Page 14 of Can’t Say No

“I hear lying makes you cold.” Connor says, with a shit-eating grin.

“Not cold,” I lie again. “Just that icky, shivery feeling you get when your sweat starts to dry. Which means that’s my cue to get back home. Sorry I interrupted your run.”

Another lie. I’m not sorry at all.

As I turn to leave, Connor catches my arm. “No big deal. I’m glad I saw you out here. Reminds me of being kids, chasing the fireflies until we were too tired to move.”

“I loved being a kid with you.” The words tumble out before I have a chance to stop them, but they’re the truest words I’ve uttered all evening.

“We didn’t know how good we had it.”

A beat passes, and I know he’s picturing those simple times, too.

“Let me run back with you,” Connor says, worry sweeping over his features.

“I could do this run with my eyes closed, but I appreciate the chivalry, Prince Charming.”

He leans in, his hand reaching out towards me for the briefest moment before he lets it fall to his side.

“Anything for you, Lanie Lou.”

A wave of anger crashes over me at the casual way he tosses out my nickname. I want to give in to Connor’s pull—the concern in his eyes, the genuine affection in his voice, the comfort of having my best friend at my side again. But the urge to run far and fast is just as strong. The years of unreturned calls, unread texts, all the accumulated hurt.

“You don’t get to call me that anymore. And you don’t get to promise me anything when there’s so many years of nothing hanging between us. I don’t need you to swoop in now and save me.”

With that, I turn and break into a sprint, letting the familiar burn return to my chest to numb out all the feelings. This damn orchard is haunted with ghosts that we have no business resurrecting.

If I’m gonna survive this semester in Ridgecrest, I’m gonna have to get better at avoiding Connor. I need to focus on playing the part, cleaning up my image, and getting the hell out of town as soon as possible.

6

CONNOR

You don’t get to promise me anything when there’s so many years of nothing hanging between us.

Delaney’s words were a slap in the face, one I deserved, but a sharp sting nonetheless.

But how can I explain the way my heart shattered when she left? How the only way I could begin to function without her was to keep her locked away in my memories, how I had to let the distance burn out the flame I’d been carrying for her for years, how my world flipped upside down when she left and I’d finally set it right side up again.

It’s easier to let her think I’m the ass who stopped picking up her calls, who declined every offer to see her. I’d rather that than crack my heart open and tell her the truth after all these years, only for her to leave again.

I take the long way back to my house, another punishing three miles in an attempt to clear my head.

We’ve got twenty acres of land, half of it idle. A few years ago, this place would have been teeming with workers, even after sundown, trying to manage the harvest. Today, the orchard is silent. Our dwindling roster of employees clocked out hours ago. We’ll be lucky if we have enough of a yield to keep the farm store open through October.

Add that to my rapidly growing list of failures.

I take the back steps of the farmhouse two at a time, desperate for a cold shower and to get my ass in bed.

I redid the house when I bought it from my dad a few years back. Opened up the downstairs, repainted and redecorated the bedrooms. But I never could bring myself to take over the primary suite. My bedroom faces out over the orchard, and beyond that, Delaney’s house. A much better view.

I grab my phone from my nightstand and fire off a quick text.

Me: I’ll come get you tomorrow.

Then another one:

Me: Shit, that sounds creepy. This is Connor. I meant I’ll drive you to work tomorrow.