Page 75 of Under the Orchard’s Spell

“What do you need?” he asks, softer now.

Water invades my hood—so much I can taste rain. My cheeks are as soaked as if I’d already been crying. Still, I won’t let myself. Not for them.

“I’m okay.” I suck in a shuddering breath and with it more rainwater. “You don’t need to worry about me so much.”

Logan’s thumb traces the curve of my jaw.

“You get to feel what you feel,” he says.

I shake my head against his hand even as tears singe my nose and eyes.

They’re together. I could have guessed it from the way they tried to apologize, the glances they exchanged as they rushed to pack. But having a suspicion is different from being confronted with a hard reality. Even worse, after spending years imagining a future with these two people, they have seamlessly moved on to an entirely different one.

Or, rather, the same future without me.

Because they’re moving to Apple Valley.

My legs tremble as I shut my eyes against it all: the cold rain that’s slicking the backs of my legs. The soaked, spongy earth under my feet. The cinch of betrayal.

“Hold me?” I whisper.

Logan closes the distance between us and scoops my body into his arms. His biceps are steady and warm and my chin sinks against his expanse of chest. My hands close into fists as I tremble against him, fighting back the storm.

“I’ve got you,” he says softly. “You can let go.”

I shake my head, rubbing my nose against the coarse material of his jacket. I can’t. I’m teetering along a narrow ledge. I’m barely keeping myself from free-falling into an abyss where I’ll lose everything. My farm. My home. Myself.

My mental attic is so packed that if I pry loose one box, the entire tower will collapse.

The wind picks up.

Over Logan’s shoulder, the back door to the barn snaps open. Framed by a bright shaft of light, Val squints into the darkness. There’s almost certainly something I need to deal with inside, like a dessert tray that needs to be refilled or a problem with the stereo.

I step out of Logan’s embrace, but I’m flagging with the wind. His fingers brush against my elbow, and I fumble for his wrist to keep upright.

“I shouldn’t be out here,” I say. “There’s a mousse in the fridge and—”

“The guests will be fine.”

Pressure is mounting inside my chest, but I can’t. Every muscle in my body is rebelling against my anger. My hurt. It’s too big, too explosive. If it comes out pure and raw, it’ll consume me.

“And…there’s Blake and…everyone else. They’ll notice I’m missing.”

My breaths are coming in short gasps now. The rain intensifies, assaulting my knees and shins in cold droplets that are so hard they’re nearly painful.

“You can let go.” Logan’s voice is a rumble against my ear, so low I nearly miss it. “You’re safe. You aren’t alone.”

A sob wrenches in my throat. I can’t. I can’t.

I can’t.

The rain intensifies, scoring the backs of my hands, the tops of my feet exposed by my strappy sandals.

It’s so painful that it doesn’t feel like rain.

And that’s when I know it’s not.

Hail.