And then what would happen when Dax moved on to something else? When this project was done and he was ready for a new challenge? Or worse, when this didn’t work out as planned and he shifted focus? What would that do to Jack?
She swallowed hard. “I’m going to head out since you guys seem to have a lot to do.” She crossed to where Jack was sitting and gave him a tight hug and a kiss on the cheek. She stepped back and looked at him for a long moment. “You look good, Dad.”
He smiled and put his hand over his heart.
“I love you too,” she told him, her voice thick.
She glanced at Dax, who was already up and out of his chair, on his way to the door.
“I’ll walk you out,” he said.
She nodded. She knew he’d want to know what their plans were for later. That wasn’t what their conversation was going to be about, however.
Jane was not excited about the goats. Or the llamas.
He wasn’t sure what was going on, but Dax had to figure it out. It was driving him nuts.
He’d planned to surprise her on Saturday, not just with farm animals, but with his whole plan for staying in Appleby long term and really, truly making a difference. Doing something important. Something meaningful. Something that would impact her family directly. Something he was really excited about and feeling great about.
He was going to make her father’s life at Sunny Orchard better, dammit. Lots of other people's too. He actually felt a strange tugging in his gut that told him this was where he wanted and needed to be, what he needed to be doing, that was bigger than Jack. But it was pretty fucking awesome that he got to directly make things better for one of the most important people in Jane’s life.
Or so he’d thought.
Until she’d walked in and looked like she’d just sucked on a lemon when they’d told her about the goats.
They didn’t talk as they walked down the hall, through the lobby, out the doors, and across the parking lots. They didn’t touch either.
Dax was wound tight and feeling annoyed before they even got to her car.
More specifically, he was feeling something familiar. Something he fucking hated.
He was feeling the way he felt when he’d just told his father about something new he’d done and was waiting for his father’s reaction.
And knowing it would be disapproving.
“What the hell is going on?” he asked before she could say anything.
She sighed and turned to face him. “You bought the nursing home.”
“I did.” He felt defensive. He hated that.
“That’s a little… much.”
Much. It was a little much? “Have you met me?” he asked.
She actually snorted. “Yeah. That’s fair.”
“Why is this bad?” he pressed. He just wanted to get to whatever was the problem here. He realized he was projecting some here. But he was definitely getting the same vibe from Jane that he got from his father when he’d done something big and unexpected that his dad didn’t quite understand. Or trust.
Jane took a deep breath. She did not rush to insist that it wasn’t bad. Dax’s gut clenched.
“You are making my dad really excited about this,” she said.
Dax nodded.
“You’re getting him involved. Getting him invested.”
“Right.”
“In something you just thought up a few days ago.”
Dax clenched his jaw.
She cocked her head. “I assume anyway? Considering you set foot inside a nursing home for the first time ever last week? I assume this stuff about getting nursing home residents involved in farming and remodeling facilities into smaller living communities is new to you?”
“It is,” Dax admitted.
“So it’s nothing you’ve ever done before. Nothing you have any experience in.”
“No,” he said tightly.
She nodded. “I’m concerned, is all.”
“About?”
“It not working out.”
“Why wouldn’t it work out? It’s worked out in other places. We have no barriers to making it work here.”
It looked to him like perhaps Jane was clenching her jaw a little as well. “How long did those other places work on the farm idea before it was successful?”
He frowned. “I don’t know. How long would it take? You get the animals and plants, and you take the residents out there and have them take care of it all. That doesn’t seem like a months-long endeavor.”
Jane took a deep breath. “They need a little more than just ‘taking them out there,’ don’t you think? They need assistance with things like handling tools safely and lifting and carrying things like buckets and feed bags. What if they can’t manage navigating the uneven barnyard with their wheelchairs and walkers and canes? What if they can’t properly latch the gates and the animals get out?”
He frowned at her. His chest was tight. In part because she was right. Those things were all considerations. But also because she was so focused on all the things that could go wrong. Why couldn’t she see the good he was trying to do here? “Why are you focusing on the negatives? What about the sense of accomplishment they’ll feel? The physical activity they’ll be getting?”
“Because you have to think of those things!” she exclaimed. “If you’re in charge here, you are responsible for their safety and well-being!”
“That’s what I’m trying to do here! I want to improve their well-being!”
She swallowed. “I believe your intentions are good. I believe your intentions are always good. But you go from wanting to make a guy smile to… llamas! It’s one thing if you’re just a friend of one of the residents and you want to take him out to do some new things. But you’re in charge here. You have to think about things like how to safely implement these things. You have to think beyond getting some goats and tomato plants!” Her cheeks were pink and her eyes bright, and her voice had risen as she’d been talking. “And you shouldn’t be getting their hopes up about things. You shouldn’t be promising my dad things you might not be able to do!”
Dax scowled at her and stepped closer. “I will do this. I told Jack I’d do this and I will.”
She crossed her arms, and Dax wondered if it was a subconscious move to keep him from getting too close. “Fine. Maybe you will succeed in taking them out to see goats and llamas a few times.”
“It’s more than that.” It was a lot more than that and he wanted her to know all about it. He wanted her to believe in what the program could do. He wanted her to be excited about it. But she had to be willing to listen to the possibilities. “This program has already shown great success in other places, Jane. And with the right people on board, we could go past what’s already been done. Who knows what kinds of outcomes we could have? We could really study the psychological effects, the physical effects, even the effects on the community.”
“This is one little nursing home in one little town in Iowa,” she said. “It’s hardly a place where cutting-edge research happens.”
“The small-town setting is one of the best things we have going,” he argued. “It will make it even easier to tap into resources and get people involved and to measure the effects of our residents continuing to be a true part of the community. Too often nursing home residents get forgotten, but if the farm initiative works at getting them out and working at something they love, there are other opportunities we could explore.”
“You will need so much funding and staffing and so many permissions and—”
“We can deal with all that,” he cut in.
“Doing this will take time.”
“I’ve got time.”
“Do you?” She lifted her chin. “You have time to hang out in this little town that has one bar and a nonexistent gaming conference scene?”
Wow, she was really putting up every possible obstacle. “I’ll make a gaming conference scene if I need one.”
“Right. There’s never been anythin
g that you couldn’t make happen if you wanted it,” she said, the sarcasm thick.
“There hasn’t,” he told her honestly. Her doubts were starting to piss him off.
“Fine. So you’ll have a gaming conference here.” She rolled her eyes though. “And you’ll take my dad out to see the goats a couple of times a week, and you’ll pay to remodel the nursing home. And then what?”
“Then I’ll figure out what else needs to be done,” he said stubbornly. Dammit, the “see the goats” thing was starting to really grate. It was more than that.
She threw up her hands. “This isn’t a game, Dax!”
He felt that like a punch to the chest. “I know.”
“These aren’t snack cakes that can get a little squished in the packaging or that can come out a little misshapen and get sold for half price in the warehouse,” she went on. “These are people. This is their home. And their health.”
“I know that,” he said, his voice gruffer now. This was a much bigger deal than anything he’d done before. He got that. He really did. That’s why he wanted it.
Dammit, he wanted her to believe in him. More, he wanted her to see that he could make things better for her. That he could come into her life and improve absolutely everything. Jane was independent and confident and knew who she was and what she wanted. She didn’t need him. But he wanted her to want him and to see that maybe she could live without him, but that living with him was better. Happier. More fun. Easier. Something.
Looking at her looking at him like he was nuts and screwing everything up, Dax realized the driving force behind all this was the same thing it had always been for him—he wanted to make life happier for the people around him. But now it was so much bigger. So much more important.
So much worse if he failed.
He loved her. He wanted her to want him in lifelong terms. Not for a meet-up at the bar for pizza or for hot weekend getaways in swanky hotels or for silly Saturday afternoons at dessert tastings. He wanted all of it. The hard stuff too. The stuff with the factory. The stuff with her sister. The stuff with her dad.
He’d only dabbled in it so far. He’d improved it all. A little. Temporarily.
But what Jack had said at the bridal fair was true—things were going to get harder ahead. And Dax wanted to be there for that. To make it better for Jane somehow. He didn’t know what that would look like. Or even if he’d really be able to pull it off. But he was ready to do more than buy Ping-Pong tables and sweets. He wanted to do something real, something that would matter.
But what had he done upon buying the nursing home?
He’d bought a Ping-Pong table, and he had a jar of gummy bears on his desk here too.
She thought this, the first really big, serious thing he’d maybe ever done, was a lark. A whim. Something he’d just jumped into.
And she was right.
He’d read about it and the next day started researching the use of animals in eldercare. And goats. He’d been thrilled to learn about the alpaca farm outside of town, and he’d driven there immediately to meet the guys who ran it.
“You don’t think I’ll follow through on this?” he finally asked her.
She took a deep breath. “I know you care about my dad, and I appreciate you trying and getting him smiling and into something that’s got him out of his room and looking forward. But that’s what scares me. I know you’re into giving people little escapes from real life and that’s amazing. I’m a big fan actually. But I don’t think my dad thinks this will be temporary. And I just don’t know how serious this really is for you.”
Now Dax felt like the punch had landed in his gut.
Right. She was a fan of his temporary escapes from the real world. She understood why those were important. She’d finally opened up and let him do that for her. And that was what she thought he was good for.
“So I need to stick with my strengths—fun breaks, recess, gummy bears.”
She looked sad. “A week ago you owned a snack cake company.” She shrugged. “You went in with these big plans, but instead of implementing any of them, you brought in TVs and cappuccinos. And then you gave it all up for sex.”
Ouch. When she put it like that, he sounded like a real asshole. “I passed those plans on to the others though. Piper is working with Whitney and Aiden on a lot of it.”
Jane nodded. “That’s great. But do you think Piper and Aiden and Whitney will come over here and take things over when you get bored?”
Ouch, again.
But he hadn’t gotten bored at Hot Cakes. Or given it all up for sex.
He’d fallen in love.
He just hadn’t realized it at the time.
He needed to show her. He needed to stick with this. He needed to put in the time and the work and prove to her that he was in this for the long haul.
He could do that. Probably.
He wasn’t good at being patient. He wasn’t good at not getting what he wanted right when he wanted it—and he wanted her right now—but he could put in this work.
“And now I own a nursing home,” he said.
She nodded. “All of a sudden.”
He suddenly owned a nursing home. Which she, and everyone, had every reason to think he’d give up as soon as something more fun came along. It looked like he was just fucking around. As usual.
“Right. All of a sudden. Because that’s how I do things.”
She sighed. “You’re a good guy, Dax.”
“Who’s a ton of fun,” he added.
She nodded.
He reached for her car door and pulled it open. She looked at it then back at him, finally swallowing and sliding in behind the wheel.
He thought about just shutting it. Letting her drive off. Letting her believe what she was going to believe until he could prove otherwise.
But at the last second, he gripped the car door, sucked in a deep breath, and crouched next to her seat.
He needed to tell her this. At least once.
In case he couldn’t pull this off.
In case he couldn’t actually do something that wasn’t temporary and just a good time.
“I’m also a guy who’s in love with you.”
Jane opened her mouth. Closed her mouth. Frowned. Then opened it again. “What?”
“I’m in love with you. But I’ve never been in love before, and my default mode is over the top, and you’re not into gummy bears or Ping-Pong, so I bought a nursing home.”
“You’re in love with me?”
“Yeah.”
“Are you sure?”
He laughed, but his chest and gut still hurt. He nodded. “Yeah. I’m sure.”
“Wow.” She was just staring at him.
“So yeah.” There really wasn’t anything else to say. He needed to figure out what he was going to do with Sunny Orchard. How to make Jane happy. How to be the one who made her happy. More than temporarily.
He started to stretch to his feet, but partway up he leaned in and kissed the top of her head.
Then he turned and headed back into the nursing home.
She didn’t stop him. Or follow him back in.
14
Most people didn’t believe you could work up a sweat playing Ping-Pong.
That’s because most people played Ping-Pong for fun.
Not manically as a way of working off pent-up frustration and self-loathing.
Okay, loathing was strong. He didn’t loathe himself. But he was disgusted with himself, and adding a new level to Warriors, including hacking more appendages off more monsters, hadn’t helped. Nor had running—he did loathe running. Nor had visiting an alpaca farm.
Not that visiting an alpaca farm was supposed to help work off any kind of aggression, but he’d expected it to calm him. To make him happy. And it had.
It had also made him even more certain that he wanted to take the Sunny Orchard residents to visit the alpacas on a regular basis. He wanted to go with them too. He wanted to see them interacting with the
animals. He wanted to see the cognitive—yes, he’d learned that word from his recent reading—and physical changes occur. And yeah, he wanted to play with the alpacas too.
That’s where it all got mixed up with his self-disgust.
Why couldn’t he just let it go? Why couldn’t he just recognize that the best thing for everyone would be for someone else to be the administrator at Sunny Orchard and he could just own the place?
Over the past two days, as he’d texted and called Jane with no return messages or calls, he’d been trying to convince himself to hire someone else to be in charge of… well, everything. Someone else to do the programming and implement the new ideas. Someone with experience in the field. Someone who had contacts with other people in the field.
His argument with himself went something like this—“Bring in someone who’s worked in eldercare for years.”
“But if they’ve worked in it for years, maybe they’re not the right person for new ideas.”
“But they know better than you do what kind of outcomes to expect.”
“But don’t we want to expect more than what everyone’s used to?”
“What if you’re expecting too much?”
“If you shoot for the moon, even if you miss, you’ll land among the stars.”
“You read that on an inspirational poster when you were fifteen.”
“Still counts.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
“You’re an asshole.”
“Yeah, well you still know nothing about running a nursing home.”
Which was true.
Dax whacked the little white ball harder. It bounced back at him as if intent on revenge for the pummeling. He hit it again. And again. And again. It wasn’t really helping his frustration, but it did prove he wasn’t drunk enough to have impaired his hand-eye coordination. At least there was that.
Also, he couldn’t get fired for drinking at work. Because he didn’t work at Hot Cakes anymore.
“Oh my God, you’re even weird when you’re depressed?” Grant asked from the Hot Cakes break room doorway.
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