For Nikki Star, raising Daisy has always meant balancing hope with caution. For Colin Pierce, coming back to Glen Falls meant finding a way to give back—and maybe finding a place to belong.
In this scene, Daisy’s innocent wish for Colin to stay forever collides with the tender, complicated truth of what it means to step into someone else’s family. Between laughter, longing, and one interrupted kiss, Colin and Nikki discover that love isn’t about perfection—it’s about showing up, even when fear says to run.
The Dilemma
Daisy considered this, gaze drifting from Snazzy to Sassafras. “I don’t want to move anymore. I want to stay here forever.” She traced circles in the straw with her toes. “I think Colin should stay with us, too.”
Colin’s arms stiffened and his breath caught—subtle, but noticeable against her back. Nikki slipped her hand over his, willing him to relax, to understand Daisy’s heart spoke faster than her head. “We’re pretty lucky he wants to spend time with us, aren’t we?”
Daisy looked up, her whole face bright. “He’s pretty good. But he can’t eat three doughnuts anymore because Snazzy and Sassafras will want one. Maybe you could buy the family pack”
Colin snorted, but it didn’t quite ring true.
Nikki forced a smile, trying to smooth the sudden tension. “I’ll talk to him about that.”
Colin’s arms loosened, just a little, but she could feel the distance.
Daisy grinned in that wide-open, hopeful way only children managed. “I think he should stay forever.”
Nikki brushed her thumb along Colin’s wrist, silently apologizing for her daughter’s wish. Still, a secret part of her wanted the same thing—a place where messy, ordinary happiness could last.
Nikki shook off the wistful dream, a luxury she couldn’t enjoy at present. “I don’t know about you two, but I’m ready for lunch. It’s been a very busy morning.”
“Awe, Mom,” Daisy whined. “I didn’t get to finish the story and I promised Snazzy.”
“Ten minutes.”
“Fifteen,” Daisy said. “I’m a slow reader and Sassafras has never heard the story.”
Nikki pointed at the donkey’s drooping head. “Sassafras is asleep.”
“Nope.” Daisy shook her head for emphasis. “He’s just resting his eyes.”
“Ten minutes, Daisy Monet. You can return after lunch while I study.”
Nikki chewed her lip on the slow walk to the house. Colin walked beside her, his hands in his pockets, features pensive. How did she fix this? Should she say something about Daisy’s comments? Ignore it? Hide in the closet and suck her kneecaps? Geez, why couldn’t they just have a regular relationship? Because she was a mother.
He stopped at the entrance to her back door. “I need to shove off and play a little catchup.” He shrugged staring at his boots instead of her. “I’ve gotten behind.”
“Sorry for that.” But she really wasn’t. She’d never be sorry for the time they’d spent working together.
Colin’s hand brushed hers, hesitant but sure. “Just remember, you did it, Nik. You gave her something real.”
When she brought her gaze to his, her heart expanded, too big for her chest. “I couldn’t have done this without you.”
He smiled, the kind that went all the way to his eyes. Then, slowly, leaned in. The world hushed, every heartbeat, every breath, every hope pressed inside her.
Daisy’s giggle floated on the breeze. Colin froze, but his lids remained hooded, his gaze bright, calculating. Nikki swallowed. Was that it? Daisy wasn’t a secret. He’d known all along, Nikki was a twofer.
But as quickly as he’d halted, he moved in. His firm lips covered hers, slow, and tender, as if he had all the time in the world. The porch faded, her worries faded, until it was just him, and her, and the steady warmth of his hand.
Colin pulled away, his palm still warm against hers. But the space between them suddenly felt wider. His gaze dropped, shadowed with regret.
“I’m sorry,” he said, voice low. “I didn’t mean to take over. With you. With Daisy. This… it’s not simple. Little kids—” He shook his head. “I don’t want to get this wrong. She’s too precious.”
For a heartbeat, Nikki’s chest tightened, old doubts flaring. So he was stepping back? That moment in the barn throbbed in her head. She’d known the risk of hoping, caring. Now, it was clear. She’d misread the whole thing. Maybe she’d wanted too much.
And if she had, she’d face it head on. Forcing her gaze upward, her disappointment faltered. He couldn’t quite meet her gaze and his hands—usually steady, fidgeted against his thighs. She replayed his words. Had his voice cracked on the word “precious?”
This wasn’t rejection—it was fear. A good man’s fear of hurting the people who mattered most.
Her heart softened and she squeezed his hand, gentle but sure. “You won’t get it wrong, Colin. Not when you care this much.”
He glanced up, vulnerability raw in his eyes. She offered a small, steady smile.
“We’re not asking you to be perfect. Just to be here.”
He nodded, managing a faint, grateful smile. “I missed that course in law school.”
“Children don’t come with instructions—not even for moms.”
His dark green gaze held hers. Instructions would be great—for men and women. Instead, she had to push forward, heart exposed, hoping the wind didn’t break it.
She willed him to kiss her goodbye. Instead, he gently released her fingertips and turned toward his vehicle.
For a moment, Nikki let herself believe what she’d just said—that showing up, choosing to try, was enough.
But as Colin pulled away and the quiet settled between them, doubt edged in behind the hope. She’d put her trust in men before—her father, who’d faded out of her life in slow, silent steps; Rhett, whose promises never survived reality. Even Vic, gone too soon to keep any word. They had all left, one way or another, and she’d learned how much it hurt to build hope on shifting ground.
That knowledge, however, didn’t stop her from tracking his car’s progress down the drive until it disappeared.
One difference circled her mind. Unlike Rhett, her dad, or Vic, Colin admitted his uncertainty. Honesty mattered. She understood the fear of making the wrong choice when everything—everyone—was at stake.
“Something else we have in common,” she murmured, the breeze catching her words. Maybe this time would be different. Maybe it wouldn’t.