Page 19 of Rush Turner
Rush and I found them—five of them—standing in the open pantry, helping themselves to a loaf of bread and a bag of sugar they’d knocked off the shelf.
Rush leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, trying so hard not to laugh. “Well, Jessa. You said you can take care of them, and look you are making sure they have enough food.”
I threw a dish towel at him. He caught it and grabbed my wrist, pulling me close.
“Hey,” he murmured. “You’re doing fine. It’s gonna be okay.”
I buried my face in his chest for half a second, breathing him in. Then a goat tugged at the hem of my shirt, and I burst out laughing.
Outside, Aunt Marie shouted, “If they get in my garden again, I’m making goat stew for dinner! I just finished planting this morning.”
Rush winked at me. “Better get them out before that happens. We’ll have to build a cage for the garden.
Jessa
By sunset, the goats were (mostly) penned up, the kids had declared themselvesnevergetting goats again—until tomorrow, when they’d forget—and Aunt Marie finally sat down with a glass of sweet tea, threatening to leave for Florida if another goat so much as looked at her garden fence.
Rush and I collapsed side by side on the porch steps, our jeans muddy, our shirts covered in goat hair, and our laughter echoing across the yard every time we replayed the day’s disasters.
One by one, the kids drifted off to bed. Aunt Marie shuffled inside last, muttering about needing a vacation. That left just Rush and me, alone under the porch light while the sky turned deep purple and the first fireflies blinked to life in the yard.
Rush leaned back on his elbows, looking so relaxed and content that it made my heart ache in a good way. He tilted his head, catching me staring.
“What?” he asked, voice soft, teasing.
I shrugged, grinning despite how tired I was. “I was just thinking… you didn’t have to stay all day, you know. You could’ve run for the hills when Tornado climbed onto your truck hood. You don’t look the type to chase goats around.
He chuckled low in his chest. “I could’ve run. But then, who would’ve rescued you from the pantry bandits?”
I nudged his shoulder with mine. “I had it under control.”
“Oh yeah? Is that why you were yelling my name like I was animal control?”
I rolled my eyes, but he caught my chin gently, turning my face toward him. The humor slipped away for a moment, replaced by something softer, heavier.
“You’re amazing, Jessa. You know that?” he murmured.
My breath caught. “I’m a mess, Rush.”
He leaned in, so close I could taste the sweetness of Aunt Marie’s tea on his lips. “Yeah. But you’re my favorite kind of mess.”
Before I could find a smart reply, he kissed me. Slow. Warm. Sweet, like the whole day distilled into one perfect moment on these creaky porch steps.
A sudden bleat made us both jump. Tornado—smug as ever—stood at the bottom of the steps, staring up at us with a piece of Marie’s garden hat in his mouth.
Rush groaned. “That goat is the devil.”
I laughed against his shoulder. “He’s family now. Better get used to it.”
He kissed my forehead and wrapped his arm around me, pulling me close as we watched Tornado trot off to cause more trouble. Until I caught up with him and put him with the others.
For the first time in a long time, I didn’t feel alone. And I knew, no matter what tomorrow brought—goats, chaos, or stolen biscuits—I wouldn’t be facing it by myself. I had the love of this family that’s all I needed.
15
Rush
Ineeded a break from goat rodeos and chaos, so I spent most of the next day at the garage with the guys.
