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“I sold it for two hundred fifty dollars to some guy in Evansly. He drove up here and bought it, along with my mama’s kitchen table set.”
I swiped at the tears gathering in my eyes, embarrassed that I was crying.
This is happening. He’s leaving.
“Tenleigh,” Kyland said, his voice gravelly. “Please don’t cry.” He stepped toward me. “Anything but that. Please.” He sounded desperate. “This is what I’ve been trying to avoid. This. I don’t want either of us to feel this way.”
“Well, I do! And you don’t get to take that from me. I love you, and you don’t get to say anything about it. The love I feel for you is mine. And I’ll feel it if I want to.”
“Tenleigh,” he repeated, his voice cracking. “Don’t love me. Please don’t love me. I can’t stay here. Don’t love me.”
“It’s too late.” I shook my head back and forth in defiance. “It’s too late. I’m not asking you to stay, but it’s too late for me not to love you.”
“It can’t be,” he said, shaking his head.
“It is.”
His eyes met mine and he walked slowly to me, the look of intensity in his eyes increasing. He stepped right up to my body and his eyes lingered on my mouth for several moments before he pressed his warm lips to my own. The gentleness of the kiss was in direct contrast to the expression on his face and the energy moving between us. I didn’t know whether to feel more anger, or more hope.
“I love you, Kyland,” I whispered when our lips had parted. “And I’ll love you whether you’re here in Dennville, or whether you’re in New York City, or London, or on Jupiter. I love you.”
He squeezed his eyes shut and let out a loud whoosh of air. “This is a mistake.”
I shook my head back and forth slowly as I gazed into his troubled eyes. “How can love be a mistake?” I wrapped my arms around his back, sliding my palms up his shirt to feel his smooth, warm skin.
He stepped closer into my embrace. “I love you too, Ten,” he finally said softly. “That’s why this is so hard.” His tone held defeat, as if the words themselves had stolen something from him.
My heart soared as much as it lay bleeding from hearing the distress in his voice and standing among the proof of his imminent departure. I held him tighter. “Whatever you need, Ky. Whatever that is, I’ll give it to you.”
He let out a long, shuddery breath but remained silent.
The problem was I didn’t know if us loving each other changed anything. In fact, after everything Kyland had shared with me over the past months, I understood more than anyone why he needed to leave. He deserved to live a life out of this house of loneliness and loss. He had to picture his torment every day—hear his brother’s cries in the very walls, hear his father’s voice in every room, feel his mother’s absence, her abandonment. I wanted him out of here as much as he did, and yet it still hurt so much. I bit my lip. But maybe…maybe if he won that scholarship, he wouldn’t leave me behind. Maybe sometime, somehow, we could even make a life together away from here. Maybe he’d allow that—maybe not everything from Dennville, Kentucky, had to hurt. And maybe he’d be willing to take the one thing that didn’t—me—with him, in his heart at first, and later…later, into his home, his life. Maybe first he needed some time to live without his demons, to begin to believe that love didn’t always have to hurt, that sometimes love was enough. I’d wait. I’d wait as long as he needed me to.
We lay down on the couch together and stayed that way for a long time, Kyland lost in his own mind, and me lost in mine. After a while, he asked if I wanted to stay and study a little bit with him—finals were on Monday. We didn’t discuss our feelings anymore.
We ate vegetable soup at his coffee table for dinner and then I kissed him goodbye. Marlo would be leaving for work soon and I needed to get home and make sure my mama was okay.
“I won’t see you this weekend,” I said sadly. “Be safe camping, okay?”
Kyland nodded, and I thought I saw some kind of sad longing in his eyes. But he was the one going away. That was his choice. And maybe he needed it. Maybe he needed that time in that place where he had a few happy memories of his family. Maybe that was exactly what he needed. Maybe that was exactly what I needed. Maybe I simply had to let him go.
I love him. I’ll give him whatever he needs.
“It’s your birthday tomorrow too,” he said softly. “What are your plans?”
