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“I love you too, Flynn.”
He raised up and looked me in my eyes and the smile that crossed his face stirred something deep in the pit of my soul. I’d always loved Flynn, and I knew I always would. I knew, in college, that he was the only man for me, and all the men I had ever come across in Paris didn’t hold a candle to the strong, rugged, strapping, gentle human I’d fallen in love with.
Fallen in love with and left.
“I’ve always loved you, Chelsea,” he began. “From the moment I laid eyes on you until the moment you appeared at my trailer until now. Jesus, when your mother called and said-”
He slid off my body and out from between my legs, and I shifted and felt him spill out of me. But, I didn’t care. I didn’t care that I was lying in a mess and I didn’t care that I hadn’t brushed my teeth and I didn’t even care that we still hadn’t addressed why I left in the first place-- much less the fact that I was leaving next week.
All I cared about were the words he was about to say and how they obviously affected him so deeply.
To anyone else, Flynn was a stubborn ass. He listened to no one, took no advice, and always took the long way ‘round when it came to his goals. He shrugged off opinions and sometimes even told others to flat out shut their mouths, and he kept to himself at all costs whenever he could. He would always tell you that people exhausted him and that if they were exhausting they were stupid and he didn’t want to waste his time anyway.
But with me, he always relented. With me, he always yielded.
Why the hell did I ever think he would stop me from going to Paris?
“I thought I’d lost you, Chelsea,” he said lowly.
“I’m right here,” I whispered. I brushed his matted nighttime hair back from his face and studied his features, committing them to memory just in case this never happened again. Just in case I never got to lay here with him naked and vulnerable while still feeling beautiful and loved and cared for.
We had to talk, but for now, this was enough.
For the first time in three weeks, I didn’t wake up with a headache. My body didn’t hurt, and my stomach didn’t churn, and when I came down the stairs to Flynn making pancakes my mouth salivated out of a hungry need rather than from deprecating nausea I couldn’t shake. I slathered homemade molasses on them, and Flynn challenged me to an eating contest, and I watched him shovel down 10 pancakes to my four while we covered ourselves in sweet, sticky goodness.
“I gotta get back to the ranch today,” Flynn mentioned.
“I was wondering when you were gonna resume your life,” I smirked.
“Not until I knew you were alright. And obviously, by the way, you wolfed down breakfast, you’re doin’ just fine.”
&nbs
p; “You’re such a jerk, you know I’ve always had an appetite.”
“That was some decent eatin’, though. Lookin’ forward to watchin’ you slosh lunch all over your shirt.”
I slapped him playfully on his chest, and he grasped my hand within his. He brought it to his lips and kissed the top of my skin, and I felt my breath catch in my throat before he tilted my chin up towards him and captured my lips in a sweet, resounding kiss.
“I’ll be in just before lunch to make us somethin’,” he said lowly.
“I could make us something if you’d like.”
“Don’t bother yourself with it, it’ll probably just be sandwiches and chips.”
“Let me do something for you, Flynn,” I asked.
“What makes you think you don’t already?”
He kissed my forehead as a blush crept down my neck, and I watched him go out to his farm as he began tending to all his animals. I watched him groom and feed his horses before he moved to check the bulls, and when he let them all out to pasture, I saw him disappear into the heifer den, probably to milk them down and check on the ones carrying calves. He was in there for a while, so I retreated back upstairs to take a shower, and that’s when my mind began to race. I thought about the conversation ahead of us that would eventually occur and all the questions I knew he would ask, and I felt tears crest my eyes at the very idea of accusing him of holding me back.
My common sense told me he never would’ve, but my fears told me to not take the chance.
I had no idea how I was going to broach the conversation, but what I did know was that Flynn deserved answers I’d been holding on to for many years. I also knew that I’d fallen right back in love with him and that not a night had gone by that I hadn’t yearned for him to stay with me. The few nights he did retreat back to his room were nights I struggled to sleep and woke up feeling cold, and I knew that when I carried all this back to Paris with me, it would take me weeks to reorient myself.
Just like it did when I left him five years ago.
I had to go back to Paris, my entire life and career were there. But it made me so sick to think of leaving him that I tumbled out of the shower and threw myself into the toilet. The breakfast I had indeed wolfed down came barking back up the tree, and when I was done heaving, I wiped my mouth, sat down, and cried.
