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Her lips parted and her chest heaved in; her eyes darted to his hand. “I thought you wanted me to read your note.”
He shook his head left, then right. “I don’t think you’re ready to read it.”
“Why?”
“Because I wrote it on Christmas Eve ten years ago,” he said in a distant, strained tone. His throat threatened to close and never allow him to speak again. “I was going to give it to you at midnight when we met at our secret spot.”
Her chest rose and fell, her eyes wide and yet distant. She quirked a brow at him and tilted her head in that way only Scarlet could manage. The tiny scar winked at him. “The night you never showed?” Her voice sounded barely above a whisper as if she feared to say the words aloud.
“Yes.” He swallowed the walnut-sized lump in his throat and sat back to try to suck in some air. “I can get another copy to go in the library box. I know it was always your wish to share that book with everyone, but this one is for you and you alone.”
She held up one finger, slid her hand from under his, stealing his joy, and then disappeared from the room.
He crumbled over the table, his head in his hands, forcing himself not to hyperventilate. What would she do when she read his message? Would she disappear and never speak to him again? This could backfire and she could run from him straight into the worthless boyfriend’s arms.
Soft steps echoed from the stairs, then overhead. His breath came in short, lung-constricting gasps.
Her gallop down the stairs was bold and loud before she reappeared in the hallway. His neck muscles tightened, threatening to choke him. She stood with a goofy grin and her hands behind her back.
He swallowed and willed himself to remain calm. “What’cha got there?”
She held out her own copy ofAll Creatures Great and Small.
Like he’d been taken over by the mind of a fifteen-year-old girl, he questioned why she had that book here with her—what did it mean? Was it only because she loved the story or because she pined away for him? He shook out the wayward thoughts and cleared his throat, willing himself to say something. “Guess it’s still your favorite book, too.”
She sat and moved in close as if to whisper a secret. “Do you remember when we read this for the first time?”
“Do I? Of course.” He brushed his thumb over her scar. His pulse jumped and pumped. She leaned into his touch but then sat back in the chair out of his reach.
She toed the floor and kept her gaze downcast. “That was the day you kissed my cut to make it better.”
“You remember that?”
“I remember being in a teenage body. The type that couldn’t breathe or think when your lips brushed my temple. I remember willing your mouth to travel lower to my cheek… to my mouth.” Her mouth twitched. “Foolish teenager, right?”
“Then we were both foolish because all I wanted to do that night was kiss you.” He breathed out the words that he’d been holding for all his life.
“Then why didn’t you?” she asked.
“Because I thought I wasn’t good enough for you.”
She shook her head. “You were too good for me. You were the most popular boy in the county school. A ball player—the girls threw themselves at you. I always thought I was your secret friend that you didn’t want anyone to know about because the geeky little bookworm would ruin your reputation.”
He wanted to sweep her into his arms and kiss her now, to show her how wrong she was, but that wouldn’t solve anything. She had to choose. He’d never ask her to stay here for him. And she never would. Not even after she read the message—he knew that—but perhaps it would make her think twice about marrying a man all wrong for her when she knew there were other possibilities.
After a long, calming breath where he allowed his brain to function past carnal thoughts, he stood and took her hand. “All I ever wanted was to have you on my arm, but I didn’t want to risk your reputation, afraid that hanging out with the town’s most depraved family would tarnish you.”
She chuckled. “Boy we were dumb teenagers, weren’t we?”
He dropped her hand and let out a stress-relieving laugh.
“I miss that.”
“What?”
“Your laugh. The kind that is so jolly it makes others feel elated even in the darkest of times.” She fidgeted with the book he’d given her, and he saw the mental war going on—her jaw tightened and her lips pressed into a thin line.
He held his breath, waiting to see what she’d do. Would she open and read it now?
