Page 3 of As It Was (Strawberry Springs #1)

He rubbed his forehead, his typical response whenever I talked about anything he didn’t have an interest in. “You need to focus so we can deal with the can of worms you just opened.”

“Can of worms?”

“The meeting, Mollie. In case you’ve forgotten, you’re at work and just let Todd get away with something you probably shouldn’t have.”

I let out a long sigh, still unable to care about anything within the bland four walls.

“This isn’t you,” he said. “Or at least, not the woman you were when you got out of college. Maybe we should revisit the idea of you not working. You wanted to wait until we got married, but if you’re this distracted ...”

I resisted the urge to grimace. I didn’t know why the idea of depending solely on him chafed me, but it did. Every single time he brought it up. But that was how he justified his long nights. He spoke about me financially depending on him as an inevitability, not an option.

And I couldn’t explain why it made me so nauseous. This was what I wanted, right?

“I think ... I think I’m just stressed with the house hunting and the recession.”

“Oh.” His hands came to rest on my shoulders, and I tried to find comfort in it. “Don’t worry about that.”

I wish I found it as reassuring as he meant it to be.

“I think I might need a little more support.”

“Just wait until we get off work. I have the perfect thing.”

Oh, God . I didn’t think I had it in me to fake an orgasm tonight.

“I think I need something truly relaxing. You know, like a bath or something on my own.”

“You can do that after we finish the house viewing.”

“House hunting? That’s what we’re doing?”

“Yes. What else did you think it would be?”

I tried not to let relief show on my face. “N-nothing! But still ... Is house hunting ever stress relieving?”

“It is when I’ve found the perfect one. You’re gonna love it.”

We’d been doing this for the last six months.

I was tired of apartment life, and Trevor had given in to my desire for a home.

It had been a long journey, especially since we had very different tastes.

But this was promising. Had he finally given in to the idea of an older home with character?

Had he finally moved on from only wanting a brand-new place in the middle of a subdivision?

Hopefully, whatever plan he had would get me out of the rut I’d been in.

I needed it.

“I can’t wait to see it,” I said.

A pleased smile crossed his face, and he patted my shoulder before going to his office.

And the numbness came back.

“A kiss would have been nice,” I muttered before returning to my desk.

I ran right into Dad.

“Everything okay, Mollie-bear?”

I wish I could have felt something at his nickname for me.

“I’m fine. Or trying to be.”

“Are you sure?” he asked again. “You were off in the meeting.”

“I don’t think I’ve spent enough time outside.”

He slowly nodded. I knew Dad didn’t get it, but at least he wasn’t as direct as Trevor.

“Have Trevor take you on a hike. Or go with your friend, Wren.”

“She’s busy with her huge new project.” One that I barely knew anything about. “And Trevor was ... Well, he told me to go to a park. I don’t think he wants to help me with this.”

“Are you sure?” Dad’s brow pinched. “He’s always more than willing to help around here.”

Sure. With work. Not with me. It was like his work sucked up all of his energy, leaving nothing for anything else.

“Maybe I misheard,” I said, shrugging. “I do that sometimes. I should get back to my desk.”

“You could go on a speed walk with your mom if you wanted to.”

I cringed. Walking through her HOA-curated neighborhood was not what I needed.

“It’s just a phase,” I said, shaking my head. “It’ll pass.”

I brewed another cup of coffee before I went back to my desk. I clicked around in spreadsheets for hours before Trevor came to get me.

“Ready to go?”

I nearly jumped up. “I’m ready!”

“Someone’s excited,” Trevor said. “Are you finally over your mood?”

“Yep!” I tried to channel brightness. He looked at my desk before his forehead creased.

“Are you sure? Your desk is a mess.”

I looked over, seeing papers scattered. It was slightly worse than usual, but nothing like his had been when he’d asked me to reorganize it last month.

“I’ll get to it tomorrow.”

“You also need to mop the apartment too. The floors are sticky.”

“Could you do it this time?” I asked. “It’ll help my mood.”

I had hope for all of half a second that he would agree. It would have made me feel better.

But he scoffed. “Come on, Mollie. You know I’m too busy earning my salary for that.”

“I work here too.”

“But I make way more than you.”

I struggled to keep the disappointment off my face. Trevor hardly ever did anything around the house, claiming that working his job was more than enough. He expected our apartment to stay the way he liked it—orderly and clean.

Which was odd, considering he was neither of those things.

“You coming?” he asked. He was already several feet away.

My feet refused to move as I tried to sort through my emotions.

He was nice to everyone else. This was just normal man stuff. There were entire forums filled with wives who dealt with this. It wasn’t out of the normal.

So why was I so angry with him?

No, I was angry with his actions . Not him.

I tried to remember that as I forced myself to follow. I was sure once we went to this perfect house of his, I’d feel better.

Trevor even drove me in his car, promising to bring me back once we were done. I watched where we were driving, trying to figure out which part of Nashville we were heading to, but then I started to recognize the streets.

“Are we going to my parents’ house?”

“No,” he said. “Not at all. ”

I frowned as we passed the welcome sign to their neighborhood. As we went by manicured lawns I knew my mom was responsible for as the head of the HOA, even my fake good mood vanished.

Their tan and white home came up, and I crossed my arms.

Then we pulled into the driveway of the house next door.

“What?” I asked.

“Surprise. This is the house we’re seeing.”

I slowly turned toward it. This was a tan brick home with two stories. It wasn’t a new build, but it was also ten different shades of beige, just like my parents’.

Mom and Dad’s neighborhood was nice, but it was so regulated that there was no freedom to do anything different. She lurked as if catching prey when hunting down anyone out of compliance.

“R-really?” I asked. “But homes here are way too expensive.”

“Don’t worry about that. Let’s just see the inside.”

“But it’s?—”

“You’ll love it. It’s just like the house you grew up in.”

I opened my mouth, but closed it again. When I thought of my childhood home, I saw Mom and Dad’s house, but I also saw Papa Bennie’s old farmhouse. It had blue and white wallpaper, an old woodburning stove that kept everything warm in the winter, and massive windows that let all the light in.

But there was no way to use the word farm with Trevor.

Slowly, I got out of the car, hoping I would like it more on the inside.

But all I could see was gray. The owners had tried to remodel it, but they had done the same thing the modern-day builders did: They’d painted everything one tone to make it appeal to the masses .

It was the same layout as Mom and Dad’s house. An office, a dining room, and a cookie-cutter kitchen.

Papa Bennie’s kitchen had tiled countertops with leaves painted on them. It was gorgeous.

I wished I could see it again.

“There you two are!” Mom said as she walked through the door. “This is so perfect , isn’t it?”

“Hi, Maribelle.” Trevor turned with a smile. “She’s taking it all in.”

“I can’t wait for us to be neighbors. We can see each other every day !” She clapped her hands together, but then leaned toward Trevor and said in a lower voice, “And I can make sure you mow your lawn correctly.”

“I-it’s nice, but it’s way out of the budget,” I said, shaking my head. “We’ll have to find something in a different part of town.”

Mom smiled conspiratorially with Trevor. “Should we tell her?”

“We should.”

“Come on.” She waved for us to follow her. “We have something to show you.”

We walked from the empty house for sale and into theirs. Dimly, I realized I would never have any privacy. Mom would be in everything .

My nerves only grew as we walked into Dad’s office at the back of the house.

“You have a lot more than you know,” Mom said. “And with this”—she pulled out an envelope— “you can afford the house next door.”

She handed it over and I slowly opened it. Were they giving me the money for it? Was this a way-too-large check I wouldn’t feel comfortable cashing?

Instead, it was a piece of green paper and a letter .

And to my granddaughter, Mollie Mae Wilson, I leave the farm and farmhouse, as well as all employees and income.

“What? Papa Bennie’s farm?”

“He passed when you weren’t eighteen yet. It was in a trust that we never took it out of. I’ve kept it for when you needed it.”

“I’m nearly thirty. Why didn’t I know about this when I was of age?”

“You were doing so well, Mollie-bear,” Dad said. “A farm like that is a lot of responsibility, and in the time since you’ve seen it, things have changed.”

“We wanted you to have a life outside of what was given to you,” Mom added.

I looked back down. I’d thought Papa Bennie’s house was a place I’d never see again, and now it was mine ? It had been mine the whole time?

“She’s in so much shock she can’t even speak!” Trevor said with a laugh.

I slowly turned to him. “You knew?”

“Of course he knew,” Mom said. “We told him when you were struggling to find the perfect house.”

My grip on the paper tightened. He knew how much I wanted to go back. I didn’t understand. Why had he lied to me about it? Why had he let me think it was gone?

“Here’s the best part, Mollie-bear,” Dad started. “These investors would buy it from you at a higher rate. Trevor found them.”