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“Same with Rye. He never goes anywhere,” Fig says. “He always stays home.”
“Well, he was up at the cabin,” I say. “Why was he up there?”
Lemon smirks. “Dad made him go. He’s been in a bad mood for an entire year. And last week, Dad told him he had to go up to the cabin alone and clear his head and he wasn’t allowed to come back until he did.”
“How long had he been up there?” I ask, feeling like I know the answer, but so much happened the day I left, the day he found me.
Lemon, Abby and Fig all share a look.
Annie, though, clears her throat. “He’d only gotten up there that morning when he found you.”
“Oh,” I say softly. “So he was in a bad mood, you guys sent him to the woods in the middle of nowhere and he found me, and now you’re wondering why. You still think he’s angry and that I’m making whatever his issue is worse?”
Fig presses her lips together. “I don’t want to see you hurt.”
Lemon knocks into her shoulder. “Don’t.”
“Don't what?” Fig tosses back.
Abby shakes her head. “Nothing. It's just…”
Annie sits down on the bed. “Rye hasn’t been himself this last year. He's been really unhappy.”
“Which makes us wonder,” Lemon says, looking at me, “if he's ready for something so serious. You’ve been through so much. Can he take care of you? All things considered.”
My eyes widen at this, not expecting her involvement in the relationship I've begun with her brother.
But, of course they're all invested. This family is close-knit. They know everything about one another. They sent Rye to the woods to clear his head—they're deeply involved.
“Lemon,” Annie says. “That's too much. Let Prairie collect herself. All right? Can you girls let us talk for a moment alone?”
Fig, Lemon, and Abby leave with Plum, who was distracted by trying on Fig’s glittering necklaces.
Alone, Annie turns to me.
“I love Rye,” I tell her, exhaling. “I can't help it. But I don’t want to have to prove myself or prove how much I care for your son. I can’t change how I feel.”
Annie reaches for my hand. “Love is like that, Prairie. It's hard to understand.
You love who you love, and you can't really choose. The important thing is that you understand yourself; that you know what you want.”
I begin to cry, appreciating the chance to speak my truth. “I know what I want,” I tell her.
“I’m not sure Rye does,” she says softly.
Just then, Rye steps into the room. “Are you kidding me with this?”
11
RYE
I had a bad feeling about the girls all going upstairs with Prairie. This whole night was probably a terrible idea. Bringing her to Sunday dinner after everything she's been through is a lot all at once.
She spent years living with two people who kept her locked up. And then for the last week it was just her and me, living in our cocoon.
And then all this. It's a lot of people, a lot of energy. I don't want her light to go out. I don't want her to get swallowed up whole by Fig and Lemon—I know how they can be. Plus, with Abby and my mom all in the same room? Well, that's a lot of women.
The last thing I want is for Prairie to end up in a puddle of tears. And as I climb those stairs to Fig’s bedroom, passing half the Rough women as I go, I know something's not right.
