“When will he be here?” I asked.
“He said he has to wrap some things up, so he’s hoping a few weeks.”
I nodded, watching as she got back to rolling out the dough. Knowing he’d be home and not risking his life on those broncs should make me feel better, but it did little to comfort me right now.
Setting my hat back on my head, I opened the fridge to pull my enchilada dish out. I’d left it here so I could grab it after my lessons and head straight to Sage’s house. A quick glance at the clock told me I didn’t have time to shower like I’d planned. More time than I thought had passed since I walked inside.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I said as I walked behind my mom toward the door.
“Drive safe, and tell Avery I said happy birthday.”
“Will do.”
With the dish in hand, I headed for my truck and fought the urge to call Beckham and ask what was going on. He’d tell us when he was ready, and tonight was about Avery.
I had to learn that I didn’t need to carry the weight of everyone’s problems on my shoulders all the time. Worrying about everyone else wouldn’t ease the anxiety that always sat on my chest like a brick. I couldn’t be in control of everything all the time, keeping everyone safe and healthy.
I was finally starting to learn my limits, and though it was going against my instincts to not pick up that phone and call him, it wouldn’t be the end of the world.
***
After parking my truck on the street, I walked up the driveway with the enchilada dish in hand, heading for the front door. Sage had texted me earlier to come in when I got here, but when I reached for the handle, it didn’t turn.
Frowning, I knocked on the door, then waited. Moments later, the door swung open, and Sage was standing there in an oversized t-shirt and leggings.
Avery was making crash noises somewhere in the house, most likely playing with her toys, as I stepped inside. Sage closed the door behind me, bolting it.
“Everything okay?” I asked, nodding toward the door.
She wrung her hands together, then stopped and wiped them on her shirt. “The oven is preheated if you want to pop those in.”
Then she disappeared down the hall.
My brows drew together as I watched her go, but instead of following her, I entered the kitchen to put the dish in the oven.
“Callan!” Avery squealed when she saw me from the living room.
“Aves! Happy birthday!” I set the glass dish on the counter right as she shot around the corner and into my arms. Lifting her under the armpits, I spun her around, then plopped her back on the ground.
“Did you bring gifts?” she asked, the biggest smile on her face.
“I brought enchiladas,” I said, taking the covering off the top. Opening the oven door, I slid them in, then turned on a timer.
“That’s not a gift,” she stated with a frown.
“No? But you love food.” I left the plastic wrap on the counter in case we needed to reuse it later.
“Yeah, but I love gifts, too.”
I hummed. “I guess I forgot.”
Her mouth dropped open on a gasp as a piece of her hair fell over her forehead. “You what?!”
I crouched down in front of her, brushing the hair out of her face. “I’m just kidding, Aves. I’m bringing your gifts for your party so you can show them to everyone.”
She huffed a breath of air out of her nose. “But I wanted some today.”
“You are. You’re getting one gift,” I told her.
Her face lit up. “Really?”
“Yep. Enchiladas.”
Her smile fell again, but I knew she was faking it. She may not remember, but during one of our lessons, she told me her favorite food was enchiladas because of the sauce.
“What if I told you I put extra sauce on them just for you?”
“What color?” she asked skeptically.
“Red,” I answered confidently. Red sauce was far superior than green.
She tried to hide the smile that threatened to show again. Man, she was stubborn, but undoubtedly adorable.
“I may forgive you,” she said.
“Good. Can’t go through this life without that.”
“Without what?”
