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Together, I mean.
We're old loves, temporary roommates, short-term lovers with no feasible future, but together? No, that's not what we are. And I know we agreed to talk about this at some point, but I can't see a world where things could be different.
Our lives aren't compatible anymore, even if our hearts are.
“Stop worrying,” Cole whispers, pressing his nose into my hair and inhaling. “I texted Mama on the way to give her a heads up that you'll be here. No stress, okay?”
I blink up at him, sadness at our situation shining in my eyes. “What will we tell them?”
“Nothing.” He shrugs. “Everything. Something in the middle. Whatever you're comfortable with.”
“They hate me, Cole.”
“Nah.” He shakes his head. “They just don't understand.”
But they never will if I don't explain myself, which puts me between a rock and a hard place because I don't want to tell them what happened to me.
Truth is, I didn't realize something actuallyhadhappened to me until last night. I didn't know it was sexual abuse until Cole told me that's what it was. All these years, I thought what happened was something I did. Not something that was done to me.
And I'm still processing. Still coming to terms with this new version of reality. So, I can't bear the thought of having to retell it all to another person, let alone a whole group of them as we roast sausages over a campfire.
“You're worrying for nothing, princess.” He holds my head in both hands, thumbs against my temples, fingers wound into the flames of my hair. “No one's gonna say shit, okay? And I'll be there if they do.”
I nod, though I'm not sure I believe him. Because if roles were reversed, if it was someone I loved who'd been hurt the way I'd hurt Cole, and the only explanation I had for it was one built on fabricated truths, I'd carry that grudge to the grave.
“Sadie and Leighton should be here anyway, so you won't be alone, even if I have to help with the grill or something.”
“Oh, Little James is coming?” Crew asks with forced disappointment, having overheard the last part of our conversation. “Goody.”
Cole gives his brother a long look of incredulity, a knowing smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “No one buys that bullshit, bro.”
He takes my hand in his and presses his lips to my knuckles as we walk around the side of the farmhouse to the backyard.
Our footsteps don't crunch loudly over gravel. They're cushioned by grass and recently thawed sludge. We're quiet in our approach. We don't announce our arrival or call out to anyone, don't make a show of our presence in any way. Even Crew trudges wordlessly beside us as we make our way across the grass.
And yet, within seconds, a dozen or so pairs of eyes snap around to study us as we draw closer. They widen, then fall to our joined hands before narrowing in confusion.
No one says a word.
The silence is thick with questions, judgments and accusations. I can hear them as if they're being spoken aloud. Can see them written in the air refracting around the campfire, even though no one actually voices them.
“Hey, guys, sorry we're late,” Crew announces, oblivious or uncaring of the awkwardness plaguing the atmosphere. “These two didn't get out of bed until after noon. Had stuff to finish that just couldn't wait—if you know what I mean.” He punctuates his wildly inappropriate announcement with a lewd jiggle of his eyebrows.
“Fucking hell, Crew,” Cole mutters, tugging me into his side to wrap a protective arm around my waist. I melt into the comfort of it, seek solace in the warmth it brings, even if it does little to shield me from the glares being shot at me from the majority of the people present.
“Language,” Mama Belle snaps, coming over to greet us with her arms outstretched.
Wrapping me in one of her infamous hugs, she speaks quietly into my ear, “Don't you worry about them, okay, Althea? They're just surprised. Last they knew, my boy was cursing the ground you walked on and now he's looking at you like you put the stars in his sky. Go get yourself a drink and give them a minute to catch up.”
Then, she shoos me into the house, calling for Leighton to join me so I don't get lost. As if I could ever get lost in the home where the other half of my heart was raised. The place where I spent so many of my teenage years playing hide and go seek in the Christmas tree fields, baking cookies with Clover and Mama Belle in the kitchen, falling in love with a shaggy-haired boy as we made out behind haybales in the barn.
This farm is my home.
“Well, that was weird, huh?” Leighton asks with a teasing smile as I fill up a cup of half-cooled cocoa from a pot on the stove.
I grimace, leaning against the island, and take a sip of the chocolatey liquid.
“I take it you told him?” Curiosity glistens in her eyes like fresh snow, her appetite for gossip as ferocious as ever. Even so, I know from the bottom of my heart that she's also asking simply because she cares.
