No matter what happened, I needed to know if Beckett felt any hint of what I do.
Maybe it was stupid to risk our lifelong friendship, but if we couldn’t handle an awkward conversation as adults, then we had bigger problems.
Beckett
I couldn’t focus on the screen in front of me, a headache forming already.
I’d spent the rest of the party miserable. I’d come so damn close to asking her out, only for Thatcher to interrupt. And seeing her chatting and laughing with Jack had been difficult.
Sure, I’d never liked any of the idiots she dated, but I also hadn’t fessed up my own feelings for her. I knew better. She’d had enough people leave or let her down, and while her parents weren’t awful they also weren’t super involved, and I wasn’t going to add my name to that list.
Still, the thought of Clara with anyone else was a stone on my chest.
So, I did what I always do at parties –- I stayed out of every conversation unless asked a direct question.
So why the hell did I mutter to the sky about being with Clara? Putting aside the fact that she was my best friend, Clara Whitlock was out of my league. Anyone who said otherwise was fucking blind.
Our friendship spanned decades, since early elementary school. We climbed trees together, learned how to ride bikes and horses together, and became each other’s confidant. I knew I was in love with her when we were sixteen, but I’d probably fallen long before that.
Almost two decades later and I still haven’t told her.
Clara’s never been interested in anything other than being my friend. It’d be devastating to lose her friendship, her trust. The last thing she needed was for me to hit on her. No, if she ever wanted more, she’d tell me. I refuse to be another dude who hits on her or tries to get in her pants.
I’d spent two weeks taking care of her after her parents died. She’d fallen asleep in my arms more than once, and I’d whispered my love for her to the dark only after I was certain she wasn’t awake.
No, I’m the guy she comes to for safety – she knows I won’t make a move. Nope. Not me. Even if it’s gotten harder to not touch her or be with her. I won’t make her lose her sense of comfort to appease my longing.
Instead, I keep a small distance when we’re out with friends, listen to her voice when she tells me about her day and customers or about her newest book boyfriend, bring her favorite drink when I’m in town running errands for the ranch, and provide a shoulder to lean or cry on when she needs it.
It was easier when we were younger, and when we spent a few years apart at different colleges; there were more distractions. Lately, though, it’s been harder, as if something in my chest is fraying at the edges.
In an effort to keep myself busy, I’ve thrown my energy into our family business, Hearthstone Lodge and Ranch. My part of it, at least. After a few rough years due to economic downturns and bad weather, bookings to the Lodge had been slow, and not as many families could afford riding lessons these days. The money set aside during previous profitable years had started to thin.
Our parents were ready to retire. They had earned it as far as I and my brothers were concerned. Thatch, Noah, and I had spent months deciding on what we each wanted, for the business but also for ourselves. We decided our collective goal was to make each arm of the business independently profitable. Things would be tight for a bit, but with a few creative ideas, a lot of grit, and some belt tightening, we should be okay.
“Morning,” Noah said as he came into the small room off the kitchen of our parent’s house, mug of coffee in hand.
We didn’t use the space as a true office for the various branches of the business, but the study had a large built in bookcase along one wall, and two desks that we kept mostly clear so we could easily come and go.
The main office was built into the side of the barn and stables, which Dad had designed and built when he remodeled the entire structure a few years back.
All three of us made a point to stop in and say hi to our parents in the morning and often used the study to make calls or have an informal meeting.
“Morning.” My response was more of a grumble than I intended. I needed to get my shit together.
“You left early last night.” Noah’s innocent statement was anything but. As the youngest, and Ma’s favorite, Noah had learned very early on that he could get away with a lot more than Thatch or I could.
“I wanted to get an early start this morning.”
“Mhm, and Clara was getting attention from Jack.”
I ignored the bait. Noah noticed more than was good for him – or me. Time for a subject change.
“We need to change up our marketing for the riding lessons and the trails geared to tourists. Maybe see if we can find and bring on someone who can help us branch out into equine therapy one or two days a week.”
Noah’s smirk disappeared and his expression shifted into serious contemplation.
“Dad won’t like it.”
