Page 70 of Forgotten Desires

“Yes, let’s go see the chickens,” Brynn says with obvious excitement. She turns to me. “You too, it’s an all-hands-on-deck farm here.”

I look down at my suit. “I’m not dressed for farming.”

“Well, I helped pack your bag this morning, so go get changed and we’ll wait for you.”

“Yeah, Daddy! Get dressed.”

My brother talked to me about when he met his wife. How there was this one moment where he saw his future with her, and it all clicked. I thought he was a fucking idiot because all I ever saw with Jacqueline was prison, but I’m standing here, looking at Brynlee holding Layla’s hand, and my chest is tight.

I can see that future, where they wake up, work at Second Chances during the day, and bake cookies. I can see me working in the living room, with photos of us around and the two of them coming in to stop me to pay attention to them.

I watch years go by, Layla growing up, and Brynlee pregnant, hand on her belly as she calls after her.

All of that flashes before my eyes and then disappears, because none of that will be my reality. Not when I know Brynn has her exit strategy.

“Crew?” Brynn’s voice is full of impatience. “The bedroom is that way.”

I blink and force a smile. “Right.”

I head into her room, opening the bag and grabbing the jeans and T-shirt. God, I can’t remember the last time I wore jeans. I change and head out where the two girls are dancing around.

“Am I interrupting?” I ask, amused.

“Nope, we are just ready to see the chickens.”

So am I.

“Let’s go, then.”

We head out to the barn a few yards from the house. There are fences around it where various animals are moving around.

Layla is between us, holding both our hands as we walk. “Do the chickens bite you?” Layla asks.

“They don’t bite, they peck if you have food in your hand, but it doesn’t hurt.”

My daughter looks up at me, her eyes bright with excitement. “They eat out of yourhand!”

“Are you going to feed them?” I ask.

She nods enthusiastically. “I love chickens!”

I don’t know that this girl has ever seen a chicken outside of the store, but I’m not going to argue with her.

When we get around the side of the barn, Brynlee stops. Her eyes are wide, hand covering her mouth. “What is that?”

Praying there’s not a heap of dead chickens, I look to see what has her looking horrified and move Layla behind me. “What’s wrong?”

She points. “That coop isn’t mine. I’m so confused.”

Feeling a bit of relief, I pull Layla back around. “It’s yours,” I tell her.

Her eyes meet mine. “What?”

“You said your coop was falling down. I called Rowan, who confirmed it wasn’t working and had this one delivered a few days ago.”

Her jaw opens and closes. “Crew, this . . . no, this is too much.”

In front of us is a very large coop, it has two extensions off each side where the chickens can be contained, which the man on the phone was very adamant were necessary. I also had a team of people come and build a garden around it, because they also said chickens like to forage and it was a good idea to have space for that.

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