Page 8 of Home Is Where You Are

“I’m not sure.”

Dang him for being so elusive.

Why couldn’t he just tell me so I could better prepare myself?

I didn’t see any vehicles aside from my dad’s truck and my mom’s SUV parked in front of the house. That meant nothing, though. There was more parking behind the house.

I took in the front of the farmhouse style home in front of me. Two stories, a wraparound porch that donned several rocking chairs, a welcome wreath with the Courtright Ranch symbol in the center of the greenery. Memories of my mom and me sitting on the porch gossiping and talking about plans of my future flooded my mind.

“Let’s go before they all flock out here,” I said with a shaky breath. Once I entered that house, the memories would return. The ones I’d tried to but failed to suppress over the years.

Reaching for the door handle, his hand touched mine and stopped me in my tracks.

I didn’t turn to face him. My emotions were on high alert with having to go inside as it was. Looking at him would cause me to break down. An option that I didn’t have right now.

“You don’t have to be nervous,” he whispered.

Where did the man with the chip on his shoulder go?

I was sure his words were meant to be reassuring, but they were anything but. I loved my parents and brothers. I’d missed them terribly while I was gone. They weren’t what I was afraid of.

The memories of everything I’d lost that fateful day were.

I pulled the metal handle that was cold to the touch and opened the door, stepping out onto the ground.

Turning back, I went to grab my bags, but Gentry had already grabbed my suitcase and backpack. Ever the gentleman.

He walked around the truck and came to my side. Standing in front of me, he looked at me like he had so much to say, yet he remained silent.

Those eyes. The green depths were my downfall, even now. He showed so much emotion within them.

“Come on,” he said as he touched the small of my back and guided me toward the door.

His touch sent chills throughout my entire body.

You can’t go there, Ainsleigh.

I must keep reminding myself of those five words. If I wasn’t careful, I’d get lost in him again.

With each step toward the porch, I readied myself to come face to face with the family I’d missed so much. Looking up, I took in the sight of the front porch where so many precious memories took place. Just above the doorframe, the wooden sign that we all touched before entering the house still hung strong. The wood now weathered, but the message still strong as the day it was carved. Each of the entryways to all our buildings and villas had a wooden sign with a Bible verse etched into the wood that was cut down from this ranch. The sign above our door read Joshua 24:15. As I took in the sign, the verse came to mind, “As for me and my house, we will serve the Lord.”

The door flew open just as we finished walking up the stairs, causing me to jump. I knew they wouldn’t wait much longer.

“My baby’s finally home,” my mom squealed and clapped as she looked at me from the doorway.

My mother didn’t look like she’d aged at all since I’d been gone. She still had a warm smile on her face and donned an apron I swore when I was little she slept in since she always had one on.

Walking up to her, I threw myself in the warmth of my mother’s arms and let the tears I knew would come fall.

“I missed you so much,” I said into her shoulder. I let the warmth of her embrace comfort and soothe me as best as I could. There was nothing better than a hug from my mother. I didn’t know if I’d ever be able to let her go. I took in a deep breath, and the smell of my mother’s perfume calmed my racing heart. That sweet smell of vanilla, she always smelled like a cupcake, and I loved it.

“I missed you too, baby. You’re not allowed to leave me ever again. I mean it,” she replied as she stepped back and placed her hands on my shoulders to look at me.

Now wasn’t the time to tell her that I wasn’t planning on staying. I’d let her enjoy seeing me again, and then I’d have to break her heart. I just hoped when the time came for that conversation, she’d understand. That they’d all understand that I just couldn’t stay here.

“You’ve lost weight. We’ll solve that quickly, though,” she said. That was just like my mother. She’d often thought a good meal, or a cupcake, could solve anyone’s problems.

I hadn’t, in fact, lost weight. Working out became my go-to when the past would catch up to me, which was often, and it was a way to distract my mind from the pain.