Page 54 of Awaiting the Storm
I retreat to the back porch, where it’s quiet, save for the wind stirring the cottonwoods and the low buzz of bees hovering over the flowers in Grandpa’s garden. I stare down at my sister’s phone.
I don’t have a phone—well, I do. Charli gave me one for Christmas the year before last. It’s somewhere in my bedroom. I just hate carrying it. The ringing and vibrating bother Luna, and I spend ninety percent of my day on her back. I never remember to charge the dang thing anyway.
I tap the screen and pull up the Contacts list. My finger hovers over Caison’s name.
Two weeks. Not a word.
I haven’t had time to think about what to say. Not with everything going on. I sat by Daddy’s side the entire four days he was in the hospital, and once we got him home and settled, there was so much work to catch up on. And to be honest, I’ve been avoiding him.
Avoiding what happened between us. Avoiding the ache that I feel every time I think about that night at his cabin before his phone rang. Avoiding the way I can still feel his lips on my neck, his breath in my ear, his voice asking me if I was sure.
I was …
That night.
I take a deep breath and press the Call button.
He answers on the second ring.
“Hi, Charli.” The sound of his deep voice sends a shiver up my spine.
“Hey,” I say, leaning my shoulder against the porch beam. “It’s me.”
“Matty?”
“Yeah. You got a minute?” I ask.
“For you? Always,” he says softly.
I swallow, my throat suddenly dry. “I wanted to let you know we’ve decided to move forward with the offer. The land sale. If Ironhorse is still interested.”
There’s a beat of silence, like he wasn’t expecting it.
“Of course we are,” he says, his voice all business now.
“Okay. What’re the next steps?”
“I’ll have our real estate attorney write up a contract. You can have your own attorney review it, and once everything is confirmed, we’ll set the closing date.”
“And then?”
“The deed for the acreage will be signed over, the transfer of ownership to Ironhorse will be completed, and the funds for the sale will be deposited to Wildhaven Storm’s account.”
“Okay. Sounds good.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure,” I say. “We all went over it—Daddy, Grandpa Earl, and I. Everyone’s on board.”
The line goes silent for a beat.
“All right. I’ll get the ball rolling on the paperwork. Holland’ll be happy.”
I nod even though he can’t see me.
“Matty …” His voice drops, tentative. “Can I come see you?”
I hesitate.
