“They love it,” Logan says, wrapping an arm around me.
“All kids think rabbits are fascinating,” I say.
“Maybe, but you are the one who made that happen.” He kisses me softly on the cheek and we step out of the barn, the sun high in the sky. He takes my hand. “Come on,” he says and I follow. I would follow that man anywhere.
He leads me to our oak tree, and I sit on the wooden seat. Nostalgia presses hard against my heart and tears fill my eyes.
“Don’t cry, baby,” he says.
“They’re happy tears,” I promise. And they are. All of this, this amazing life is full of so much sunshine it doesn’t seem fair.
He pulls the ropes back, propelling me into the air and I laugh, turning my head to catch sight of Logan.
“I love you,” he says.
I laugh. “You just love my biscuit.”
“I do love your biscuit,” he teases, stilling the swing, and moving in front of me. Between my legs. He leans down and kisses me. “Butter love you more.”