Just Maybe (Home In You Book 3)

by Crystal Walton

  She set the bowl down and nodded to the glazed topping inside it. “Can’t have peaches unless they’re drizzled in sugar.”

  “Lost that battle, huh?”

  “Always do.”

  “Yet you never give up.” He returned his glass to the table. “Real trooper, right there.”

  A laugh snuck through her lips.

  Man, that smile. He ran his tongue against the inside of his cheek as if that’d keep him from reciprocating. He should know better. He obviously couldn’t stay upset with her if he tried.

  “It’s kind of hard to be a trooper when I’m acting like an angsty teenager.” Her smile waned. “I’m really sorry, Cooper. Truth is, Livy showing up sort of brought out some insecurities I thought I’d laid to rest a long time ago.”

  He stared at her. “Livy?”

  She pitched a brow at him. “And you say I’m blind.”

  That’s what all this was about? Amusement dismantled any attempt to keep a straight face. He edged in. “You weren’t jealous, were you?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

  “Oh, I think it’s too late for that.” Giving his smile free reign, he inched a step closer.

  “Yeah, well, don’t hold your breath. Apparently, I’m pretty good at dishing out insults too.” Though pained, her smile held a smidge of humor in it. “A girl of many talents. What can I say.”

  “Mm.” He looked her up and down. “Too bad wrestling isn’t one of those talents.” He swooped her over his shoulder before she could respond.

  Caught between laughing and yelling, Quinn fought to escape. He secured her by the legs before he ended up with an unpleasant knee jab and started for the sprinkler.

  “If you don’t want to die, you better put me down.”

  “You’re the one who said you needed to cool off, right?”

  She slapped his back. “Don’t you dare.”

  The sight of Mr. Thompson coming out of the barn jerked him to a stop. Quinn slid down the front of him, but Cooper grabbed her waist before she fell to the grass. Just centimeters away, she lifted her fiercely gorgeous eyes at him. And for an isolated second, he forgot where he was. Along with who was watching.

  The minute it reregistered, he flung his hands free from Quinn’s waist like she had the plague. Way to make it worse, Coop.

  Each step bringing her father toward them seemed to echo across the open yard.

  Or maybe that was just his pulse. Cooper leveled his shoulders and nodded. “Mr. Thompson. Good to see you.”

  Without releasing Cooper from an intense gaze, he wiped his hands on a faded rag.

  Nothing like being transported back to high school on prom night.

  Quinn slipped through the invisible tension line between them and wrapped her arms around her dad’s neck. “Are you sure you should be back in your workshop so soon after the hospital?”

  “Hospital?” He waved it off. “I haven’t been in a hospital for over fifteen years.”

  Quinn stepped back slowly. “No, Daddy. You fell off the back steps and had to spend the night at Community Memorial. Don’t you remember?” She searched his eyes. If she was looking for humor, she would’ve been disappointed.

  A pained sense of confusion streaked his face as though he were seeing the effects of his illness reflected in his daughter’s eyes. “Is that so?” He toyed with his rag. “Well, I’m just fine now, aren’t I? But I could use a hand on something before dinner.” He redirected his attention to Cooper. “Son?”

  He shot an uncertain glance at Quinn, who mouthed, “Trooper.”

  No getting out of it now.

  With a little more trepidation than he wanted anyone to sense, he followed Mr. Thompson over to the barn. Chase and Livy passed them on their way out.

  Cooper made a face at him. “Get lost?”

  “Nope.” Chase flaunted a grin right back.

  Livy ignored them both. “You have a fantastic shop, Mr. Thompson.”

  “Thank you . . .”

  “Livy,” she reminded him.

  Chase landed a hand to the top of his shoulder. “Dinner should be about ready, Pops.”

  “We’ll be along in a minute.” He shuffled toward the back of the barn.

  Cooper sent off one last silent flare for intervention, which Chase obviously found as amusing as Quinn had.

  Chase patted him on the back. “Whatever he gives you, just keep sanding it,” he whispered.

  “Wait, what?” What the heck did that mean?

  Instead of an answer, a laugh trailed them as they rounded the barn door and disappeared into the yard.

  So much for being bros. Cooper turned to find Mr. Thompson had already reached the far end of an otherwise mostly empty barn. He hustled to meet up with him.

  At a workbench, her dad turned the rod handle on a mechanical vise ’round and ’round.

  Cooper surveyed the spread of tools—some old and well scuffed, others still carrying the shine of little use. “This is a great setup you have here, sir.”

  The slow squeak of the vise’s jaw opening served as the only response.

  Did Mr. Thompson forget he was there? Based on what he’d seen so far, his coherence seemed to come and go.

  Cooper ran a finger along the beveled edges of a carved rail slat that looked halfway finished. Maybe he should let himself out, give her dad some time alone doing what he loved. This was obviously a special place for him.

  He turned, ready to bail. But instead of a clear escape route, a scrap of sandpaper waved in his path.

  Mr. Thompson kept his hand out, waiting.

  Cooper looked from the paper to the rail he’d been admiring. Just keep sanding, right. He took the paper from him and started in on the slat.

  “You know what I like about wood?” Mr. Thompson’s low, calm voice reverberated throughout the quiet barn.

  Cooper faced him. “What’s that, sir?”

  He picked up a small block of wood, maple from the looks of it, and gave it a rap with his knuckle. “It’s sturdy, durable.” He set it in the vise and began rotating the handle again until the jaws clamped securely around it. “But just ’cause it can handle pressure doesn’t mean it can’t break.” The squeaky rod strained as Mr. Thompson circled it yet another time.

  Good thing he had a block of wood in that jaw instead of Cooper’s hand. Though, something gave him the impression he wouldn’t have minded demonstrating on the latter.

  When he looked up, Mr. Thompson stood right in front of him. Cooper tried not to flinch as he helped him sand the rail along the grains of wood in slow, graceful movements.

  “Even with the right tools, nurturing wood takes care and patience. You have to respect its natural beauty while drawing out its potential to build something that’ll last a lifetime.”

  Mr. Thompson returned to his workbench and loosened the vise. “But you have to be careful.” He removed the block, gave it to Cooper, and tapped a weathered palm over his hand. “Without boundaries, that pressure can leave marks forever.”

  Cooper stroked a fingertip over the grooves burrowed into the grains by the vise’s clamp. When he met Mr. Thompson’s gray eyes, there was no second-guessing his lucidity. Same way there was no questioning what they were really talking about here.

  Loraine obviously wasn’t the only one who saw things. Even someone only half cognizant could see Cooper would eventually hurt Quinn in the end.

  Indignation flared until a slow burn eroded behind the truth left in its place. Resenting assumptions didn’t make them wrong.

  Before he could summon a response, a shriek from outside shuddered into the barn. Cooper dropped the wood without thinking. Quinn.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Boundary

  Cooper didn’t hesitate. He sprinted. Over by the sprinkler, Quinn had Brayden swaddled in her arms. The look on her face lodged his heart in his throat.

  Ginny stood beside them, her skin a pale version of her new tan. “I only look
ed away for a second,” she eked out when he approached.

  A wide scratch on Brayden’s forehead began to swell. Cooper ran a hand over his son’s hair, but Brayden pushed against Quinn’s chest, not wanting to be comforted by either of them. With his face as red as the bricks he’d obviously scraped it on, he wailed as if he’d fallen onto a bed of nails instead.

  “Shh. It’s okay, baby.” Quinn bobbed him in her arms while walking back and forth, but inconsolable sobs kept him squirming restlessly to break free. “Brayden, calm down. We’re both here. Everything’s all right.”

  The harder she tried to comfort him, the louder he cried.

  Not knowing what else to do, Cooper set a hand on Ginny’s shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze. The last thing she needed was to feel guilty over an accident.

  “Give him here.” Loraine came charging up to the scene with outstretched arms.

  “He doesn’t want anyone.”

  As if Loraine would listen. She scooped him up, turned him sideways till he was cozied against her middle, and rocked him from side to side. “That’s it, dear. Just relax now. Aunt Loraine’s got you.”

  His sobs gradually tapered to a slow fizzle.

  The rest of Quinn’s family had already flocked over to see what was going on while Loraine sent Ginny inside for a wet washcloth.

  When Ginny returned, Loraine smoothed back Brayden’s hair and set the cloth to the bump on his head. “There we go, sweetie. You’re all right.”

  Cooper looked from Quinn, who was cradling her empty arms, back to Loraine. “Thank you. That was kind of amazing. How’d you know what to do?”

  She fluttered a hand at him. “Don’t you worry yourself about that, dear. Some things only a mama knows how to do.”

  The second the words left her mouth, she looked like she would’ve given her right arm to take them back. Her eyes filled with regret as she reached for Quinn. “Oh, honey, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean . . .”

  Cooper’s gaze bounced from person to person in their cramped semi-circle, all bearing expressions of visible discomfort. Clearly, he was missing something. “Didn’t mean what?”

  “Nothing.” Quinn’s arms came undone, and her stoic expression shattered down her face like broken glass. “Excuse me.” She pushed through the line of family members and jogged to the back door.

  Cooper started after her. “Quinn?”

  Mrs. Thompson stopped him by the arm. “Let it be.”

  “I’m sorry. I can’t.” He might not know what was going on, but one thing he was sure of. The hurt in Quinn’s eyes drove his feet past any reason to stay behind.

  In the house, he hurried down the hall, not slowing until he reached her old bedroom. Cautious yet resolute strides led him around the open doorway.

  Quinn stood in the corner by a bedpost with her back facing him.

  The oak floorboards creaked under his footsteps. Startling, she wiped her cheeks. He’d been in such a hurry to get to her, he hadn’t thought of what to say.

  After a long moment, she traced her fingers down a blue and silver textured tie hanging from the top of the post. “It’s sharp, isn’t it?” she said randomly. “A present from my dad on my sixteenth birthday.”

  Despite the gravity of the moment, Cooper cracked a grin. “It’d look good on you.”

  A soft laugh sent a glance over her shoulder. “It’s not for me, smart aleck.”

  “But you just said . . .”

  “It was for my future husband—the guy Dad’s been praying for since before I was born.” She straightened the loose knot. “It was supposed to be a reminder for me to pray for him too. For our family, the life we’d build together.” The tie slid through her hands. “Turns out Dad and I both lost a lot of time on our knees for nothing.”

  “Quinn—”

  “We should go.” She turned, resolution once again coloring over the hidden aches trapped in her eyes. She passed him in the doorway. As much as he wanted to stop her, he sensed he shouldn’t.

  By the time he reached the kitchen, Quinn had already gotten in the car. Chase came through the back door with Brayden in his arms. “You guys go on. I’ll take Livy home.”

  “Thanks.” Cooper took Brayden and clasped Chase’s hand. “Tell your folks I’m sorry for leaving so abruptly.”

  “Don’t worry about it, man. They understand.”

  Good thing someone did.

  Cooper half hoped he’d figured it out on the way home. But when Quinn stared out the passenger window the entire ride, the chance of talking faded with the sunlight.

  Maybe her mom was right about letting it be for now. Considering Quinn went straight to her room when they got home, she obviously agreed.

  Cooper took his time getting Brayden down by extending their bedtime reading, maybe more for himself than for Brayden. That fall would leave a mark on his head for a few days, but like most kids, his resilience had already relegated the memory to a thing of the past. Too bad adults couldn’t do the same with their own pain.

  He kissed Brayden good night, eased the door closed, and started down the hall to the opposite end. But when he noticed the light coming from Quinn’s room, he couldn’t bring himself to pass. He tapped a knuckle to the unclosed door and cracked it open far enough to see if she was okay.

  Still in her sundress, Quinn sat on the bed with a pillow buried in her lap.

  He dropped his hat on the dresser and sat beside her, not sure what to say or if she wanted him to say anything at all. His mind wandered back to the way Loraine’s comment had driven her to the tie in her room and the disappointment in what she thought she’d missed out on.

  The veins in Cooper’s hands tightened. “If this is about Brian—”

  “It’s about me, and don’t worry, I feel nothing. Because a woman who isn’t whole couldn’t possibly feel anything, right?”

  The dejection in her voice splintered through his chest. “Not whole? What are you talking about?”

  She coiled a stray thread from the hem of her pillowcase around her finger—one direction, then the other—until she finally looked up. The entire lake couldn’t hold the amount of grief in her eyes. “I can’t have kids, Cooper.”

  Her words almost knocked the wind from him. “I don’t understand.”

  “Neither do I.” She let the thread unfurl, but the resonance of bitterness coiled even tighter. “I started having these symptoms a few months after Brian and I got engaged. I knew something was wrong, but I wouldn’t let myself think the worst, even after I got the results.”

  She compressed the pillow to her stomach as though trying to cauterize a fresh wound. “I begged my doctor to give me more options, prayed for another solution. But there was only one.”

  The yearning to comfort her overrode the urge to brace himself for whatever she was about to say. He stretched a hand over hers and smoothed his thumb across her skin.

  “I had a hysterectomy two months later.” She withdrew and caged in her shame behind her long lashes. “I didn’t want to. I swear, I searched for an alternative, but I . . .” Her voice broke, and so did his heart.

  Cooper took her hand again. When she didn’t retreat this time, he brought it to his lap and cradled it in both of his. “Quinn.”

  “I know I act like I don’t want this life, but you’re right. I do.” Sorrow bled down her cheeks. “Growing up, it’s all I ever wanted: a family home like my parents have, a heritage my children could build on. I can’t offer anyone that now.”

  “That’s not true.”

  A broken smile looked up at him. “You haven’t lived here long, Cooper. Family is everything. If you can’t have kids, you’re . . .”

  The look on his face must’ve told her not to finish that insane thought. This wasn’t the Stone Age.

  Their conversation about Loraine and her husband leaving her soared to mind, chased by the image of Brian standing beside his pregnant wife.

  Was that why they broke up? So he could go find someone who could
bear his children? Seriously, what century were they in? The tendons in Cooper’s arms pulsed. What a world-class jerk. If the loser were half a real man, he’d see how amazing Quinn was with kids and what a great mom she’d make if given the chance. There were other options.

  His heart raced a dangerous mix of emotions.

  She wiped her cheek. “It’s one of those things that never crosses your mind growing up.”

  The soft, vulnerable tenor in her voice shut out everything else around them. “You always think you’ll have a choice. That you can start a family whenever you want.”

  A slow blink lifted her eyes toward his. “No one prepares you how to feel when you find out you failed at being a woman.”

  Sitting with her and hearing the damage in her heart poured out so vulnerably, Cooper could hardly breathe for how much he wanted to take her hurt away and make her see she was more of a woman than any girl he’d ever met.

  Heart pounding, he stood and pulled her to her feet.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Getting you off the bed.”

  The skin between her eyes wrinkled. “I see that. Why?”

  “Because.” His fingertips glided over her cheek, his eyes deep and earnest. “If I kiss you on that bed, I won’t be able to leave.”

  Her breath quickened under his touch. He leaned in, never releasing her gaze, until his lips brushed hers. He’d imagined kissing her more times than he should admit. But the moment her mouth softened against his, an all-consuming desire to love her overtook every part of him.

  Breath, time—lost. Heartbeats replaced seconds. His free hand slid around her waistline to her back and brought her tighter.

  Secured against him, Quinn stretched her hand up his chest and into the hair behind his ear. The more she gave herself to him, the deeper he lost himself in all she was, all he wanted to share with her. Until fragmented conversations sprang to mind with clear reminders this was a mistake.

  “She’s more fragile than she lets on.”

  “Without boundaries, that pressure can leave marks forever.”

  He’d wanted to help her heal, but here he was, proving her parents right that he’d hurt her.