“You must’ve spilled something on your shoe?” Kathryn asks.
“No, they’re brand new.” Slowly, I stoop down to pet Kevin.
“Kevin…” I look at Bradley. “As in, Kevin Bacon?”
He laughs and points at his mother. “I said the same thing. She swears that’s not why she chose the name.”
“He didn’t come to you with a name?”
“He did, but I changed it,” she says. “Sometimes it’s best when they’re coming from an abusive situation. A fresh start and all that.”
I nod and wonder what that would be like. A new name, a fresh start. I’m partway there already, answering to “Iz” or “Izzy” despite my mother’s fervent aversion to nicknames.
“He’s cute.” I study the pig, who’s blinking at me with surprisingly long lashes. He opens his mouth and offers a cheerful oink.
“He likes you,” Kathryn says. “He’s been pretty skittish since he came in last week.”
“That’s because he’s terrified of Charlie.”
“Charlie?” I bend down and pet Kevin again.
“Mom’s dog. Gentle as a newborn, but Kevin’s not a fan.”
“Probably had a bad experience with a dog in his other house,” Kathryn says. “I’m hoping to find a short-term, secondary foster. Someplace he can be inside would be ideal.”
“Inside, like—in a house?” I’ve never heard of such a thing.
“He’s been raised in a home all his life.” Kathryn frowns. “Folks wanted a miniature pig, something around thirty or forty pounds.”
While I don’t intend to test my theory by lifting him, Kevin appears to be much larger. Sixty, maybe seventy pounds? He isn’t huge, but definitely bigger than a mid-sized dog. “I didn’t know pigs could be that small.”
“They’re not supposed to be.” Bradley’s brow furrows. “It happens a lot. People buy potbellied pigs and try to keep them small by underfeeding them.”
Kathryn shakes her head. “Which is kind of like deciding you want your kid to stay the size of a six-year-old forever, so you starve him.”
“How horrible.” I shift to a two-handed scratch, one behind each ear. Kevin deserves it after that. He oinks with what I can only assume must be pleasure, his twisty little tail twitching rapidly. “May I feed him something?”
Kathryn smiles and points to a red bin beside the door. “There’s some cut-up acorn squash over there. The grocery store donates all their iffy produce to animal rescues.”
I hurry over and grab two thick slices, Kevin on my heels. He snorts and wags and tilts his snoot skyward, anticipating the treat. “Kevin, sit.”
Kevin sits obediently, grunting for good measure. Kathryn laughs. “Well I’ll be darned. I had no idea he could do that.”
“Izzy has the magic touch,” Bradley muses.
Heat tickles my cheeks as I fight to keep myself from thinking impure thoughts about touching. Bradley touching me or me touching Bradley or—
“Are you okay, dear?” Kathryn gives me a look of motherly concern. “You got a little bit flushed all of a sudden.”
“I’m fine, thank you.” I wonder if Bradley told her about my kidney transplant. I know health information’s protected in this country, but privacy falls by the wayside when you pass out at your sister’s wedding.
I hold out another piece of squash for Kevin, laughing when he stretches up to take it. He’s so dainty about it, gently plucking the treat from my fingers as his funny little pig tail twitches.
What if?
The thought bubbles up through my subconscious so suddenly that I’m not even sure what it means.
What if I stayed in America?
What if I got a pet pig?
What if Bradley Parker were my boyfriend?
None of those things could happen, not really. But that truth doesn’t stop me from wanting them. All of them, but especially the last one.
I glance at Bradley and see he’s watching me, blue eyes sweeping me from head to toe as though he likes what he sees. A rush of warmth floods my system, and I look away so Kathryn doesn’t ask me again if I’m feeling ill.
“What’s required to be a secondary foster?” I bite my lip. “You said short-term, right?”
I can’t believe I just uttered those words.
Crazier still, I can’t believe Kathryn doesn’t bat an eyelash. “You’d have to fill out an application,” she says. “There’s a background check and a home visit to make sure you have the right space. Do you own or rent your home?”
I glance at Bradley, which is silly. It’s not like he’s equipped to answer. “It’s complicated,” I admit. “I’m a partner at Ponderosa Resort, but the cabin where I’m staying belonged to my sister.”
I decide not to mention Bree offering at least a dozen times to sign it over to me. “It doesn’t make sense for me to hang on to it since Austin and I got married and moved out to his place,” she told me just last week. “You won’t let us give you the funds you’re legally entitled to as an heir. At least take the cabin you love so much.”
I do love it. I love the resort, I love my family, I love America.
I might even love Kevin the pig.
I could definitely love Bradley, which is a thought that creeps unbidden through my brain before I can stop it.
I swallow back all those wants because there’s no sense even going there. Not when I’m not the one deciding what I can and can’t have for the future.
My mother’s voice chimes in my brain, an echo of a phone call last week. “When are you coming home, Isabella? It’s time for you to stop fooling around and return to do your duty.”
I swallow hard and look at Kathryn. “Could I have an application, please?”
She smiles at me like I’ve answered a question right on a game show. “Absolutely.”
Bradley steps closer and touches my arm. It’s barely a graze, but my body lights up like he strung Christmas lights through my chest cavity. “Quite a big step,” he murmurs low enough I’m not sure his mother can hear. “If you’re not careful, people will start thinking you plan to stick around.”
The lights blink out one by one, fizzling into blackness. He’s right. I have no business deluding anyone into thinking I could stay here. Not Kathryn. Not Kevin. Definitely not Bradley.
Or maybe it’s me I’m kidding most of all. I’m letting hope cloud my judgment, and I should know better than that.
I swallow hard, hearing the soft thunder of Bradley’s words.
“If you’re not careful…”
I remind myself to be careful. To stop fooling myself with a future I can never have.
Chapter 4
Bradley
I drive Isabella home after the farm visit, hoping she’ll invite me in. Even a goodbye kiss in the truck would rock my world. I’ve spent all day thinking about it, wishing my mom had waited one more minute before joining us by the barn. Feeling Iz in my arms, her warmth against my chest as I kissed her…that was unreal. I’m positive she felt it, too.