by Lauren Helms
"I'm so freaking ready. Let's do this." I motion for him to drive. He chuckles in return and pulls out of the dusty, quiet motel parking lot.
A little less than five hours later, we pass the "Welcome to Golden Springs" sign.
I take a deep breath, trying to control the mix of excitement and nervousness coursing through my veins. Ryker's GPS feeds us directions in a female Scottish accent. I changed the accent early in the drive yesterday to remind me of one of my favorite historical romance heroes, but Ryker pitched a fit, and we compromised on the female voice.
The accent was still sexy.
We drive to the tiny town. I study the strip of fast-food chains and car dealerships and tiny strip malls as we roll through. When we carefully make our way through the town square, there are remnants of some kind of event still happening on the courthouse lawns. Clothing, boutiques, coffee shops, sit-down restaurants, and specialty stores litter the square. Without even stepping foot in the town, I can tell by the look, feel, and the smiling people milling about, that I'd love this town. It's small but inviting. Being a girl who grew up not being able to wander around town and meet neighbors and other people in town, this place warms my heart.
Oh, what would it have been like to grow up in Golden Springs?
The navigation on Ryker's phone takes us past the downtown area. No more than ten minutes later, we pull onto an old dirt road about a quarter-mile long.
Turns out, it’s a driveway with a beautiful ranch-style home at the end. The yard is large and from the fresh-cut grass smell coming from the open windows of the car, recently mowed.
On the other side of the driveway, farther back on the land, is a barn and stables.
"Oh, my God. They have horses." I nearly lean out of the window, drawn to the majestic animals. I've never seen a horse in real life, and I'd love to ride one if given a chance.
Ryker chuckles next to me. "Let me guess, bucket list?"
"Top twenty for sure."
He pulls up to a clearly marked parking area, room enough for four or five cars, and he shuts off the car. He turns to me, and I look at him, not bothering to mask my emotions.
"You ready for this, Blondie?" Concern pours from his body, and he visibly lets most of it go when I nod furiously.
"Yes, I'm ready. Thank you so much for this, Ryker." I lean in and kiss his cheek.
Just then, the door creaks. I jerk my attention to the front porch. The thin wooden door bounces closed behind the couple that just came out.
Ryker and I get out of the car, and I have to stop myself from running to them. Ryker must feel it too. As soon as I'm by his side, he grabs my hand. I smile, giving him a silent thank you with my eyes. He winks.
As we approach, Fred and Anna Corners descend the two steps from the porch. Fred is tall and has a strong build. He's got thick, bushy, brown eyebrows, but his nose reminds me of my own. Anna, though, my steps falter. She's tiny, like me, and her green eyes are full of tears, but it doesn't dull the brightness of the color. Her face, as I get closer, has the same smattering of freckles, paired with slight wrinkles and laugh lines. She's stunning. Her hair is the same yellowish blonde as mine, and even though it's cut to her chin, it's thick and has the same natural wave.
Coming to a stop only feet from her, we take each other in. It's as if I'm looking at myself in a mirror.
Her smile is warm, tears falling down her cheeks. Neither of us can speak. Ryker comes to the rescue.
"Mr. and Mrs. Corners? I'm Ryker Stone, and this is Zella Raps."
It's clear we've found my parents, we've arrived at the correct place, but we all seem to appreciate the introduction, anyway.
I offer a slightly hesitant smile, tears threatening to flow, but still, no words. Fred clears his throat and offers his hand to Ryker. Anna and I continue to stare, taking each other in.
"It's nice to meet you both. Zella, we've been waiting a very long time to meet you." His voice is deep and full of emotion.
I pry my eyes away from Anna and smile up at him. A lone tear runs down his cheek; he makes no move to wipe it away. I look back down at my... at Anna. She can't seem to stand still in this moment of intense emotional joy.
"My baby," she whispers and engulfs me in a hug.
My arms tighten around her, memorizing everything about this embrace. Then my father is there, towering over us, pulling us both into him.
Moments later, my mother pulls away, holding my face between her hands. "I've thought of you every day for nearly twenty-one years. My dream of holding you in my arms has finally come true. I can't believe you are finally here."
Guilt slams into my heart. "I'm so sorry. I didn't know. I would have fought to find you sooner… I didn't know."
"Oh, baby girl, no, no. Don't you for one minute be sorry for any of this." She hugs me again.
Fred chuckles beside us. "Let's take this inside, get some tea, and some of those cookies you made, Anna."
She pulls away and nods her agreement. Looping her arm through mine, she leads us into the house. As my feet hit the porch step, I look over my shoulder in search of Ryker. That had to have been awkward for him.
But he's there, not far behind me, and when I glance over my shoulder, he grins and winks at me.
If it weren't for the emotional overload of meeting my birth parents, I would have swooned right there on the front step.
We've been sitting around the wooden farmhouse table drinking lemonade and eating cookies. Their house is all wood floors and clean, but there is an outdoorsy smell within the walls. The layout is roomy and comfortable. Antiques and older looking furniture outnumber newer and fancy stuff, but I catch Ryker admiring the big-screen television, brown leather couch, and recliner set in the living room, which can be seen from the kitchen table.
After sharing basic information, they know all about my hobbies and school. I've told them about Cameron and about the karaoke at the biker bar. In turn, I've learned Fred is a soil and water conservationist, and Anna is an artist. She specializes in ceramics. My jaw nearly hit the floor when I found that out. Our faces nearly identical when I told her I was an art major.
There is a quiet lull in the conversation, the first since we sat down over an hour ago. I want to ask more personal questions—ones that might be difficult for them to answer—but I don't want to ruin the reunion.
Ryker, who's sitting next to me with his arm slung over my chair, leans into me. "We are here for a reason, Blondie. Don't hold back."
I gaze up from my lemonade into his supportive smile. I know they heard him, he wasn't all that quiet, but I refuse to be embarrassed. I hear a deep sigh from across the table, and my eyes snap up to Fred.
"He's right. Please ask us whatever you want. We will tell you everything you want to know." Fred stands from his chair, moves to the center island in the kitchen, and leans against it.
Anna’s expression has turned sad, yet she nods, urging me to ask.
"Why?" My voice is barely above a whisper. Ryker adjusts himself before one of his warm hands lands on my leg, above my knee, and squeezes.
Fred sets down his glass behind him and crosses his arms. "We were both still in high school when we found out we were pregnant. Anna, just seventeen. Me, eighteen and getting ready to graduate. We'd been dating for a while, and well, we got careless. When we found out, we knew we wanted to stay together, and we wanted to raise the baby, but our parents had different ideas. They were not happy."
"My parents told me they were not ready to be grandparents, and we were not ready to be parents," Anna adds.
"I had a scholarship and was heading to college. Anna still had a year left of high school so, she and the baby—you—wouldn't have been able to come with me. With Anna's parents refusing to help, I couldn't stand to leave. My parents were upset, but when they found out I was considering transferring to a local college, they were livid. A youth pastor at Anna's church helped us think through all our options. Eventually, adoption seemed like our only option."
Fred looks forlornly at the floor.
"It broke my heart, giving you up, Zella, but we wanted what was best for you. Two teenage parents, without any support, struggling through high school and college, would have been so hard. That's not the life we wanted for you." Anna sniffs.
I nod in understanding. I can't fault them for putting the needs of their child above their wants.
"I do understand. I do appreciate that; I didn't have a bad childhood."
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Ryker make a face. I fight back a glare and ignore him.
Hesitantly, Fred asks, "But you didn't have a great one?"
"No, it's not that. My mother loved and cared for me greatly. Life was never hard, but she was very protective." I fidget in my seat.
"She pretty much kept Blondie here under lock and key. No friends, no public school, no normal every day experiences that most teens get to have. She's being polite right now." This time I do glare at Ryker. He only chuckles.
"I wish I would have known about you. I would have liked to of known the truth." I want to be completely honest with them. I'm over secrets and lies.
"We had a semi-closed adoption. While we never met your mother, we were given her name. The agreement was that we were not allowed to reach out unless she chose to contact us. She sent us photos for a couple years, but when you were five, we stopped hearing from her."
I chew the inside of my cheek, thinking about everything I've just learned.
After a few moments, Anna pushes her chair out and stands. "Would you like to see my workshop, Zella?"
"Absolutely." I smile as I stand.
"Why don't you help me prepare the steak for dinner, Ryker?" Fred says, granting Anna and me some time alone. Though Fred might be a stranger, he is technically my father, and I'm about to willingly leave him alone with the guy I'd like to call my boyfriend.
Ryker clears his throat, clearly having the same realization I just had. "Yes, sir." He nods and swallows.
I bite back a smile and follow Anna through the house to the back, where there is a large room, partly covered in windows. The studio, which resembles a sunroom, is filled with everything an artist would need. There are a few easels and a full wall of shelving with art supplies. A table near the middle of the room is clearly an organized mess, with papers and several sketch pads lying about.
"I do my painting and planning in here." She points to a door on the side of the room. "That leads out to my pottery wheel and kiln."
I wander around the room, running my fingers along the plains of the table and supplies. "This is an amazing workspace. I love it."
She smiles, looking around. "This was an add-on we had done a couple years after we moved here. What is your specialty?" she asks from the doorway.
"I love to draw. Pottery is fun, but I'm not amazing at it." I giggle and remember the vase I made in my ceramics class last semester.
While taking in everything about the room, I notice a painting on one of the windowless walls. It's a willowy sunflower, and I gasp when I realize why it looks so familiar.
"What?" Anna's alarmed voice sounds from behind me now.
I point to the painting. "Where did you get that?"
"I drew that. It's one of my favorites." She doesn't say anything else.
My eyes dart around the room. "I've seen this before," I tell her. I don't mention that I drew a similar version.
Hope shines through her eyes. "We broke the rules a little when it came to contacting you. Once we had your address, we sent you a birthday card every year. I like making my cards. For a while, all my cards had this flower on it. We never knew if you got them, but since they never came back to us in the mail, we at least assumed that they were delivered."
The pain of knowing they tried to reach out makes my heart hurt. I don't tell her the whole truth: I found a card once—just the front of the card with the flower design—and it has always stuck with me. I no longer want to dwell on secrets.
"Well, I love it," I say softly.
Her smile is kind when she puts her arms around me. "Let's check out the workshop outside, then I'll take you to meet the horses. We have two. Have you ever ridden a horse?"
14
Ryker
Sitting at the big wrought iron patio table, I'm lost in the moment while I watch Zella toast marshmallows with her mom. The sun sets, and darkness is quickly approaching. Dinner was easy. Truthfully, everything has been pretty easy since we arrived yesterday afternoon. Zella is on cloud nine, and I can't say I blame her. Anna and Fred are amazing people, who harbor so much love for a daughter they never knew.
They seem to all fit seamlessly together. At the risk of sounding like a tool, it makes my heart pound with a little more gusto. I made this happen. I won't take the credit for this meeting, but I won't deny that without me and my computer skills, this wouldn't have happened.
Zella pulls a marshmallow out of the fire and blows on it furiously then giggles at something Anna says in response to Zella's fifth burnt marshmallow.
I smile at the scene. Anna and Zella could pass as twins if it weren't for the fact that Anna doesn't hide her age. Know what they say, if you want to know what your girl will look like when she's older, just check out her mom. Not that Zella is my girl, but if she were, I definitely have something to look forward to.
And I totally just checked out her mom.
Chuckling, I bring the glass of iced tea to my lips and swallow it down. It's sweet tea, and I'm not a fan of it, but I'm going to drink what is offered.
I hear the screen door creak behind me, and Fred lumbers out. He stands next to me, laughing at the sight of them burning more marshmallows.
"I'm wondering if they'll run out of marshmallows before they get a decently toasted one," he muses. "Here, thought you might like this." He places a beer bottle in front of me, and I look up and tell him thanks.
He cups my shoulder, looks down at me as a fatherly expression crosses his face. "Thank you, Ryker. Thank you for finding us. We all needed this. She's lucky to have you." He moves to the seat next to mine and continues to stare out at them.
"I'd do anything to make Zella happy. This is what she wanted," I tell him honestly.
He nods.
I take a swig of my beer, glad to be drinking something other than the tea.
"Look! I did it, finally! Two perfectly toasted marshmallows!" Zella says, walking toward the patio.
"Nice." I laugh while Fred congratulates her.
"I brought you one." She carefully pulls the first marshmallow off and hands it to me, then the second. She studies her work with a smirk, then shoves the whole thing in her mouth. She's fucking adorable. I pop mine in my mouth and taste ash, but I don't complain.
She falls into the chair next to mine, Anna next to Fred. Easy conversation flows once again.
"Oh, my God! Are those fireflies?" Zella points out toward the backyard.
We follow her gaze.
Anna laughs as she speaks, "Yes, just wait. In about five minutes, you'll want to walk further out past where the porch light reaches and take it all in. There will be hundreds. While you're there, you should check out the stars. It's a clear night, so you'll see everything. Actually, let me get you a blanket." She jumps up and hurries inside.
"That sounds amazing." Zella sighs.
Soon after returning with a blanket, we walk into the darkness of the yard, alone. Anna and Fred head inside.
In the shadow, where the porch lights no longer reach, I lie out the blanket and sit down. Before she sits, Zella kicks off her flip flops. I grin to myself.
She's still, and just as I turn to look at her, she gasps. Immediately, I understand why.
Hundreds of fireflies creep up from the grass and float through the air—tiny flickers of light all across the yard and nearby field.
"It's breathtaking," she whispers.
I agree, but I'm not watching the light show anymore. My eyes are fixed on her. Her smile is a mile wide, and when she
grabs my hand, I pull my eyes away from her beautiful face and look at our intertwined fingers.
"Hold on to me, Ryker, so I don't float away on all the happiness I'm feeling right now."
I squeeze her hand. "I won't let you go, Blondie," I tell her. I see her smile, but she's still in awe of the fireflies surrounding us. I swat one away. I look up at the sky and see all the stars.
I lay back on the blanket and put my free hand up behind my head. I tug her down next to me.
Another gasp when she sees our new view. I have to admit, the stirring in my pants wishes she were gasping for other reasons.
We lie in silence for several moments. Finally, she speaks. "Thank you for making this happen. This is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me." She looks over at me.
"Anytime, Blondie." I wink. I expect her to laugh or shake her head, like she normally does when I use her nickname, but instead, I'm greeted with heat-filled eyes. Darkness surrounds us, except for the moonlight. I can barely make out her features, but I feel her desire. I'm surprised when she leans in and steals a kiss.
Her soft lips firmly land on mine for a quick moment before she starts to pull away, but I reach over and place my hand at the back of her head to pull her into me. I'm not ready to let her go just yet.
Moving my lips against hers, I swipe at her with my tongue. Her mouth opens, a welcoming invitation to deepen the kiss. Finally, a gasp of my doing falls from her mouth as I slide my tongue between her lips. I can still taste hints of marshmallow and think about how this is so much better than the actual one I had earlier.
Without breaking contact, I push up and lean over her, lying her flat on her back. My arm cradles her neck, and my fingers strum her soft hair. My other hand wanders down her body, eliciting more throaty moans from her. Then, unexpectedly, she throws her leg over my hip.
Fuck. She's so damn sexy. I hook my hand under her knee and yank her closer to me. We briefly break apart, and I take a moment to explore her jawline and neck. Her skin tastes like sun and happiness, and I could get lost in the taste for hours. I'll surely crave her from this point forward. My free hand slowly slides up the back of her shirt, feeling her bare skin beneath my palms. Her skin is cool to the touch, but there's a slight sheen of sweat since it's still eighty at this time of night.