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“What do you think?”
“I think I could find her right here.” I have found her right here.
“You could,” he agrees. “You could also get away and clear your head.”
“Two years is a long time to be away.”
“So come with me.”
“What?”
“Come with me. I signed up for two years. I can’t get out of that, but there are other volunteers who come on at their own pace. I’m a job foreman, so I have to be there for the entire duration, but you, you could come for a couple of months or the full two years. It’s up to you.” He shrugs.
“Are you really okay with leaving Raven for two years?” I ask him.
He’s slow to respond. “Not really, but it’s something I feel as though I need to do. We’ve been in this same rut for years. We’ve danced around each other, and neither one of us is willing to change that. Maybe some distance will make things clearer.”
“And if she’s with someone else when you come home?”
“That would suck, but it’s a chance I have to take. We can’t seem to figure it out with this limbo we seem to be stuck in. Some time and some distance might be just what we need. Maybe I need to miss her so I can finally show her what she means to me.”
“That’s a big fucking risk, Clay.” Now is the perfect time to tell him how I feel about Riley, but I keep that to myself. I’m not ready to spill my guts just yet.
“Yeah.”
We’re both quiet, lost in our thoughts, and sipping on our beers. I think about what my parents said and how Clayton is willing to walk away from Raven just to see if they can get their shit together. Maybe that’s what I need too. Maybe I need to take some time away from the home that I love and the woman I love to see how we feel when I get back. Who knows, maybe she’ll miss me, and yeah, maybe we can be together.
“I want in,” I tell him, draining my beer.
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
“You going to commit?”
“A year.”
“Just like that?”
“Just like that. I can build houses and shit. That’s what you’re doing, right?”
“That as well as helping them with crops, and things like that.”
“Perfect. I can handle it.”
“You got a passport?”
“Yep.”
“Let me call my director and see exactly what your options are.”
“Thanks, man.”
“You’re coming with me?” A slow smile crosses his face. “I guess we didn’t need these beers after all.”
“Nah, we’ll always need a beer on the front porch.”
He pulls out his phone and makes a call while I open my second beer and listen in. By the time he hangs up, I have a pretty good idea what he’s going to tell me.
“Okay, well, you do have to commit. They started changing that so that they’d know how many volunteers were available. They have twelve months, eighteen months, and twenty-four-month terms.”
“Can I add on if I want?”
“You can.”
“Let’s do twelve.”
“Are you sure about this, Hudson?”
“Not really.” I laugh. “But getting away sounds good.”
“What about Riley?” he asks.
“What about her?”
“Come on, man, I know you want her.”
“Yeah, well, nothing can happen if she doesn’t want me back.”
“Dude, I’ve seen the way she looks at you.”
“I tried to kiss her.”
“What? When?”
“Friday night when I drove her home. I thought it was our time. Finally.”
“What happened?”
“She brushed me off.” He grimaces. “So yeah, getting away sounds pretty good right now. My parents recommend it, and it’s not like I won’t know anyone. You’ll be there.”
“All right. I’ll text him your email. He’ll send you a contract, and you leave in a week with me.”
“You gonna share your farewell party with me?” His answer is to hold his beer out to me, and we clink bottles.
Just like that, I’ve committed to living in another country for a minimum of a year with my best friend. The manual labor is something I’m used to here on the farm, and maybe, hopefully, when I get home, Riley will have missed me, and she’ll be mine. And if not, well, I’ll just have to pick up the pieces of my shattered heart and move on.
CHAPTER 5
Riley
I almost didn’t come. I’ve been avoiding our friends all week in an attempt to avoid just one person. Hudson. I kissed him. Well, maybe he kissed me. I’m not really sure. My mind was clouded with alcohol, and my body was fueled with adrenaline. I do remember the feel of his lips pressed to mine. I remember his taste and the look on his face when I stopped it.
It’s not that I didn’t want to kiss him. I’ve wanted that very thing for longer than I can remember. The issue is that I was worried. One kiss would lead to two, two would lead to ten, and ten would lead to sex. I was drunk. Not so drunk that I didn’t remember the events of the evening, but I wasn’t risking sleeping with my lifelong crush only to not remember it the next day. I wanted a clear head. So I pushed him away, and the embarrassment of doing so led me to rush inside my house, leaving a stunned and, from the look on his face, a hurt Hudson on my front porch.
