Roots and Wings (City Limits #1)(6)

I slowed a little as I rode past the old Robinson house. We lived on the same road, but we were out of town about a mile and a half and they were the first house on the edge of the city limits. I drove past it nothing short of twice each day.

I saw the boxes he’d unloaded to get his house keys on the driveway, stacked neatly against the garage door. The whole bungalow needed a new coat of paint, and maybe even a new porch. As far back as I could remember, it had always been that color and it had never been remodeled, only maintained—if you could call it that. There were dowels missing from the railing on the porch and the screen door on the side was never shut and latched all the way. Sometimes it would swing in the wind if the weather was bad. It needed a new roof, too.

I’d been in it a few times as a child, and I was sure the inside was just as dated and neglected. It was nice that someone was going to fix it up.

I smiled to myself and my boot pushed down on the gas pedal, speeding up on my way out of town.

I didn’t know Vaughn, but anyone who would move to Wynne—from anywhere—and fix up one of its oldest houses, and take over for a dentist who’d been a lifelong resident … well, he had to be pretty ambitious. And sadly, that’s one thing our little town lacked.

Ambition.

I pulled into our shed, where I normally parked, and killed the engine. It was only a little after eight, but I knew if I started on the lures I’d be up all night. And I had to get those invoices straightened out in the morning.

So instead, I grabbed a beer from the old fridge next to my workbench, let the tailgate down on my truck, and sat there in the dark, thinking about the new guy and watching the stars.





I’d had the day from hell. I take that back, I’d had the month from hell.

My ex-girlfriend Rachelle, the woman I’d been with for nearly two years, left me about a month before we were moving to Wynne to start our life together. Or what I thought was going to be our life together.

Turned out the old saying, easy come, easy go, rang true for us.

Therefore, all of the paperwork for the closing of the house had to be re-filed, which caused the closing date to be pushed back and only left me with about a week to work on the house before I was supposed to begin at the office.

I didn’t mind going back to work. I loved what I did.

What I hated was the upheaval of it all. Having my things in boxes. Having a mile-long list of things that needed completing.

Mostly, I hated the new idea of doing it all alone. Of course I was capable, a thirty-one-year-old man who’d accomplished many goals.

What it boiled down to was I was one of those guys who was ready for a partner. I wanted a family, and I wanted a community like the one I’d visited when I was younger.

Besides, I liked the idea of taking a leap of faith with someone. To me, it was an adventure.

I’d always lived in bigger cities, but I never actually knew anyone. Never had a real connection, or a sense of belonging to a community. In Cleveland, Rachelle and I got along fine, but I looked at the move as an opportunity to get closer.

To build something together.

To finally put down some roots somewhere where children grew up the way I’d always wanted to.

It wasn’t like I was destitute. Things would work out. I knew that. I just had to think of it as part of the ride, and if the people in Wynne were anything like the woman I’d met at the diner, offering half her meal to me without expecting anything in return, I was in the right place.

Some days I thought I missed Rachelle, then I’d think maybe it was just the idea of her. Other days, the harder days like today, I was angry I’d tricked myself into believing someone else might actually want what I did.

When I pulled up at the house, and saw the mess I’d left, out in the open for anyone to take, I wanted to give up for the night and just go to bed.

Then I remembered the furniture we’d picked out and paid for wasn’t there yet. I’d had to reschedule the delivery, and it still wouldn’t be there for a few more days.

I opened the garage and unloaded the rest of the trailer, sorting boxes by room. After I had every piece out and organized to move into the house as I’d need them, I opened the back hatch to my SUV, pulled out my sleeping bag and the duffel I’d packed for myself, and went inside.

Tomorrow would be a better day. It had to be.




I woke up early after dreaming about the wavy haired girl from the restaurant. It was one of those dreams I couldn’t really remember, but I was sure I’d looked at her face all night. Remarkably, I woke up feeling pretty good about the day.

I’d moved all of my things across part of the country by myself.

I had a new house.

A new job.

And it was a new day.

I wasn’t going to start my new life in Wynne with a chip on my shoulder. It didn’t feel right unpacking all of the last month’s baggage from Cleveland here. So I chose to let it go the best I could.

I showered in my empty upstairs bathroom, put on the clothes I’d packed, and headed to the garage in search of my coffee maker.

All I needed was water and power, and even if I didn’t have much more than that in the house, I did have those.

I could drink it black.

My coffee mug, a few coffee pods, and the maker found, I made my first cup of coffee in my new home and listened to a light rain shower pass over through the screen door.