She reached out her hand. Struan took it, rising with her. He squeezed hard in silent thanks. She wasn’t sure she could look at him without crying with him,forhim, so she didn’t. ‘Anyway, thanks for the tea, Denise.’
Denise said nothing, staring at a rip in the wallpaper as her make-up smeared. It hadn’t been enough, but maybe Rae had known that. She’d needed to say it anyway; not for Denise, but for Struan and Martha.
‘Are you okay?’ she asked as they stepped into the tiny front yard. Martha and Vik were halfway down the road, Martha in Vik’s arms.
‘I should be livid.’ The muscle in his jaw pulsed, hands flexing at his sides. ‘I should bedevastated. But all I could think about in there was how I’ve spent my entire life wishing somebody would stand up for me the way you just did – and how in love with you I am for it,and how ridiculous it is that I’m not allowed to be. So, no, Rae, I think I’m far from okay.’
The breath whooshed from Rae’s lungs, a lightning bolt zapping down her spine. She couldn’t talk, breathe, think, those words clattering like cold metal in her ears.In love.
Even if she’d been capable of responding, he was already heading back to the car with a forceful click of the keys.
In love.He’d said it not like it was a good thing, but a terrible one. Like an accusation. Like she’d trapped him just to break his heart.
She gripped the fence to steady herself as pain lanced through her.
She wasn’t okay, either. She wasn’t sure she ever would be, not unless she found a way to keep them both: her best friend, and the man she was falling in love with.
34
The drive home passed in silence, and Struan was quick to escape the farm afterwards, muttering something about packing for his trip. Probably for the best, since Rae was still reeling from his confession, though she wanted to be there for him while he worked through his emotions.
As evening fell, she busied herself by preparing comfort food instead. While Martha and Vik made themselves scarce, Dad hovered in the kitchen. She wondered if he was upset that they’d returned early, breaking his short-lived peace, and clenched her jaw as she stirred through the cheesy macaroni. When the silence got too loud, air too thick, she snapped, ‘Am I in your way again?’
Dad leaned over the counter, gazing down at her under thick, silver-speckled eyebrows. ‘Not at all. Just watching the master at work.’
‘I’ll be done soon. I just wanted to make something for Martha.’
‘She had a rough day,’ he pointed out.
It was difficult to restrain a sardonicno shitat that, though Dad couldn’t have known. He might have been bad-tempered at times,set in his ways, but he never would have treated Rae the way Denise had treated Martha and Struan today. Never would have made her feel less than for not living up to his expectations, even if she knew her own lack of maternal desires would leave the farm without a successor, providing it stayed open for long enough to be passed down at all. He certainly wouldn’t care what partner she chose, her sexuality having never fazed him except for the one time he’d asked, ‘So, you like a bit of everything, then?’
Her frostiness thawed, posture drooping as she tended to the pulled pork sizzling away in the oven. After all the stress of the last few days, she expected the smoky scent of barbecue sauce and roasted peppers to turn her stomach, but instead, it grumbled.
There was nothing in the world that greasy, flavourful carbs couldn’t fix. She just hoped Martha agreed.
‘You did, too,’ Dad said after minutes of watching her.
Taken aback by his matter-of-fact tone, vulnerability stripped her defences. She wasn’t used to him noticing her that way. How obvious must her feelings for Struan be if even he could see them?
She tried to play it off, not ready for this conversation. Tonight wasn’t about her. It was about supporting Martha and Vik. ‘What do you mean?’
‘You’ve had a lot on your plate, love.’
‘My own fault, as you keep graciously pointing out.’ Her hands trembled as she grabbed the plates from the cupboard beside the stove. ‘Are you hungry?’
‘Ravenous. Just the pasta for me, though.’ Dad tugged the plates from Rae’s hands. ‘Where’d you disappear to last night?’
‘Just needed to change out of my chef’s clothes.’
‘For over an hour?’
He knew. Of course he did. God, she hoped he hadn’t heard her and Struan in the cupboard—
‘You’re a strong lass. I never thought to worry about how much pressure you put on those shoulders of yours.’
No. He wasn’t asking about Struan at all.
She was coping so terribly that it must have been written all over her face. He thought she was weak, and he was right.
