Page 8

Sierra

I hang up the phone and look at it for a whole two minutes before I put it down beside me on the couch.

My heart races when I close my eyes and see him standing in front of me wearing his fucking sunglasses, looking like he’s a GQ fucking model instead of a contractor.

Sure, he was wearing worn jeans and a gray T-shirt that molded to him with his steel-toed boots.

His dark brown hair pushed back, and you could see where his fingers went into said hair.

My eyes went to the tattoos on his arms, trying not to ogle them too much while telling myself that he’s off-limits.

He’s also way too good-looking to start anything with.

You just know a guy that good-looking must have a trail of broken hearts behind him.

I have enough shit going on in my life. I don’t need to take on Caleb Walker.

I pick my phone back up when I hear a ping coming from it and see I have an email from CW Construction. I open it up and see he just sent it to me.

From: cw@ cwconstruction.com

To: SD@ sdgraphic.com

Subject: Quote

Sierra,

As per our telephone conversation, here is the quote. Please let me know if you need to discuss anything further.

I’ve also attached a couple of pictures I took today of before and after.

Caleb

I open the attachment and cringe when I see how much it’s going to cost me to fix up the old house.

Then I thank my grandfather for leaving me an inheritance substantial enough to cover the cost of the house and the renovations, and I’ll still have some left over.

It’s a good thing my investments are paying off.

I open the pictures, and my eyes almost bug out of my head when I see how much work they did in one day. I put the phone down before getting up and heading to the kitchen, seeing the boxes that I’ve already started to pack. Tomorrow is going to be a big day.

My alarm goes off at six, but I’m already making coffee in the kitchen. The nerves in my stomach are going crazy since I know today is going to be a rough day for me. I get dressed in sweatpants and a sweater before going over to my childhood home.

Getting out and walking up the steps, I take a deep breath before I ring the doorbell.

I’ve never rung the doorbell before, but walking in to me seems strange.

The door is pulled open by my father, who is already dressed for the day in slacks and a button-down shirt.

“Sierra,” he says, shocked, “why on earth are you ringing the doorbell?” He moves away from the door, giving me access to the house.

I step in at the same time he comes to kiss my cheek, and my mother peeks her head out from around the corner where she is in the kitchen.

“Who is it?” she asks, and then her eyes light up when she sees me.

“Sierra.” Her voice is filled with happiness.

“I didn’t know you were coming over this morning.

” She comes to me wearing her long gray cashmere robe.

She opens her arms to give me a hug, and I walk over to her, hugging her, closing my eyes tight as my stomach clenches with nerves.

Only when she’s let me go does she look at me. “Did you forget your key?”

“Yeah,” I lie to her, but when I look over my shoulder at my father, he puts his hands in his pockets and smiles tightly at the lie he knows I just told, but he doesn’t call me out on it.

“Come in, come in,” she invites me, wrapping her arm around my shoulder and walking me more into the house. “I was just making breakfast.” She lets go of me as she walks toward the kitchen, and I follow her. “Do you want pancakes or waffles?” she asks me of my go-to breakfast when I’m at home.

“I think I’ll just have coffee,” I tell her, too nervous to eat anything.

I feel like I’m going to vomit and the last thing I need is to put food in my stomach.

I am so nervous, almost like I’m a kid who knows that I have a bad report card coming in and I have to break it to my parents how bad it’s going to be.

She turns, and I can see the worry on her face now. “Is everything all right?”

I nod. “Yes, everything is fine, Mom. I just wanted to talk to you guys.” Her hand comes up to close the top of her robe, and I can see her fisting her hand so tight her knuckles are going to turn white soon.

“Oh,” she says, and my father walks past me and heads to the coffee machine.

“Okay.” She pretends that she’s fine. I walk over to the coffee machine and make myself coffee.

Meanwhile, my father tries to pretend nothing is happening as he goes about making himself two pieces of toast, and my mother goes to the fridge to grab her tub of yogurt and granola that she usually has for breakfast. “I have fruit already cut up.” She puts the fruit down on the counter as my father butters his toast and looks over at her.

“I’ll have some of that,” I say to try to get her to relax, knowing what I’m going to tell her is probably going to kill her. Also knowing I have no choice but to do what I need to do.

It takes about ten minutes for us to all sit at the table in the kitchen. My mother nervously eats the parfait she created even though she barely puts anything on her spoon. “Okay, so what is this meeting about?” She finally gives in, not willing to have another minute go by.

I pick up my cup of coffee to take a sip, since my mouth feels suddenly dry.

“There are a couple of things, actually,” I say, putting my mug down.

“The first thing is, which is kind of the biggest thing.” I take a deep inhale before I say the word.

“I’m going to be moving.” The minute I say the words, the gasp from my mother fills the room and I look over to see her holding her chest, like she was just stabbed in the heart.

“I think it’s a good idea to just get away for a little while.

” I try to soften the blow, but my father reaches out and puts his hand on top of my mother’s.

“That sounds like it will do you good,” my father responds, and I look over at him, not able to gauge his look at me. “Where do you think you’ll be going?”

“I bought a house in Montgavin,” I state, and now it’s my father’s turn to look shocked.

“You bought a house?” He sits up straight. “Without consulting us?”

“It’s a fixer-upper house, and I got it for under market price.

I had someone go out there and do an evaluation before I even signed the papers.

” His eyebrows go up since I would have normally gone to him for all of this, but I couldn’t this time.

“It happened really fast.” At least that is the truth; it really did snowball.

The offer was accepted in twenty-five minutes without a counter.

The house was in a trust from their grandparents, and ten people wanted the sale to close. None of them wanted the house.

“A fixer-upper.” He shakes his head. “Do you know how much work that is going to be and going to cost? You didn’t even think about it for even one second, you flew by the seat of your pants, and then in a month or two, you will regret it, and then what?

” His voice goes higher as the sentence goes on.

I try not to let his words sting. “Then I’ll have a house I can turn around and sell for profit.” I leave out that I will have to wait for the construction to be finished before I do all this, but he doesn’t need to know all the details. I don’t think he would be too happy about it anyway.

“What are you going to do about the house you have here?” He lets go of my mother’s hand to put his on the table, and I can see his index finger tapping the table nervously.

“I haven’t decided, to be honest,” I tell him. They bought me that house as a graduation present. Both of them making sure that everything was perfect before handing me the brown box with the keys tied to a white ribbon.

“For now, it’ll just sit there, and I can always come and spend half the time here when I—” I stop, not ready to say the rest just yet. Needing to have a little bit more courage for that. I suddenly wish I had taken maybe a shot of tequila before coming here.

“At least you’ll have Lilah there for you,” my mother offers softly. “She’s always been such a good friend to you.”

“She has, and it’s about twenty minutes from her, so that will be fun. Especially with the baby on the way,” I agree, picking up my coffee again when my mouth feels like it’s getting dry. I brace for the impact of my next words.

“Well, we can’t wait to visit,” my mother says, looking over at my father, who is still just looking at me. “Right?”

“Yeah,” he agrees and smiles over at her, “I can’t wait.” He picks up his cup of coffee.

“When are you moving?” my mother asks me, finally taking a spoonful of her yogurt.

“By the end of the week,” I relay, and her eyes go big.

“So soon?” she says when she swallows. “That’s so fast.” She blinks furiously, and I know she’s fighting back tears.

“I have a break in my schedule.” Another lie.

I had to email everyone and ask for a couple of days’ extension.

I’ll be doing most of the packing at night, but I know I’ll have to take a couple of days off to get to the house and then unpack some of my stuff.

“So I thought I might as well do it when I’m not on a deadline or anything. ”

“That makes sense.” She smiles. “But still, it seems so fast. Do you need help packing?”

“Not really,” I tell her. “I’m just going to pack my bedroom and stuff, and then see how I settle in before I move the whole house there.” She nods.

“That makes sense. What if you don’t like it?”

“No, making sense would be testing it out before buying a whole-ass house,” my father snaps. “That makes sense. Buying a house out of the blue does not make any sense.”

“Well, it’s done, and I got the keys, so we can agree to disagree on this part at least.” I try not to snap at him.

“There was also another thing I wanted to talk to you guys about.” My mother puts her spoon down as I avoid even looking at her.

“Ever since I found out that I was…” I take a deep breath in.

“I’ve had a thousand and one questions.”

“We wish we had the answers to give you,” my mother states, her voice filled with sorrow.

“I know.” I finally look up at her and then at my father.

“I know if you knew the answers, you would, without a doubt, share them with me.” Neither of them says a word.

“So I was thinking of looking for my birth parents.” I can tell the minute I say the sentence and the words, my mother’s heart breaks.

“It has nothing to do with you or how I was brought up, or any of that.” I try to make her feel better.

“It has nothing to do with you, and everything to do with me.”

“You are who you are”—my father tosses the white linen napkin he had on his lap onto the table—“because of the way we love and adore you.”

“I know that.” My heart speeds up nervously. “I know all of that,” I repeat breathlessly as my own tears itch at my eyes. “It’s just something I need to do.”

“Whatever you need,” my mother assures me, her voice higher than normal, “is what we will give you. Whatever it is, whatever you need.” I have to say I didn’t expect her to be so strong.

“I want to meet the woman who gave me the biggest gift I’ve ever gotten.

I want to thank her for doing the most selfless thing a person can do.

” She picks up her own linen napkin and dabs the corner of her eyes.

“I don’t know how she had the courage to do it. ”

“She put her in a box and dumped her off at a fire station.” My father’s voice is tight. “She didn’t even have the decency to set up something with an adoption agency.”

“I thought of that also.” I try not to let his words get to me.

“Did you ever think that maybe she doesn’t want to be found?” he asks. “Did you ever think she did what she did because she didn’t care?”

I swallow down the lump. “You are going to open Pandora’s box. What do you expect out of all of this?”

“I don’t expect anything,” I admit. “I just want to know where I come from.”

“I think you’re making a big mistake.” He pushes away from the table and stands. “Before you start this, ask yourself, are you okay if she wants nothing to do with you?”

I swallow at his question. “I’m going to have to be.” I put my shoulders back standing straight, “But what if she’s waiting for me to contact her? What if?—”

“What if she isn’t?” he asks. “It’s not all fucking roses, Sierra.”

“That’s enough!” my mother snaps, slapping the table.

“She wants to do this, and we are going to support her in any way we can.” I close my eyes.

“If all the negative happens to her and she finds out her birth mother doesn’t want her, we are going to be there to hold her up and make sure she feels loved.

” She shakes her head. “It isn’t about us,” she tells him.

“You’re scared of losing her. You don’t think I’m just as scared? ”

“Mom,” I say, the tears running down my face. “Dad.” He looks at me, and I can see the anguish all over his face. “You guys will never lose me.”

“But what if we do?” my father asks. I get up on my feet despite my weak knees and go over to him. “What if we lose you?”

“You can’t ever lose me.” I grab his hands. “I’m your daughter.” He takes me in his arms, and I hug his waist. “I’m your daughter,” I repeat.

“I love you, Sierra. You’ll never, ever understand just how much we both love you.” He kisses the top of my head. “Never.”