My fingers tightened around the hive tray as a couple of bees slid out and over my gloved hand. I just kept breathing, reminding myself I was safe. It had given me an exercise of sorts. A way to practice calming my mind when the fear hit.
That happened sometimes. A memory of the men in my apartment. The feel of the boot cracking my ribs. My lip splitting. The pain. The terror that they’d get to Luca.
Keep breathing.
I lifted the first tray and laid it on the cart. The bees on my fingers lifted, taking flight and heading back into the hive. I admired their bravery. Their intelligence. They knew how to get themselves out of bad situations and find someplace safe. We were similar that way.
“They’re pretty,” Luca said from behind me. “And I like their sounds. It’s like one of those big concerts. You know, with all the instruments?”
“A symphony?” I asked.
Luca nodded as I pulled out another tray. “Buzzing together and making music.”
I liked thinking of it that way. And they were working together to create. Honey, a home, safety.
“Do you think Coach Reaper will be at dinner tonight?” Luca asked, moving on from the bees.
My grip on the third tray tightened. “Maybe. I’m not sure.” But I couldn’t help hoping he wouldn’t be, even though I knew Luca would be disappointed. His hero worship had reached level eleven on a chart of ten, especially afterThe Reaperhad been the one to give Luca his nickname.
I understood the urge. I’d caught sight of Cope on the ice this week. It was breathtaking how he moved across the surface, acombination of beauty and power all wrapped up in one potent package. But the fact that he’d seen the cracks in my façade of strength had me twitchy, worried that he’d be the one to figure out all my secrets, my shame—things I didn’t want anyone to know.
“Ireallyhope so,” Luca went on, oblivious to my inner turmoil. “I’ve been practicing all the puck-control things he taught me this week, and I wanna show him.”
My lips pressed together to hide my grin. “You’ll be able to show him on Monday.”
“I know, but sooner’s better. Then he can give me more tips. You’ll tell him how much I’ve been practicing, right, Mom?”
I couldn’t keep the grin from my face as I placed the final tray on the cart. “No kid is as dedicated as you. And I will be sure Coach Colson knows that.” Last night, I’d had to pry the hockey stick from a sleeping Luca’s hands.
“Okay, good.” Luca worried his bottom lip as I replaced the lid on the hive. “You know, maybe we could put a mini ice rink up here so I couldreallypractice.”
I burst out laughing. “Luca. You don’t think having your own ice rink is a little extreme?”
He grinned at me, his missing incisor making him look extra adorable. “It’s worth asking, right?”
My kid. I might not have been the perfect mom, but I’d taught him to dream big.
Luca hoppedfrom one foot to the other as I knocked on Nora and Lolli Colson’s front door. The multi-generational duo kept the working ranch in immaculate condition. I knew they had plenty of ranch-hand help, but they guided that ship.
Even though I’d been here countless times, I couldn’t help but look around in awe. The property itself was absolutely majestic,looking out at both the Monarch Mountains and Castle Rock. It was the kind of view I longed for but knew I’d have to sell a hell of a lot more cupcakes to get.
Still, I’d keep holding on to that dream. Just like I’d hold an image of this farmhouse in my mind, with its perfect white siding and picturesque wraparound porch, complete with rockers and swings.
I ached to give Luca a home like this. It was more than the sheer size and beauty of it, it was the knowledge that he could be safe running through the fields. It was the warmth that lay inside. The family that filled the structure.
I longed for that. For Lucaandfor me.
The door swung open, and I was met by Nora’s smiling face. Her light-brown hair was swept back in a loose bun, and she was clad in an apron. As she looked down at Luca, her green eyes twinkled. “Oh, goody, two of my favorite people.”
Luca threw his arms around her in a big hug. “Mom brought pav—pav—what is it called again?”
“Pavlova,” I said, laughter in my voice.
Nora pulled me in for a quick hug. “Ooooh, sounds fancy.”
“It’s basically meringue and whipped cream with berries. The berries are so we can make believe it’s remotely healthy.”
Nora chuckled as she released me and then motioned us in. “I like kidding myself about sugar.”
