Page 88 of Finders Keepers

She appears in the doorway, flour already dusting her hands. “Good girl. Go get some fresh air. Sophie and I have some baking to do.”

I peek into the kitchen where Sophie stands on a step stool, a streak of flour across her cheek. “Be good for Ms. Lucy, okay sweetie?

“Okay!” She climbs off her step stool and runs into my arms, wrapping me in a flour-covered hug. “I’ll save some cookies for you, mama.”

“That would be amazing, Soph.” I smile, holding her tight despite the powdery mess.

Back at the tiny house, I change into fresh clothes. A soft blue t-shirt and jeans and run a brush through my hair. The face in the mirror looks tired, but there’s something else there too. Something stronger.

Gavin’s truck pulls up right as I step outside. He hops out to open the passenger door, and the simple gesture makes me smile.

“Hey.” His voice is soft, concerned. “Where to?”

I climb in, breathing in the leather smell of his truck. “Anywhere.”

He nods, understanding in his eyes. “I know just the place.”

We drive in comfortable silence, the radio playing quietly in the background. He doesn’t push me to talk, though I know he must be curious. Instead, he just lets me be, occasionally reaching over to squeeze my hand.

The tension in my shoulders starts to ease as we leave town behind, trading old buildings for open fields and scattered oak trees. After about ten minutes, he turns onto a dirt road I wouldn’t have noticed if he hadn’t pointed it out.

“Where are we going?” I ask, curiosity finally breaking through my fog.

“You’ll see.” He grins.

The road ends at what looks like an old ranch gate. He parks and comes around to my side. “Short walk from here. Trust me?”

He holds out his hand, steady and sure.

Do I trust him? Every instinct in me screams to stay guarded. To protect myself, protect Sophie. I’ve spent so long building walls that letting someone in feels dangerous. But from him all I see is quiet patience.

I take his offered hand.

“Yes.”

He leads me through the gate and up a gentle slope. As we crest the hill, my breath catches. Below us stretches a hidden valley, filled with wildflowers in every color imaginable. Blues, purples, yellows, and reds paint the ground like an impressionist masterpiece.

“Gavin…” I whisper. “This is beautiful.”

“Found it while tracking a lost cow last spring.” He tugs me toward a flat rock overlooking the space. “Thought you might like it.”

We sit side by side, our shoulders touching. A warm breeze carries the sweet scent of flowers, and somewhere nearby birds call.

“Want to talk about it?” he asks quietly.

I draw my knees up to my chest and place my arms around them. “Not really. Not yet. Is that okay?”

“More than okay.” He wraps an arm around my shoulders, and I feel myself lean into him, letting out a shaky breath.

For a long while, we just sit there, watching clouds drift across the sky, the flowers move in the breeze. The knot in my stomach slowly unravels. Here, surrounded by wildflowers and held by someone who expects nothing from me, I can finally breathe.

“Thank you,” I murmur eventually.

He presses a kiss to my temple. “Anytime.”

“Ms. Lucy’s making pot roast tonight,” I say, turning my head to him. “Would you like to join us?”

His face lights up. “Her famous pot roast? Wouldn’t miss it.”

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