Page 30 of Fern's Date with Destiny
“I don’t need protecting,” she said.
Chance’s smile curved lopsided.“Aye.Tell him that when you see him again.”
Fern pushed to her feet and squared her shoulders.Her reflection in the glass beside the hallway looked the same as always.Black curls, warm eyes, arms hanging loose against her sides, no hiding or apology in her stance.
Same person she was a few hours ago.Except she was getting damn tired of waiting for the universe to get its shit together.
She bent to hug Chance, squeezing until he grunted.
“Thank you for telling me,” she whispered into his flannel shirt.
“Thanks for making my brother smile more than I’ve ever seen,” he murmured back.“At least until he lost his fecking head.”
She stepped away, grabbed her bag from under the desk, and made it halfway to the stairs before Chance’s voice floated after her.
“You gonna chase him?”
Fern paused, hand on the railing, a spark of determination flickering to life in the hollow Cody’s absence left behind.But he’d chosen this, so she’d honour that.At least for now.
“No,” she called back.“But when he comes home, he’d better be ready.”
9
The house was half-asleep in that lazy holiday stretch between Christmas and the New Year.Snow muffled the world beyond the windows; somewhere deep inside, the woodstove cracked and sighed.
Fern found her dad exactly where she knew he’d be.Sprawled on the big old sofa, sock feet crossed on the coffee table, half snoozing, half reading a battered Louis L’Amour novel.
She hovered in the doorway, arms crossed tight over her chest.
She’d had time to think more about Cody.And Cody’s choices.To ponder the whys of his leaving and to really consider if she was ready and willing to sign up for more.
Answers hovered, but before locking them down, she needed to get some affirmation from the best man she knew.
Malachi didn’t look up right away.He turned a page with deliberate calm then slid a glance over the top of his glasses.“Something on your mind, baby girl?”
She crossed the room before she could talk herself out of it, dropped onto the rug at his feet, and leaned her shoulder against his knee.
She felt more than heard him close the book.
“I think,” Fern murmured, staring into the fire’s orange glow, “I’ve gotten involved with a man who doesn’t know how to share what he’s feeling.And he thinks not talking is the kindest thing he can do for me.”
Silence.Only the crackle of burning logs and the old grandfather clock ticking steady in the hall.
Her dad’s big hand settled on her crown, fingers petting her curls the same way he had when she was six and scraped her knee.As when she was fourteen and pissed off at rude comments about her arm.
Or when she was seventeen and swore she’d never need anyone in her life to feel complete.
“You cry over him every day?”Malachi asked finally.
Fern sniffed.“Not every day.I cried the first few mornings.But then I got mad, and now I just want to find him so I can shake him hard enough he sees sense.”
A low chuckle rumbled through her father’s chest.He squeezed the back of her neck, gentle but firm.“Most relationships are worth a few tears.If he’s the one who makes your blood heat because you know he’s smart enough to eventually admit exactly how foolish he’s been”—his hand shifted, tipping her chin until he could see her eyes—“then he’s worth fighting for.No halfway.”
She swallowed around the knot in her throat.It made sense.It was the conclusion she’d come to.
Yet inside, fear took one more turn at winning.“What if I fight and he won’t let me in?”
“Then at least you know you stood your ground.”Malachi’s thumb traced the line of her cheek, brushing away the dampness she hadn’t noticed.“You were born stubborn, Fernie.You were born to run toward hard things, not away from them.Don’t let his fear decide your story.”
