Page 22 of Home Town Advantage (Fourth Quarter Fever #1)

As soon as I’m in my truck, I instruct Siri to call Maddie. She answers after several rings. In a voice that seems less than thrilled to be hearing from me, she says, “Hi, Vance.”

“Hey, Mad. I sent some birthday gifts for Francesca with my check this month. I know they’re a few weeks early, but I wanted to make sure she had them by her birthday and my season starts next week. I tend to lose time and forget things when the season starts.”

She sighs. “Yep, they came this morning.” She exhales a long breath. “I’m going to remove the card. I don’t want her to know who they came from.”

My jaw tightens. “You can always say they came from her father.”

“No, Vance. Curtis is her father.” She pauses. “At least the only father she’s ever known. We’ve discussed this. You’re not around for her. Curtis is. Hit and run fathering isn’t what she needs. I appreciate all you do for her, but I can’t have you upsetting the applecart.”

I try to remain calm. “Listen, I’m thinking of coming home for at least a month or two this year whenever my season is over so I can get to know her properly. I want to spend real time with her.”

She immediately responds, “No. She’s at an age when she’s going to start asking questions about who you are.

What would I say? It was fine for you to pop in twice a year when she was younger, but not anymore.

We’ve discussed this. She loves Curtis. He loves her.

He’s the biological father of her brother and sister.

It’s easier for them all to think they have the same father.

Less confusing. Please. Leave our arrangement as is. She’s thriving.”

“But I want ? —”

Her tone escalates. “What you want doesn’t matter,” she interrupts. “You and I made this decision years ago. Curtis Huddle is the only father she knows. He’s in her life every single day. I’m the decision maker. This is how it’s going to be. You have no right. That’s a fact.”

There are so many things I want to say to Maddie, but I hold my tongue, like I always have.

Curtis fucking Huddle, Maddie’s husband, is a jobless piece of shit, happy to live on my money, but I can’t deny that he’s been there for Francesca, and she seems to love him.

At the end of the day, I want what’s best for Francesa, and if Curtis is it, then I’ll stay where I’ve always been. In the shadows.

I nervously drive Sulley and me out of the city. She asks a million questions along the way, but I remain tight-lipped. I don’t know how she’s going to handle what’s about to happen, but I’m dying to share this with her over anyone else, even Daylen.

We pull through the secluded, tree-lined gravel driveway until we reach a clearing. The property is currently full of cement trucks, pickup trucks, and two big trailers. Sulley pinches her eyebrows. “A construction site?”

I nod toward the fresh cement falling from the trucks. “They’re laying the foundation today for my new house. I…umm…I wanted you to be here for it.”

I don’t know how she’s going to react, but I want her here. I need her here.

She nods, thinking she understands. “Oh. Your new house. That was quick. You’re moving forward? ”

I nod as I grab my bag from the backseat and open the door. “Come on, I want to show you a few things.”

We exit the vehicle and make our way to the main trailer.

Walking inside, I see my general contractor, Collin Fitz.

He’s about ten years older than me. He owns a high-end construction company specializing in custom mansions.

He built Cougars pitcher Quincy Abbott’s mansion and is currently building Layton and Arizona’s.

When I showed him what I wanted, he was really excited about the project.

He said it’s completely different from anything in the area. I love that.

Collin, who is a decent-looking guy with hair a little longer than mine, lifts his head and smiles. “Vance! Glad you’re here. We have a question about the fireplaces.”

I shake my head. “The answer is wood burning. No self-respecting cowboy has a gas fireplace. Stop asking. My answer will never change. I don’t care what it means for the chimneys. I don’t care that it will cost me extra money. Wood fucking burning only.”

He chuckles. “Fine. Can’t blame a guy for asking. I’ll make it work.”

I nod as I point to the beautiful woman next to me. “This is my friend, Sulley.”

Collin’s grin widens. “Sulley O’Shea. The new sweetheart of Philly. I know who she is. I’m close with the Daultons. Carter and I have been friends since we were little kids. Reagan is my baby mama’s cousin.” He moves to shake Sulley’s hand. “I’m Collin Fitz.”

She shakes his hand. “Nice to meet you, though I’m not sure why I’m here.”

I motion my head toward the architectural prints he has scattered across the office desk. “Can you give Sulley and me a minute with these? Alone.”

Collin nods. “Sure thing, bud.” He commands the three other workers to leave, and he follows close behind them, shutting the trailer door as he goes .

Sulley turns to me with a confused look on her face. Folding her arms across her body, she asks, “Why do we need to be alone? Why did you bring me here, Vance?”

I point toward the drawings. “Have a look. Please.”

She walks over and begins studying them carefully. I see the moment it hits her. Her hand covers her mouth, and tears immediately fill her eyes. She whispers, “It’s his design.”

I pull out my wallet and remove the folded napkin I’ve carried in there for fifteen years. It’s the one with Finn’s initial sketch of my dream house. The one we planned on him designing for me. Like every sketch he drew, it’s signed Finn’s Fantastic Designs .

When the military sent home his belongings, they included preliminary architectural drawings for my house.

He must have worked on them during his downtime.

They weren’t detailed yet, but they were more than halfway done.

Either he didn’t have time to finish them or he was waiting to learn how to do so in school.

Either way, it was the best thing I’ve ever received in my life. A final gift from the grave.

Before the madness surrounding Maddie ensued, Finn’s mother sent me the drawings, knowing I’d want them.

I’ve been waiting for the right architect to bring his vision to life.

I must have sent the drawings to fifty different companies before one small shop truly understood what I wanted.

It took a few years of me arguing with them back and forth, but they finally became perfect and exactly what I know Finn imagined.

And once I met Collin and saw his enthusiasm and skill, I knew he was the right one to build it.

I had already purchased the land, which also took me time to find, but when I found this previously wooded plot, I knew I was home.

“I always promised I’d be his first client.”

Tears now freefall from her eyes. It’s quiet for several minutes as she takes in this moment. At some point, her pained, glassy blue eyes look up at me. “Why, Vance? Why did you do it? Why Maddie? You can have anyone you want. Anyone . You knew he loved her.”

I pull my eyes from hers as I shake my head. “We’re not here to talk about that. I can’t change the past. Leave it in the past where it belongs.”

“But you can explain it to me. Until the day I die, I’ll never understand it.”

I’m quiet. I have no words for her. None that I’m willing to give her right now.

She eventually turns her attention back to the drawings and quietly runs her fingers over the designs as if she’s touching a part of him. I feel the same when I see them. I can only imagine what it will feel like when the house is done.

She studies every aspect of them carefully, as if committing it all to memory. It truly is special in so many ways. He would have taken the architecture world by storm. I know it.

It’s not the modern monstrosity I live in now.

I fucking hate my condo and all that it represents.

My new house, Finn’s design, is an homage to our roots.

At its core, it’s a cabin. It might be an eight-thousand-square-foot cabin that will look like it belongs in a luxury mountain magazine, but it’s a cabin, a ranch, and it’s exactly what I want.

Finn knew. You can take a cowboy off the ranch, but even in a big city, he’s still a cowboy and wants to live like one.

I point to some of the open land out the window. “When I retire, I want to build a stable and get horses. It’s too hard with my travel schedule now, but in a few years, that’s what I want.”

She gives me a small smile. “You always loved to ride.”

“So did you.”

The O’Sheas didn’t have horses of their own. I think it was a combination of finances and the fact that Finn was highly allergic to them. I took Sulley out on our ranch several times. She loved it.

She cracks a small smile. “Is Hail Mary still alive?”

She was Sulley’s favorite horse .

I shake my head. “No, she’s gone. Her daughter, Snap Count, is still alive though. You should ride her next time you’re home. She handles like Hail Mary.”

Sulley presses her lips together, remaining silent at the offer.

I hold up the bag in my hand. “I have a few of Finn’s things. Will you help me put them in the foundation? I want to feel his presence in this house when it’s done.”

She turns her head, so our eyes meet again. “I don’t know that I can. It feels like I’m betraying him.”

I shake my head. “Just the opposite. You're honoring him. You know what being an architect meant to him. This is the only house he will ever design. You should be a part of it. He would want that.”

“He designed his cabin. My cabin.”

“He roughly sketched that on a high school notepad. We made things up as we went along. If you knew how off-kilter some things in that house are, you’d laugh.

This house. This home. He designed it like the professional he should have become, and it will be built by actual construction professionals.

It will be Finn O’Shea’s masterpiece. Finn’s Fantastic Designs will be the official architect of record.

His unique vision will be on display in every corner of this house and will live on forever. I’m naming it Finn’s Farm.”

She covers her mouth as she lets out a loud sob. Every instinct in my body tells me to take her into my arms, but I know she doesn’t want that. I have to ball my fists because they’re trembling to comfort her.

I motion my head toward the door. “Come. You’ll regret it if you don’t.”

She wipes the tears from under her eyes and eventually nods. “Okay.”

We walk toward the area where the cement is currently pouring from the truck. I pull out his away jersey from our high school team. I know Sulley has his home jersey. It’s got number twenty-two on it. I give her a small smile. “I love that you share the same number as him.”

She nods as she watches me toss it into the wet cement before it’s quickly swallowed down.

I then throw in a few photos of us. I have copies, but I want photos of us to be buried here.

After a few more small items are thrown in, things we collected through the years, I pull the last item off my wrist. It’s a small leather band. Sulley had bought them for us as holiday gifts one year. They were made from a football. She whispers, “You kept it.”

I nod. “We refused to call them friendship bracelets because that was so girly.”

She gives me a small smile.

I continue, “But we knew they were. He was buried with his. I thought I’d bury mine here.”

I toss it in, and we both look on as it disappears to its final resting place. Tears silently roll down her cheeks. It’s taking everything I have to hold mine back.

She tilts her head back and looks into the sky for a moment, as if communicating with him. Once she brings it back down, she unzips the small purse she’s wearing across her chest. She reaches in, and I inhale a sharp breath at what she pulls out.

“You don’t have to.”

She shakes her head. “I can’t explain it. I just have this strong feeling that he’d want me to.”

She takes one last long look at his dog tags before pulling one of the two off the chain, kissing it, and then throwing it into the cement. She squeezes the remaining tag with white-knuckle force as she watches its partner find its final resting place.

Both her gesture and seeing it disappear cause a wave of emotion to overtake my body. A large knot forms in my throat.

I don’t want her to see me like this, so I turn and quickly make my way into a more private wooded area before eventually allowing myself to cry. My shoulders shake as it all hits me. I lean on a tree and sob in a way I haven’t since the day we found out he was killed.

Why him? He was such a good, honorable man. He didn’t deserve it. It’s been more than five years, and the pain feels as fresh as it did the day we lost him.

After a few minutes, I feel her hand on my back. Her touch is tentative at first, but she eventually wraps her arms around my body, sinks her face into my back, and sobs with me.

I turn around and do what I’ve wanted to do the whole time we’ve been here. I take her into my arms and hold her tight as we both freely release the emotions that have been constantly weighing on us.

Holding her feels so right. It feels like home.