Page 38 of Love You Already

Back in the living room, it looks like Ikea and Target had a party for us. There are several bags full of everything from sheets and pillows to extra supplies for when people visit. Shopping with Rose was a lesson on all her favorite things. I catalogued as much as I could along the way, so I'd know just what to get her when the time came for me to buy her a gift.

Another thing we did as we shopped earlier was plan out how things would look. She told me all about how she wants to design the house. Looking around the house now, I know exactly what needs to go where. I remember every word she said, and I can't think of a better way to spend my time while she sleeps than to help make her vision come true.

I begin with the easier task of separating the new stuff by room. Once I have my quadrants marked off, I take to opening the boxes as quietly as possible and unloading them. Bit by bit, I'm able to break down the cardboard maze she's been living in. Some of the stuff is obvious as to where it would go, and other things are a little less so. Thankfully, she was thorough about what each and every item she bought would be used for.

When I asked why she was particular about things, she scowled. I explained then that I didn't know too many people who paid attention to the details like that. Once she understood I wasn't trying to insult her, she answered me with the most unexpected answer.

“When you're a bull rider, especially a female one, you have to be on your toes for every little thing that could go wrong. Every variable, everything that could change the trajectory of your ride has to be considered. I had systems in place for each ride. People would say superstitions or habits. For me, it was more about ensuring my safety and knowing I'd get to come back home the next time I had a break.”

Those systems of hers apply to everything though. Not just her previous career. I can see it in the way she runs and talks about Sips. It's also in the way she deals with relationships — from her family all the way to me. My wife prefers to have a box for everything to fit into.

Sadly, for her, my box is more like a duffle bag and the inside is full of funky athletic gear the team forgot to send off to the equipment manager.

I spend the next couple of hours going through the house. I empty boxes, organize things how she described, then move trash onto the porch, and repeat the process. The movements are repetitive enough that I start to sink into a somewhat tranquil state. I don't have to think about what I'm doing. It's all second nature.

When I reach for the next box sometime around the three-hour mark, I realize there's not one there. I blink twice and then look around the living room. There are no boxes here at all. It's empty. The room is transformed.

I'd been rather focused on my process. I didn't notice I was clearing it all away. Looking out the front window, I can see the stack of broken-down cardboard out there, along with the bags of trash I've acquired. Inside, there's a contentedness that feels homey. I feel welcome here. Like I could wake up, make a cup of coffee, and then curl up on the couch with Rose as we wait for the day to start.

I want that. I want it bad enough that my insides get all twisted up when I question whether or not it's real, whether or not it's possible.

“Lachlan,” a soft voice whispers behind me.

Turning, I spot Rose in an oversized t-shirt and nothing else. Her sleepy gaze takes in the room slowly, like she's Alice and this is suddenly wonderland.

“What did you do?”

I stuff my hands into my pockets, unsure all of a sudden. “You were tired, and I was restless. It was easy after you told me everything earlier. I just had to get it all done.”

She nods as she keeps bouncing her eyes from place to place. “You remembered all of that?”

“Of course, I did,” I say vehemently. “It was important to you. Why wouldn't I?”

“Because most men wouldn't. They'd ignore the rambling until they could get a moment of peace. They sure as hell wouldn't memorize it all and then take care of it while the woman in their life slept.” Her words come out in a passionate rush as she tugs on the hem of her shirt.

With a calm I didn't know I could possess, I approach gradually. I don't want to spook her and right now she's about two seconds away from telling me I'm a creep and making me leave. We can't have any of that though.

“I'm not like most men. For one, I appreciate others and want to take care of them when given the chance. I took today as one of those chances. Another thing, you're my wife. Whether you claim the title or not, it's there. And as your spouse, the things you find important will always be important to me. I couldn't bear the idea of you living out of boxes this whole time. I know what that life is like and you, my dear Ace, deserve better than that.”

“You know what it's like? Did you not unpack in Houston?” she questions after latching onto that one bullet point.

I shake my head. “I did unpack there, but it took weeks for me to do so with the training schedule I had. And even here in Firefly Cove, I've only got a couple of bags worth of stuff. It was easier than packing up my condo, yet at the same time, I'm stuck living out of those duffles until summer is over.”

A shadow moves across her features at the mention of summer being over. Part of me hopes it's because she'd much rather I stay here to be with her. While it wouldn't be a viable option, it would be nice to know she wants me as much as I want her.

“How is it possible you're living out of bags here? I'm sorry to get hung up on the idea, but it doesn't make sense.”

“Verle rented me the place on Fern Avenue that came fully furnished. I had no clue the furnishings were from the 1800s, but it's a place to sleep and rest from the hustle of the city. I'll take it for now,” I admit as I reach out to wrap her in my arms.

Rose willingly leans into me, her head falling to my chest. “You're too good to me. I'm sorry I passed out, and you did all this alone. And I'm sorry you're stuck in a house like that.”

I squeeze her tighter to me. “No need for apologies. I like taking care of you. I enjoyed unpacking. I have a lot of energy to burn off each day, which is part of why I've been driving out here to help at the ranch. I'd bought workout equipment, but this is working just as well. Makes sense to have some company while I get the exercise in.”

“That reminds me, why do you keep coming to the ranch? Honest answer. I don't want the exercise excuse.” She tilts her head back to look me in the eye.

That move right there breaks the last of my resolve. I hadn't planned to tell her just yet, but maybe she needs to hear it.

“I come to the ranch for you. To be close to you. To hear about you. To feel like you're near. That's all I want these days, Rose. Not to play hockey with my team. Not to go after the cup, the goal I've had since I was old enough to understand. My days now revolve around getting a glimpse of you, of hearing your name, of maybe, just maybe, getting to be in your orbit.”