Because Garrett Calhoun didn’t make empty promises.
“There’s someone you need to meet.”
Cal turned off the ignition and pushed open his door.
I studied the street of houses. They were nice. Neat. Normal. Kids rode their bikes in the distance. A few people were gathered on front stoops, animatedly chatting.
It was hard to process. This was a row of inanimate objects, yet they felt alive.
When I went to the house I’d grown up in, I always felt cold and hollow.
Here, it was the opposite.
If Mom would have lived, would our house have been different? I had to think it would’ve been better . . . unless Father eventually killed her spirit the way he did everything else.
Cal opened my car door and offered me a hand. Electricity zapped when our skin touched. It always had, but I’d let my anger tamp down the sensation before. Now that I’d let go of some of it, his touch was more potent.
Or was it because we were married?
Meaningless vows wouldn’t change things, would they?
No, but he’d taken me into his protection the minute he said “I do.” And I’d felt the strength of that from that moment too.
Once I was out of the truck, Cal didn’t let go of my hand as we moved up the front walk. My heart pounded. He didn’t have to tell me where we were.
At least when I’d met his father, there had been the element of surprise. I hadn’t had time to worry if he’d like me or if I’d make a good impression.
As short as the walk was from the car to the front door, it was more than enough time for me to second-guess everything.
Cal’s mother was the most important person in his life. What if she hated me? What if she loved me? What if I said the wrong thing or insulted her or brought up something I shouldn’t?
“She’s gonna love you,” he said as if reading my thoughts. “It’s better if we don’t tell her we’re married yet. I don’t want to end up buried in the backyard.”
I snickered. A grown man afraid of his mother. It spoke volumes about him. Good things. Not the ugly ones.
“Are you sure it wouldn’t be me?”
“Nah. She always wanted a girl. She’d keep you around.” He rang the bell once before turning the knob on the front door. “Ma, you in the kitchen?”
My stomach pitched as we stepped inside.
There was the scent of something sweet—maybe apple pie—in the air. And the walls were littered with pictures of their family. School portraits. Vacations. Studio images of their entire family throughout the years.
Home.
This was what a home was supposed to be.
“Is this you?” I pointed at a kid who looked like he was in elementary school . . . and his two front teeth were missing.
Cal’s cheeks turned pink. “I-uh-I thought I was Batman.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “My brothers dared me to jump off the roof if I was. Mike promised he’d catch me. He missed.” He grinned and pointed to his teeth. “They were ready to come out anyway. And they grew back.”
How had his mother put up with so much mischief?
“That’s one of my favorite pictures.”
I jumped at the sound of the woman’s voice.
She pinched Cal’s cheek. “I wanted to kill all of them at the time. Imagine seeing your baby boy flying by the kitchen window.”
“All in one piece, Ma.” Cal pulled her in for a hug.
“I don’t know how.” She swatted him before hugging him back. When she released him, her gaze wandered to me. “Have you finally brought home a nice girl for me to meet?”
The blush on Cal’s cheeks deepened. He linked his fingers with mine once more. His mother discreetly lifted a brow.
“Yeah. This is Beau.”
She stared at me with an unreadable expression. I couldn’t breathe. There was none of the warmth toward me that she had for her son. Her eyes felt like an X-ray machine examining every facet of my being.
“It’s lovely to meet you, Mrs. Calhoun,” I said shakily. If we’d have had this introduction back in my twenties, I would’ve been less nervous.
Maybe Cal hadn’t been joking about her burying him in the backyard.
I looked down at my clothes. Maybe I was going to kill him. I hadn’t showered in almost a day and a half. And I was wearing worn jeans and a sweater. He should’ve warned me so I could’ve at least had on something proper. Or at least spritzed some perfume.
“I never thought this day would come.” She yanked me away from Cal and threw her arms around me.
I stood there stiffly for a moment, but her warmth was impossible to ignore. I’d never had a hug like this. A motherly one.
Slowly, I lifted my arms and circled them around her back. I closed my eyes and let Cal’s mom hold me. Even the scent of her was one of home. She wasn’t cloaked in expensive perfume or clothing. She was cloaked in love. She was a mom who loved fiercely. My eyes stung as I clung to this woman I’d never met. But I felt her acceptance. Felt the love she had for her children.
Felt what I’d been missing all my life.
A mom.
I swallowed around the knot in my throat.
“I hope you’re hungry,” she said, taking my hand. She led me to the kitchen. “You’re both too thin.”
I glanced back at Cal, who shrugged. His posture was indifferent, but something flickered in his eyes.
“Sit. Sit.” She patted a chair and gave me a little shove.
Cal pulled out the seat next to me. It creaked when he sat, but he dwarfed the thing. There were scratches and a small burn mark on the table. Was that glitter?
And there were placemats. Ones for the season that looked homemade . . . like they’d seen a thousand meals at this table.
The Calhouns probably needed the table for twenty that my father had, but this one . . . I’d have given anything to have dinner at this table every night.
“She’s a little overwhelming,” Cal whispered.
I shook my head. “Not at all.”
She carried a platter that had enough food for an army.
Cal pushed from his seat. “Let me get that.” He took it from her hands and set it on the table. Then he moved to the cabinets and pulled out three plates and glasses.
I couldn’t stop watching as he grabbed paper napkins from a holder on the counter and utensils from a drawer.
It wasn’t that Lincoln or Teague wouldn’t set the table, but in the house we’d grown up in, that was a menial task for hired help. At least that was Father’s view.
Was this how happy families functioned? Obviously all wasn’t perfect, but there was some sort of magic in this house. Everything about it screamed close family and love.
I wanted it so bad I could taste it.
“Get her more ice than that, Cal.” She untied her apron and hooked it on the peg just inside the opening that separated the kitchen from the living room. She poured tea in my glass without asking and then piled my plate with more food than I’d eaten in the past week.
Once everyone was served, she reached for my hand and Cal’s, then nodded at him. They bowed their heads and he said a quick grace. I’d only been to church for weddings or when Father had deemed it advantageous, but I’d never eaten a meal that had been blessed.