Page 161

Was I okay with this? With the not knowing, the not labeling, the never really talking about what we were doing? It felt like we were dancing around something bigger, something more, but I had no idea if Wells even felt the same way or if he was just in this for the fun of it.

I’d let him in, more than I had anyone else in a long time. I’d let him see me, raw and vulnerable, and I’d let him matter. But had I gotten too comfortable? Was this just the way it was going to be? One foot in, one foot out, with no real commitment or understanding?

The thought of Wells with someone else, especially Marie, hit a lot harder than I thought it would. I wasn’t sure if it was jealousy or fear, but it felt like a punch to the gut.

I ran a hand through my hair, frustrated. I didn’t even know how to talk to him about this. I wasn’t sure I could, especially after the mess of today. But Blythe was right. I needed to figure out what I wanted from this situationship, as much as I hated that word.

I sighed and grabbed my phone, opening the messages between Wells and me. Scrolling through the random conversations, the jokes, the late-night memes. It all seemed so easy when it was just that. Fun, carefree, no strings attached. But I couldn’t ignore the nagging feeling in the pit of my stomach anymore.

I needed to know where I stood with him. I needed to know if I was more than just a temporary distraction or if there was something real here.

And if he couldn’t give me that answer, then maybe I needed to walk away. Because I wasn’t sure I could keep giving pieces of myself without knowing if he wanted the whole damn thing.

SAY SOMETHING

I hadn’t slept at all last night. My mind wouldn’t settle, thoughts tangling and unraveling like waves against the shore—relentless, unyielding. The weight of the unknown pressed against my chest, making the walls of my small room feel too close, too confining.

All I wanted was to slip out of bed, past the stillness of the house, and lose myself in the wildflowers. The only place where the world softened, where I could breathe without feeling like I was drowning.

When my alarm went off, I pushed back the covers and made my way to the window. Wells was already outside, moving through the familiar rhythm of the farm. And judging by the order of things—the way the tools were put away, the quiet hum of a morning well spent—I knew he’d already finished the day’s first round of work well ahead of schedule. Which means he didn’t sleep well either.

I took a slow, steady breath, swallowing my pride as I prepared to go down and offer to help. It wasn’t easy, but staying locked away in this room wasn’t an option either. I slipped into my jeans and boots, shrugged on my jacket, and pulled open the door—only to stop short.

Sitting on the floor was a massive sunflower, a cup of coffee, and a note.

My pulse stuttered. Every rational part of me wanted to ignore it, to kick the flower aside and pretend I never saw it. But my stupid heart had other plans. It wouldn’t let me turn away.

Being here, on this farm, in Wippowa, I had become something I never expected—a sentimental mess.

I crouched down, fingers hovering over the note before finally picking it up. The paper was thick, the edges slightly curled, as if whoever had written it hesitated before leaving it behind.

With a quiet breath, I unfolded it.

Good morning, Sunshine

No name. No unnecessary words. But I knew exactly who it was from.

Annoyance flared in my chest, sharp and immediate. After his admission last night, after the argument that still echoed in my head, he thought a flower and a cup of coffee would smooth things over?

I wanted to throw it all away. Wanted to stomp right past him, prove that a few quiet gestures wouldn’t undo the damage. But instead, I picked up the coffee, cradling the warmth between my palms. And instead of ignoring him, I stepped outside.

The crisp morning air wrapped around me, carrying the scent of damp earth and something faintly sweet. Wells was by the barn, leaning against the fence, hat pulled low, arms crossed like he was waiting for me.

His eyes flicked to the coffee, then back to my face, unreadable.

“Didn’t think you’d take it,” he said. Not teasing this time. Just quiet. Just watching.

I took a slow sip of the coffee, letting the silence stretch before finally meeting his gaze. “I almost didn’t.”

His jaw tensed, like he had something to say but wasn’t sure if it would make things better or worse. Probably because he knew me well enough to realize it could go either way.

“Rose—”

“I’m here to do my job,” I cut in. “Not to talk about last night.”

A muscle jumped in his jaw, but he just nodded, pushing off the fence. “Alright.”

I wasn’t sure if I was relieved or disappointed.