Page 11 of Friends are Forever (Teton Mountain #6)
R eva squinted through the airplane window as the familiar outline of the Tetons came into view, jagged and proud, their snowy peaks lit by the early evening sun. As the plane dipped lower toward the Jackson Hole airport, a tightness wrapped around her ribs—part homesickness, part dread.
This was home. She’d only been gone a week, and it felt like a month.
And yet…her heart was still back in Georgia, wrapped in hospital sheets and a grandmother’s failing breath.
The wheels touched down with a soft screech, and the plane slowed to a crawl on the runway. Reva barely noticed the bustle of passengers rising, collecting bags and exchanging polite smiles. She moved on autopilot, her mind crowded with questions she hadn’t dared answer.
Inside the terminal, the crowd parted—and there they were.
Lucan broke free from Kellen’s grasp, his little legs pumping. “Mama!”
Reva dropped her bag and scooped him up, burying her face in his curls, breathing him in like a woman starved. Kellen caught up, his expression equal parts relief and concern.
“You okay?” he asked, brushing her hair from her face.
She nodded, swallowing back the lump that had lodged there since Atlanta. “Thanks for retrieving my car and then coming back to pick me up. Let’s get out of here.”
They made it to the car without much conversation, Lucan already chattering in the back seat. “Mama, I found a rock that looks like a potato. It’s in my pocket—wait, no…it was in my pocket.”
Reva smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes.
As they pulled onto the highway, Kellen glanced at her. “So...how was it? How’s Grand Memaw?”
Reva exhaled slowly, turning toward the window. “Not good. Worse than I’ve ever seen her. She’s skin and bones now, but still stubborn as ever. One minute she’s making perfect sense, the next she’s falling asleep mid-sentence.”
Kellen didn’t say anything, just reached for her hand.
Reva continued, her voice quieter now. “Mama’s already talking about the funeral—where to hold it, who to call, what kind of hat she’ll wear.
She means well, but she’s steeped in social expectations.
Always has been. Her world runs on handwritten thank-you notes, heirloom linens, and the quiet currency of reputation. ”
“And your brother?” Kellen asked. “Is he helping?”
Reva hesitated. “Quincy’s fine. He and Scarlett haven’t changed much. But…he made a comment that stuck with me. Said something about ‘waiting on the loan paperwork to come through,’ but then he changed the subject real quick. When I pressed him, he finally admitted he’s buying a Cirrus SR22.”
Kellen’s eyebrows lifted. “An airplane?”
“Apparently a very nice one.”
“Yeah, those planes can run a half mil, new.”
Reva nodded. “Seems like an outrageous splurge to me. He’s usually better with money than that. It’s probably nothing, but…I don’t know. Something felt off.” She didn’t mention that he was seeking to sell the pecan farm.
Kellen pulled onto Highway 26 and headed north. “Sounds like you’ve got a lot on your mind.”
She turned to face him fully then, her voice steady. “I do.”
A beat of silence passed. And then—quietly, deliberately—Reva said the words she’d been holding since she left Georgia.
“I think I need to go back. For good.”
Kellen’s jaw tightened slightly. He didn’t look at her, but the air in the car seemed to shift. Even Lucan, humming to himself in the back, grew suddenly quiet.
Reva stared out the windshield, heart pounding, waiting for her husband to say something.
Anything.
Kellen kept his eyes on the road, the lines blurring past in the headlights. One hand stayed on the wheel, the other still loosely holding hers, though she could feel the tension in his fingers now.
“You mean…move to Georgia?” he said at last, as if testing how the words tasted in his mouth. “Like— move move?”
Reva nodded, barely. “She asked me to take over Sunnyside Acres. Said it was my calling. Said she didn’t want it to leave the family.”
“What about your brother?” Kellen posed, asking the obvious.
“She says he’s already talking to realtors.
That, coupled with the spending—well, leaving Sunnyside solely in his control might end badly.
And before you ask if I could run the pecan operation from here, the answer is not likely.
I’m good at a lot of things, but juggling crop yields, irrigation schedules, and payroll from two thousand miles away isn’t one of them. ”
She paused, her voice quieter now.
“Truth is, I’m already spread too thin. Between mayoral duties, casework piling up at the firm, and trying to be a good mama to Lucan…something’s always slipping through the cracks. I already lie awake most nights wondering which one of those balls will hit the ground first.”
She looked at Kellen then, her eyes shining. “But the farm in Georgia—it’s more than just dirt and trees. It’s my family’s legacy.”
A long pause. Lucan, behind them, had gone quiet, lulled by the motion of the car or maybe sensing the shift in his parents’ voices.
Kellen exhaled through his nose, slow and deliberate. “I figured something was weighing on you. Just didn’t expect…this.”
“I didn’t either.” Her voice cracked slightly.
“My great-granddaddy started with nothing but callused hands and the will to build something that would last. He carved Sunnyside Acres from red clay and grit, in a time when the world gave him every reason to fail. But he didn’t He held on.
And so did the generations after him. This is Lucan’s heritage. ”
He nodded again, but slower this time. “I get that. I really do, Reva. But what about us? Our life here. Our work. Your mayor’s seat. This is our home. What you’re talking about—well, it’s big. You know?”
She didn’t answer. Not right away.
Kellen glanced at her, then back to the road, his voice gentler now. “I’m not saying no. I’m just saying...this isn’t small. There are a lot of consequences to consider.”
The tires hummed against the pavement, filling the silence between them.
Reva stared out into the dusk. “Believe me, I know.”