Page 15 of Rush Turner
I looked at my family. John Wayne looked like he was in seventh heaven, checking out all the rooms. We put his bed and scratch post by the front window. Hopefully, he would like livinghere. I got him from a rescue shelter three years ago, and he and I loved each other instantly.
“There will be many firsts for us here. The man from whom we are obtaining the goats will deliver them in a few days . How about we all listen when he tells us how to care for them? Plus, we need to learn how to milk them.” I heard a lot of groans and chuckled.
Rush brought donuts; he didn’t say much, but he didn’t have to. He listened to my siblings chatter about their new rooms and nodded when Aunt Marie teased him for not bringing ice cream, too. I caught him watching me once or twice, as if he were checking to see whether I would crumble under all this change in my life.
I didn’t. This was an adventure, and I was glad we would be paying a fourth of what the mortgage payment was.
By the time the last crumb of donuts was gone, the little ones were rubbing their eyes. I herded them upstairs, kissed each forehead, and tucked them under blankets still smelling faintly of moving boxes and lavender dryer sheets.
When I came back down, the house was hushed except for the soft murmur of Aunt Marie singing in the kitchen. Rush was on the porch again, leaning against the railing, arms folded, eyes on the moonlit pasture.
He didn’t turn when I stepped outside. “They’re good kids. You’re good with them.”
I sank into the porch swing, the old chains creaking. “I keep waiting for someone to tell me I’m doing it wrong.”
“You’re not.” He glanced over, a wry smile tugging at his lips. “I’ve seen a lot of people fail at things that matter less. You’re doing right by them, Jessa. So your mom had a sense of humor and named all of them with J as the first letter in their names.”
“Yes, my Mom had a sense of humor. Everyone adored her. She was incredibly kind to everyone.
I could still feel my cheeks burning. Compliments still made me shy. Compliments fromhimnearly undid me.
I cleared my throat. “You didn’t have to check on us tonight. Or bring donuts. Or… any of it.”
“Yeah, I did.” His voice went gentle. “You think I was gonna sleep knowing you’re out here alone with a bunch of kids? Not happening.”
I bit back a laugh. “Well, you won’t have to worry long. This place is perfect. Once we get the goats and settle in—”
“—The goats?” he interrupted, eyebrows up.
“Willa says they practically sell themselves! Goat milk, goat cheese, soap… it’ll cover the bills until I figure out what comes next.”
Rush barked a quiet laugh and shook his head. “You’re serious. Goats.”
“Dead serious.”
We fell quiet again, the swing swaying lazily under me. For the first time in forever, my shoulders didn’t feel like they were holding up the sky.
I yawned, half hiding it behind my hand. Rush caught it anyway.
“Get some sleep, Songbird.” He pushed off the railing and stood over me, broad and solid and somehow so kind it made my chest ache.
“Songbird?” I repeated, smiling.
He ducked his head, sheepish. “Willa told me. About San Diego. About your singing.”
“Oh.” It felt like another life — beach bars, bright stage lights, tips in a glass jar.
Rush nodded toward the darkened hallway behind me. “Go on. I’ll lock up. If you need anything… anything… you call me. You got it? I put my phone number on the kitchen counter.
“Okay.”
“I mean it, Jessa. You’re not alone anymore.”
He sounded so certain. So fierce. It scared me how much I wanted to believe him.
I pushed up on my toes before I could lose my nerve and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. Warm stubble, faint cologne. He went still as stone.
“Thank you, Rush. Goodnight.”
