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Authors: Mira Lyn Kelly
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chest.
“Oh, that.”
He couldn’t believe Ford remembered it—
he
hadn’t even remembered it. But now it was as if he could smell the cookies Mrs. Meyers had been making that day. He could still feel that crazy tumble in his chest that, even after a year of being welcomed into Ava’s family, he’d only just begun to get used to—excitement, happiness—as he ran up to the door and let himself in like they’d told him to do.
Kicking off his shoes, he’d set them in a neat row with all the others.
“Hi, Sam,” Mrs. Meyers called from the kitchen, where she’d been wiping down the counter with a rag. He’d always liked their kitchen. He’d liked the bowl of green apples on the table and how there was a place for him to sit. He’d liked how many foods were in the fridge and pantry. And he’d liked that Mrs. Meyers had let him help plant the herb garden growing in the window over the sink.
He’d tried to clean up his own kitchen some, but even though he’d been as quiet as he could, the noise from the glass and cans was too loud and then his old man was filling up the doorway, wanting to know what Sam thought he was doing with his stuff. He hadn’t been able to breathe right seeing how his old man was looking at him, knowing what was coming next, but he’d tried to explain he was helping out. It didn’t matter, and so he hadn’t tried that again. Which was probably better anyway, because when he moved the paint can to scrape up the crust from underneath, a piece of the counter came up with it.
What a dump.
Not like the Meyerses’ house. Not like the Meyerses.
And he’d started thinking that when his mom came back for him, he’d help keep her kitchen nice. He’d plant an herb garden for her window and she and Mrs. Meyers could be friends. And maybe he’d marry Ava and then Mrs. Meyers could be his mom too. He’d liked the idea of that so much, he’d even gone to ask Ford about it.
Needless to say, the guy had been less than agreeable, and that was the end of that. Until now.
Ford cocked his head. “Now that you two crazy kids are all
in love,
figured it’s time we had that talk again, right?”
Chapter 9
Ava had no misconceptions—whatever bit of twisted history Ford was about to spring on them, it wasn’t what it sounded like.
So she started with the obvious. “This being the first I’m hearing about it, I’m guessing we’re talking the ten-and-under years?”
Ford seemed to be thinking back and then nodded. “I think maybe the second summer we were living there. This guy takes me aside one afternoon and says he’s been thinking about it and maybe he should marry Ava when they grow up.”
Maggie let out a cough of laughter, settling next to Tyler on the couch. “So you were about nine? What in the world could you have been thinking at nine?”
Sam wrapped his arm around Ava and, catching her chin with the hook of his finger, brought her eyes back to his. “I admit it. I had plans to use you to get to your mom. And I figured I’d better stake my claim early. I’m not proud.”
Ava laughed, that tender spot in her soul that had been there since her parents’ car accident eight years before aching at their mention. At the reminder of how Sam had worshiped her mother, a woman with the biggest heart of anyone she’d ever met.
She shook her head. “My mother, hmm? Honestly, I’m not surprised. Was she in on your plans? Because you know this would have tickled her pink.”
That boyish grin she loved so much split Sam’s face as he turned his eyes to the ceiling. “I may have been a little less than subtle while I was fleshing out my plan. Asking if the guy who married Ava got to move into the house too. If he would be able to come for all the holidays.”
“Subtle,” Ford chuckled, but there was such affection in the way he looked at Sam, Ava wanted to pull the whole lot of them into one big hug. Instead, though, she settled for Sam, because her arms had always been
“Oh, that.”
He couldn’t believe Ford remembered it—
he
hadn’t even remembered it. But now it was as if he could smell the cookies Mrs. Meyers had been making that day. He could still feel that crazy tumble in his chest that, even after a year of being welcomed into Ava’s family, he’d only just begun to get used to—excitement, happiness—as he ran up to the door and let himself in like they’d told him to do.
Kicking off his shoes, he’d set them in a neat row with all the others.
“Hi, Sam,” Mrs. Meyers called from the kitchen, where she’d been wiping down the counter with a rag. He’d always liked their kitchen. He’d liked the bowl of green apples on the table and how there was a place for him to sit. He’d liked how many foods were in the fridge and pantry. And he’d liked that Mrs. Meyers had let him help plant the herb garden growing in the window over the sink.
He’d tried to clean up his own kitchen some, but even though he’d been as quiet as he could, the noise from the glass and cans was too loud and then his old man was filling up the doorway, wanting to know what Sam thought he was doing with his stuff. He hadn’t been able to breathe right seeing how his old man was looking at him, knowing what was coming next, but he’d tried to explain he was helping out. It didn’t matter, and so he hadn’t tried that again. Which was probably better anyway, because when he moved the paint can to scrape up the crust from underneath, a piece of the counter came up with it.
What a dump.
Not like the Meyerses’ house. Not like the Meyerses.
And he’d started thinking that when his mom came back for him, he’d help keep her kitchen nice. He’d plant an herb garden for her window and she and Mrs. Meyers could be friends. And maybe he’d marry Ava and then Mrs. Meyers could be his mom too. He’d liked the idea of that so much, he’d even gone to ask Ford about it.
Needless to say, the guy had been less than agreeable, and that was the end of that. Until now.
Ford cocked his head. “Now that you two crazy kids are all
in love,
figured it’s time we had that talk again, right?”
Chapter 9
Ava had no misconceptions—whatever bit of twisted history Ford was about to spring on them, it wasn’t what it sounded like.
So she started with the obvious. “This being the first I’m hearing about it, I’m guessing we’re talking the ten-and-under years?”
Ford seemed to be thinking back and then nodded. “I think maybe the second summer we were living there. This guy takes me aside one afternoon and says he’s been thinking about it and maybe he should marry Ava when they grow up.”
Maggie let out a cough of laughter, settling next to Tyler on the couch. “So you were about nine? What in the world could you have been thinking at nine?”
Sam wrapped his arm around Ava and, catching her chin with the hook of his finger, brought her eyes back to his. “I admit it. I had plans to use you to get to your mom. And I figured I’d better stake my claim early. I’m not proud.”
Ava laughed, that tender spot in her soul that had been there since her parents’ car accident eight years before aching at their mention. At the reminder of how Sam had worshiped her mother, a woman with the biggest heart of anyone she’d ever met.
She shook her head. “My mother, hmm? Honestly, I’m not surprised. Was she in on your plans? Because you know this would have tickled her pink.”
That boyish grin she loved so much split Sam’s face as he turned his eyes to the ceiling. “I may have been a little less than subtle while I was fleshing out my plan. Asking if the guy who married Ava got to move into the house too. If he would be able to come for all the holidays.”
“Subtle,” Ford chuckled, but there was such affection in the way he looked at Sam, Ava wanted to pull the whole lot of them into one big hug. Instead, though, she settled for Sam, because her arms had always been
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