Page 146 of Return Policy
“Yes, please!” I feel like Alice getting ready to solve another riddle.
Forty-five minutes, a hundred arrows, and two near-death experiences later, I finally make contact with the stupid fucking target again. “Okay, you made that look way easier than it actually is.”
He takes the bow and aims an arrow toward the target. “It took me a long time to learn, trust me.” Looking into my eyes, he releases the arrow, and it hits the bullseye dead in the center as a smug smile appears on his face.
“Show off,” I grumble before stepping closer and kissing him. We make our way out of the barn and back toward the house. “Your dad taught you, right?”
“Yeah.” A wistful smile crosses his face.
“He must’ve been an excellent teacher.”
“The best. We used to go hunting all the time. I learned how to score my first buck with a bow by the time I was twelve.” He laughs. “Dad and Gramps were so shocked I actually hit it. They just stood there with their mouths open.”
“Is that why you got the tattoo on your chest?”
“Yeah.” He smiles, rubbing over it with his fist. “Dad called me buck cause of all the time we spent hunting together… So I got that and two cardinals, for him and Gramps.”
“That’s beautiful.” I put my arms around his waist, and he holds me close, planting a kiss on top of my head. “Why’d you pick up archery?”
“Like arrows in the hand of a warrior are the children of one’s youth. Blessed is the man who fills his quiver with them,” Elijah recites, and I look at him in confusion. “It’s from the Bible. My dad always told me he was incredibly blessed to have me in his life. I wanted to be blessed too.” A soft laugh escapes him. “With arrows in my hands like a warrior.”
“I love that,” I say as we reach the house, heading to the kitchen.
“Hey, kiddos,” Jenna says from her position at the stove.
“Hi, Jenna.” Hazel rubs her head against my leg, and I lean down, scratching between her ears. “Thanks for the sunrise run, girl,” I tell her quietly.
“Morning,” Elijah says, throwing an arm around Jenna’s shoulder, kissing the top of her head. It’s strange but somewhat comforting seeing Elijah’s relationship with his mom. For the first time in a while, my chest aches with longing for my own mother.
“I made your favorite.” Jenna smiles up at him.
“Venison and eggs?” he asks with an ear to ear grin.
“Not unless you went out and shot a buck this morning…” she says pointedly. “Yourotherfavorite.” She passes Elijah and me each a plate of French toast. My mouth waters at the sight.
“Mmmm, thanks, Mom.” Elijah smiles and kisses her on the cheek.
“This looks scrumptious.”
Elijah hands me his plate, and I bring them to the kitchen table. A minute later, he comes over with two steaming cups of coffee, and the scent of hazelnut hits my nose.
“Now I understand your basic bitch drink,” I tease, and he smirks, setting down our mugs.
“It was my dad’s favorite.”
“And now I feel like shit for making fun of you.”
“It’s fine,” he assures me, walking back toward the kitchen. “I don't mind.”
He opens a cabinet, and my eyes widen, seeing it filled top to bottom with jars of honey.
“Someone rob Winnie the Pooh?” I ask.
“My sister had a beekeeping phase,” Elijah replies, joining me at the table. “We haven’t had to buy honey in years.”
“Well, I much preferred that to her BMX racing phase,” Jenna says, and she and Elijah share a laugh.
Grandma Mia enters the room, eyeing our food. “You shouldn’t feed a college athlete all that garbage,” she chastises Jenna, grabbing a plate and piling it high with French toast before taking a seat next to me.
