Page 20

Eve

The hum of the car engine blended with the faint tunes of Carson's playlist, filling the silence between us. Seven hours. Seven hours to Carson's family estate, and I wasn't sure if the butterflies in my stomach were from the journey or the thought of meeting his family.

I shifted in my seat, glancing at Carson. His hands gripped the steering wheel casually, the sleeves of his hoodie rolled up to reveal his strong forearms. His gray eyes stayed fixed on the road, but the corners of his mouth tilted up like he could feel my gaze.

"You okay over there, Angel?" he asked, flicking a glance in my direction.

I nodded, playing with the hem of my sweater. "Just... thinking."

"About?"

"Your family." I hesitated. "What if they don't like me?"

He chuckled, reaching over to rest his hand on my knee. "First of all, my dad will adore you. And as for my mom..." He paused, his jaw tightening slightly. "Don't worry about her. She just needs time to warm up to people."

"Time?" I repeated, raising an eyebrow. "How much time are we talking here?"

He grinned, giving my leg a reassuring squeeze. "Let's just say she still isn't fully warmed up to my sister's husband, and they've been married for three years."

I groaned, leaning my head back against the seat. "Great. Just great."

"Relax, Eve. You've got me, okay? And if she says anything out of line, I'll handle it."

His words were comforting, but the knot in my stomach didn't completely loosen. I distract myself by watching the scenery blur past, autumn trees painted in shades of orange and gold.

The car rumbled to a stop at the gas station, the midday sun casting long shadows across the pumps. Carson stepped out, stretching his arms over his head, his gray eyes scanning the lot. I stayed in the passenger seat, scrolling aimlessly on my phone and trying not to dwell on how awkward meeting his mom might be.

"Need anything?" he asked, leaning down to my window.

I shook my head. "I'm good."

He gave me a quick nod before heading inside, his confident stride drawing the attention of a few passing customers. I watched him for a moment, my lips curving into a small smile despite myself.

The sound of a nearby car door slamming broke my thoughts, and I glanced up. A sleek red convertible had pulled up to the pump beside us, and stepping out was a girl who looked like she belonged in a fashion magazine.

Blonde hair cascaded in perfect waves down her back, and she wore a tight white tank top and designer jeans that hugged her frame. Her large sunglasses perched atop her head as she rummaged through her purse, seemingly oblivious to the world around her.

And then I saw her face.

Lola.

Of course.

She didn't notice me at first, too busy fiddling with the pump. I considered sinking down into my seat and pretending I didn't exist, but before I could act, she glanced my way and froze.

A slow, smug smile spread across her face as she adjusted her sunglasses. "Eve, right?"

I rolled down the window halfway, plastering on a neutral expression. "That's me."

She leaned one arm on the roof of her car, tilting her head as she studied me. "What a coincidence. What are you doing all the way out here?"

"Road trip," I said curtly.

"With Carson, I assume?"

I nodded, my stomach twisting as her smile grew.

"Wow," she said, drawing out the word as if it was some profound revelation. "Didn't peg you for the type to road trip with the family."

I bristled at the implication but forced myself to stay calm. "We're visiting his parents."

Her eyebrows shot up. "Meeting the Blakes? That's bold."

"It's really not that big of a deal," I replied, my voice tight.

"Oh, trust me," she said with a laugh, "it is. His mom can be... particular."

I didn't reply, unwilling to give her the satisfaction of a reaction.

Carson stepped out of the gas station at that moment, a bottle of water in one hand and a small bag of snacks in the other. He paused when he saw Lola, his jaw tightening ever so slightly.

"Lola," he said, his tone flat. "What are you doing here?"

"Just passing through," she replied, her voice sugary sweet. "Fancy seeing you here."

"Yeah. Small world." He walked past her to my side of the car, handing me the water and snacks. "You okay?"

I nodded, but Lola wasn't finished.

"You know, Carson," she said, crossing her arms and leaning casually against her car, "your mom was just saying the other day how much she missed me."

Carson sighed, his patience visibly wearing thin. "That's nice."

"She always did have a soft spot for me," Lola continued, her eyes flicking to me. "We just get each other, you know?"

"Lola," Carson said firmly, "we've got a long drive ahead. Nice seeing you, but we've got to go."

Her smile faltered, but she quickly recovered. "Of course. Drive safe."

I watched her as Carson climbed back into the car, her gaze lingering on him for a moment too long before she finally turned away.

As we pulled out of the lot, I stared out the window, my fists clenched in my lap.

"She's harmless," Carson said after a moment, his voice soft.

"Sure," I muttered, not trusting myself to say more.

He reached over, his hand brushing against mine. "She's just trying to get under your skin. Don't let her."

I nodded, but the knot in my chest didn't loosen. Meeting his mom was going to be hard enough without Lola stirring the pot.

Carson's hand lingered on mine, his thumb brushing against my knuckles. "For what it's worth," he said quietly, "I'm really glad you're here."

His words softened the tension in my chest, and I turned to him, offering a small smile.

"Me too,"

The Blakes estate was sprawling, a testament to the wealth Carson had tried to downplay. As we pulled into the long gravel driveway, my stomach churned with nerves. The house itself was a picturesque blend of Southern charm and modern luxury—white columns, large bay windows, and a wraparound porch adorned with hanging flower baskets.

Carson parked the car, glancing at me with a reassuring smile. "You ready?"

"Not remotely," I muttered, fiddling with the strap of my bag.

"You'll be fine. My dad's great, and Becca's going to love you."

"And your mom?"

He hesitated, his smile faltering slightly. "Just... don't take anything she says too personally, okay?"

Great.

We stepped out of the car, and before I could even grab my bag, a woman came rushing out of the front door. She was tall and graceful, with long brown hair tied into a loose braid and a wide, welcoming smile.

"Carson!" she called, practically throwing herself into his arms.

"Becca," he laughed, spinning her around before setting her down.

She turned to me, her smile never wavering. "You must be Eve! I'm Rebecca, but everyone calls me Becca. It's so nice to finally meet you."

Her warmth was disarming, and I found myself smiling despite my nerves. "It's nice to meet you too."

Becca pulled me into a quick hug, then stepped back, her eyes sparkling. "I've heard so much about you. Carson talks about you all the time."

I glanced at Carson, who was suddenly very interested in the gravel beneath his feet.

Before I could respond, an older man appeared on the porch, his graying hair and kind eyes making him instantly likable.

"And this is my dad," Carson said, his voice filled with affection.

"James Blake," his dad said, extending a hand. His grip was firm but warm. "Welcome to our home, Eve."

"Thank you for having me," I said, feeling a little more at ease.

But the reprieve didn't last long.

"Carson," a cool, clipped voice called from the doorway.

I turned to see a woman stepping out onto the porch, her posture rigid and her expression unreadable. Her blonde hair was perfectly styled, and her tailored outfit looked like it cost more than my entire wardrobe.

"And this is my mom," Carson said, his tone noticeably more reserved. "Cynthia."

"Mrs. Blake," I said politely, offering a small smile.

Her gaze swept over me, sharp and assessing. "Eve, is it? Carson's mentioned you."

There was something about the way she said it that made my stomach twist.

Becca, sensing the tension, stepped in smoothly. "Let's get you settled in, Eve. You must be tired from the drive."

"Good idea," Carson said quickly, grabbing my bag.

"I'll take that," Cynthia said, her tone leaving no room for argument. "The guest room is all ready for you."

Carson blinked, glancing at me. "Guest room?"

"Yes," Cynthia said, her smile cold. "I thought it would be more appropriate, given that you're... friends."

Becca shot me an apologetic look but didn't argue. "Come on, Eve. I'll show you where it is."

Carson looked like he wanted to say something, but I shook my head, silently telling him to let it go.

Upstairs, Becca led me to a cozy, well-decorated guest room. She closed the door behind us and sighed. "I'm so sorry about her. She's just... set in her ways."

"It's fine," I lied, setting my bag on the bed.

Becca sat down in the armchair by the window, her expression sympathetic. "For what it's worth, my dad and I think you're great. And Carson's crazy about you, so don't let her get to you."

"Thanks," I said softly, sitting on the edge of the bed.

She smiled. "So, how long have you two been friends?"

I hesitated. "It's... complicated."

Becca laughed. "Isn't it always? I think he needs someone like you. You keep him grounded."

Before I could respond, there was a knock at the door.

"Come in," Becca called.

Carson stepped in, his hands shoved into his pockets. "Hey. You okay?"

"I'm fine," I said, standing up.

He glanced at Becca. "Mind if I steal her for a bit?"

"Go ahead," she said with a wink.

Carson led me downstairs and out the back door. The property stretched out endlessly, with rolling pastures and a large barn in the distance.

"Where are we going?" I asked.

"You'll see," he said, taking my hand and leading me toward the barn.

Inside, the scent of hay and horses filled the air. A few horses stood in their stalls, their ears twitching as we approached. Carson stopped in front of a sleek black horse with a white blaze down its nose.

I watched him as he talked about the horses, his love for them evident in every word. For a moment, it felt like we were in our own little world, far away from the tension of the house and the sharp edge of his mother's disapproval.

Carson was leaning against the stall door, the golden light of the sunset framing him like a painting. He turned to look at me, his gray eyes soft but filled with a hint of mischief.

"You're staring," he teased, a crooked grin forming.

"Am not," I shot back, though my cheeks betrayed me with their warmth.

Before I could say anything else, he stepped closer, bridging the small distance between us. His hand came up to gently cup my face, his thumb brushing along my cheek.

"You're beautiful, you know that?"

"Carson..." I started, but my words trailed off as he leaned in, his lips meeting mine.

The kiss was soft, warm, and entirely too intoxicating. My hands instinctively found their way to his chest, clutching at the fabric of his shirt. The scent of leather and fresh hay surrounded me, grounding me in this perfect, fleeting moment.

When we finally broke apart, I was breathless. But then the reality of where we were hit me, and I playfully swatted his chest.

"Carson Blake, did you just kiss me under your parents' roof?"

He laughed, his grin wide and boyish. "What can I say? I'm a risk-taker."

"You're impossible," I said, shaking my head but unable to hide my own smile.

"Am I?" he asked, stepping closer again, but I held up a hand.

"Don't push your luck," I warned, though my tone was more teasing than serious. "I'm going back to the guest room before you get me into any more trouble."

He smirked, clearly pleased with himself. "Goodnight, Eve."

"Goodnight," I said, trying to sound stern but failing miserably as I turned and made my way back to the house.

I changed into my pajamas and crawled into the neatly made bed in the guest room. The sheets were soft and smelled faintly of cinnamon, but no matter how I positioned myself, I couldn't get comfortable. My mind was too full—of Carson, his family, and the whirlwind of emotions I couldn't seem to untangle.

After what felt like hours of tossing and turning, I gave up. Slipping on one of Carsons hoodies I stole, I padded downstairs and out onto the front porch. The cool night air was refreshing, and the sky was a canvas of stars, each one twinkling brighter than the last.

I wrapped my arms around myself, leaning against the wooden railing and taking a deep breath. For a moment, I let myself forget about everything—about my father's threats, Carson's mother's disdain, and the weight of my past.

The stars above the ranch seemed to whisper secrets of lives untouched by chaos, and for a fleeting moment, I wished I could gather their peace and sew it into the fabric of my own past.

"Couldn't sleep either?"

I jumped slightly at the voice and turned to see Carsons dad stepping out onto the porch, a steaming mug of tea in his hand.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake anyone," I said quickly.

He waved off my concern with a kind smile. "You didn't. I'm a night owl, and the porch is my favorite place to think."

He settled into a rocking chair, gesturing for me to sit on the bench nearby. I hesitated but eventually took a seat, tucking my legs under me.

"You've had quite the day," he said, his voice gentle.

"You could say that," I admitted with a small laugh.

He studied me for a moment, his expression thoughtful. "I know Cynthia can be... difficult. But don't let her get to you. She's just protective of Carson, sometimes to a fault."

I get it," I said, though I wasn't sure I completely did. "He's her son. She wants what's best for him."

"She does," he agreed. "But sometimes, what she thinks is best and what is best aren't the same thing."

His words hung in the air, and I wasn't sure how to respond.

"I like you, Eve," he said after a moment. "You've got a good head on your shoulders. And from what I can see, you make Carson happy. That's what matters to me."

"Thank you," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

We sat in companionable silence for a while, the only sound the gentle creak of his rocking chair and the occasional rustle of leaves in the breeze.

"I should probably head back to bed," I said eventually, standing up.

"Goodnight," he said with a nod, his smile as warm as ever.

"Goodnight, Mr. Blake."

I crawled into bed, pulling the covers up to my chin. The house was quiet now, the kind of quiet that felt safe and steady.

For the first time, I let myself think about what it might've been like to grow up in a family like this. A family with love, support, and stability.

A pang of longing settled in my chest, but I pushed it away, focusing instead on the thought of Carson. His laugh, his touch, the way he looked at me like I was the only thing that mattered.

With that thought, I finally felt my body relax, and sleep claimed me.