Southern Heart Madison, Natasha (ebook and pdf reader .txt) 📖

"I’ll be back tonight to take you out of here." He looks around. "Easier to move at night than in broad daylight."

"I’ll be waiting,” I say, getting out of the truck. I walk toward the door and then turn back to look at Ethan. "What is the code to the garage?"

"Zero five thirty-one," he says. "Her birthday."

"That’s safe," I mumble, going to the keypad, and it opens once I put the last number in. I walk into the house and call her name. "Chelsea," I say with no answer.

Walking toward the kitchen, I stop and all I can see is her at the sink beside me. Leaning over and kissing her. I look over at the couch where I spent the night away listening to her breathing beside me. Where I held her in my arms and for the first time in my whole life, I felt this calmness settle over me. Breathing didn’t hurt anymore. My eyes saw the goodness in the stars instead of the darkness that usually took over. I kissed her softly when she mumbled in her sleep.

“Every family has some cracks in the foundation. It’s about finding the crack and sealing it shut." I hear her voice in my head over and over again.

"You don't have cracks in your foundation," I say to myself, walking to the bedroom and grabbing the bag. Opening the bag, I start putting my things in. My hands are almost not moving.

"You have no foundation." I walk over to the bathroom now and look at myself in the mirror. "She is too good for you. Let her go."

Chapter 22

Chelsea

"I needed this." I look over at my grandmother’s face forming into the biggest smile. She really isn’t my blood grandmother, but she has never treated anyone as if they weren’t her blood.

"I haven’t seen you bake that much since you made the decision to become a nurse,” she says, sitting down next to me. She looks over at me. "what’s got your panties in a bunch?"

"Not much," I answer quickly. "I start working for the clinic in a couple of weeks, and I guess I’m more nervous than I thought."

She puts her hand on mine. "Oh, honey, your gonna have them eating out of your hand.."

I smile at her and squeeze her hand in mine. The back door opens, and my grandfather comes in. He spots me sitting down and smiles, taking off his cowboy hat. "There she is," he says. I walk over to him, and he opens his arms for me. I wrap my arms around his waist just like I used to do when I was younger. He kisses the top of my head. "Missed you."

"Missed you, too," I say in his chest. "I smell pie," he says, letting me go, and I just laugh.

"We baked strawberry, blueberry, apple, and your favorite," Grandma says. "Pecan." She gets up and walks over to the stove to cut him a piece. "Come and have a little taste."

He walks over to her and bends to kiss her lips. Their love is one of a kind. The kind of love you wish for. The kind of love that survives the hard times. The kind of love I have wished for my whole life. "So what’s troubling you?" Grandpa says, sitting down at the counter and looking over at me. "Twelve pies," he says. "Something must be weighing on your mind.”

"Can’t I just want to bake?" I throw up my hands. "Or that I missed Grandma."

"That," he says, pointing at me with his fork, "means someone has gotten under your skin."

"No one is anywhere," I say, walking to the fridge and grabbing the sweet tea. "Besides, if someone was under my skin, I’d be out shooting with you."

He chuckles. "You always had the best shot out of everyone," he says, and he is not wrong. He taught me how to shoot when I was almost twelve, and my aim was on point. He takes another bite. "How’s your house guest?"

"Alive," I say, taking a sip of the tea. "Speaking of, I should get going."

"You coming on Sunday?" my grandfather asks, and I just nod my head. "You better or I’m going to come and get you."

"That is six days away," I say. "I’ll be there."

"Good," he says. "Now let me finish my pie, and I can drive you home.”

"I can walk," I say, putting my purse over my shoulder, and he just gives me the side-eye.

"You think just because I don’t show up at the meetings with the men that I don’t know what’s going on," he says. "I know everything about my family. So let me finish this pie, and then I can take you."

"You can’t argue with him, honey," my grandmother says, smirking at him. "Trust me, I’ve been doing that my whole life," she says.

"I let you win," he says, looking up as he takes his last bite, and my grandmother glares at him. "Like now, I’m going to let you win and kiss you right before I leave."

She shakes her head but lets him kiss her. "See you soon." She comes over to me and hugs me. "You come on back and cook with me whenever you have yourself in a pickle."

I shake my head and follow my grandfather out of the house. His pickup truck is the same one he’s had for the past twenty years. Even though Uncle Casey bought him a new one five years ago, he still drives this one.

The door creaks when I open it, and when I sit down, I feel the springs under my butt. "It’s time we retire this truck,” I say. "Don’t you think?"

"She still has a couple of years left in her," he says, and I laugh at him.

"You’ve been saying that for the last ten years," I remind him, and now he’s the one laughing.

We pull up to my house, and I lean over the seat and kiss his cheek. "Thank you for