A lump forms in my throat, thick and hard to swallow. Idon’twant to mess this up. I’ve been on my own for so long, haven’t ever felt tempted to form any attachment more than what I can have for a few weeks. But Stevie…
I want more with her. She makes me want things I haven’t before.
So no, I don’t want to mess this up. But it doesn’t erase the small part of me that wishes I could have more too. That I could have her friendship and companionship and make the rest work also.
But I’m leaving, like I always do. And she’s staying, like she always has.
There’s no future beyond what we have now, and wishing for it isn’t going to change anything.
“Right,” I say.
She stares at me for a long moment, pieces of her hair catching in the wind and sticking to her cheeks. An involuntary shiver wracks her body, breaking the intensity of her gaze. She turns away, grabbing her coffee.
“I’m cold.”
She’s almost to the door, her body mere inches from mine, when I reach out, hand connecting with her arm. There are layers between us, but I swear I can feel the heat of her radiating from beneath the fabric.
“Stevie, I…” I trail off, not knowing how to finish the sentence I just started. “I don’t want to mess things up between us because I want to still be friends when I leave. I don’t want to disappear the way I usually do.”
Her eyes flick down to my hand, still on her arm, before lifting back up to mine. “I don’t want that either.”
“This,” I say, my voice soft, barely audible over the wind. “It’s important to me.”
She nods, agreeing.
“I just didn’t want you to think…”
God, words are so hard. She makes my mind a mess, everything I’ve always chased falling to pieces beneath my feet.
“Think what?” she asks. Her eyes are so soft, and looking into them feels a little like getting lost in the woods. Shades of brown and green, mesmerizing.
“That I didn’t want you.”
Because I do. God, I do.
My eyes dip to the hollow of her throat, watching it bob. They slowly lift over the curve of her chin, the plush swell of her lips, and back to her eyes, still laser focused on me.
“It’s just that you’ve become too important to me to lose,” I say when I meet her gaze.
“Then don’t kiss me, Jack.”
I won’t. No matter how badly I want to.
Jackmadetherightcall, even though I wish he hadn’t. Or maybe I do. I’m not thinking clearly.
I need to get out of the cabin. It feels too small with him in it, his presence filling up as much space there as it does in my head. After whipping up a quick lasagna to take my parents to heat up for dinner, I load it up in the truck to head over to their house. I texted when I woke up to check in, and my mom said that Grandma was doing better today, but I still feel guilty for not being there to help last night.
The fork in the dirt road leading to the farm is packed with cars heading to pick the last of the pumpkins before they’re gone for the season, but the side leading to my parents’ house is empty. I could probably make this drive in my sleep, as familiar to me as the back of my own hand. My parents let me drive their old pickup on the farm long before I was old enough to legally drive on the road, and I can almost feel the peeling leather steering wheel beneath my hands as I roll past the trees lining the drive.
Mom is on the porch when I pull in, dressed in a thick wool sweater and carrying the basket she uses to collect eggs from the chicken coop. For a moment, I think I see her shoulders fall when she catches sight of me.
“Morning,” I yell when I get out of the truck, pulling my barn jacket tighter around my neck, the cold still managing to seep in.
Mom waves but doesn’t say anything back. There’s deep grooves between her eyes, and something about the image makes my stomach twist.
I grab the lasagna covered in tin foil and head across the yard, Mom’s eyes on me the whole time. She waits for me to climb the stairs then opens the door for us.
“What are you doing here, hon?”
