I hear her voice in the morninβ hour she calls me, radio reminds me of my home far awayβ¦
You whistled a quiet tune, as you walked around the farm, picking up branches and such, as a storm had rolled in the previous night.
The paint of the old barn on your plot of farmland was peeling, the sun bleached red chipping away into white. The farm, the countryside, the tall hills of trees. It was like heaven on earth.
The sound of Emmettβs truck pulling into the long, dirt driveway made you poke your head up.
You smiled softly, as your husband parked the truck, and got out, slamming the truck door shut behind him.
βHey, baby.β Emmett murmured, smiling gently. In a few long strides, he was at your side, placing his hands comfortably on your hips.
He glanced over at the stack of branches you had piled by the porch while he had been in town, and looked impressed.
βDid you do all that?β He asked, nodding in the direction of the branches. βYou work too fuckinβ hard.β Emmett mumbled with a smile, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips.