7. Cane
7
CANE
“ A re you gay?”
The question startles me almost as much as his presence. I’ve been doing really, really well at avoiding him lately, but here he is. And he looks far too good from a day of working out in the sun.
His red hair is tousled by the wind, and his skin is dirty and sweaty. “I’m...” I can’t believe he wants to talk about this now.
“Living in the closet helps no one. You have to know that. I know you know that.”
He sounds angry, and I’m trying to figure out why.
“You’re going to hurt that girl.” He walks toward me, and I realize he’s talking about Evie. I saw them talking outside, but I couldn’t make myself join in. Talking about bullshit materials for the firepit and plans to make this land look pretty for our wedding.
I can’t think about the wedding right now. Any time I do, it’s like I can’t breathe.
“You’re going to hurt her even more than when you broke up with her.”
“So now you believe we were broken up?” I ask dumbly as his big body stops a foot away from mine.
“She told me you broke up with her a few times.” My eyes darken as I listen to him speak—unreasonably angry at Evie for telling him anything. Though she doesn’t know what I’ve done with him. She doesn’t know a lot of things.
“What the hell are you doing, talking to my fiancée about me?” I growl, anger bubbling up. This is so not like me. I keep my cool. Always have. Yes, I do stupid impulsive things like quit football and break up with Evie when it all becomes too much, but I always do it calmly. I don’t raise my voice. I don’t growl.
This man just brings something else out in me, and it scares me. Not that I think I’d ever hurt him or get physical, but I don’t have control around him. His lips turn up into a smirk. Taunting me.
“Your fiancée is a sweet girl who doesn’t deserve you playing with her.”
That’s it. Something snaps, and I grab his collar, slamming his back against the barn wall, and I get in his face. We’re evenly matched. He isn’t afraid, and he doesn’t back down or push me away. “Bisexuals exist, asshole.” I’m seething.
He smiles—actually fucking smiles at that—almost looking at me fondly as he does it. “So that’s how you identify?”
I’m practically panting, my body far too close to his. I can feel his breath on my face. “I thought you didn’t want to talk to me about that night. Why do you care how I identify or about anything?”
I’m still holding onto his collar, but I can’t seem to release him. “Because Evie is nice, and I don’t want to see her getting hurt. If you’re actually bisexual...” I tighten my grip, about to lay into him, but he keeps talking before I can. “Then that’s great. Really great. If you’re in love with her, then marry the girl and stop playing with her.”
“Fuck you.” I release him now and push away, trying to get my balance but feeling wobbly.
“We played that game.” He leans into me, his mouth near my ear, and it sends shivers down my spine, my body reacting almost violently. “I don’t fuck married men.”
“I didn’t ask you to,” I say, my eyes glaring at him as he pulls back, his expression full of mirth. “I’m not gay. I’ve known I was bisexual for a long time, and I’m not playing with her.” I straighten my back and lift my shoulders to look him right in the eyes. “I love her.”
It’s the truth. I do love her, but why can’t I just get past this sickening fear I have any time I think about the wedding?
He watches me way too carefully. Reading me. I want to tell him to get the hell away from me, but I can’t bring myself to do it.
“So what are you going to do with this barn?” It takes me a minute to process the question. My head flies up, and I look at him, then realize he’s letting me off the hook.
He’s changing the subject, and I’m a coward, so I take it. “I’m bringing my donkey and my goat to live here soon, since it’ll be our new home.”
“You have a donkey and a goat?”
I grin at that, thinking about the animals. “Yeah. I do. Thinking about getting another goat.”
“Hmmm, didn’t see that coming.”
“Really? I don’t look like an animal lover?”
“Nope.” He grins at me, and it’s intoxicating. “Or a guy who makes furniture.”
I gape at him and then shake my head. “Man, Evie loves to talk.”
“She likes to brag about you,” he says seriously. “She really does seem to love you quite a bit. Didn’t stop talking about you today or really any time I’ve talked to her.”
I can hear the words he’s not saying. And I know he really meant it when he said he thinks she’s a sweet girl—and she is. She’s really a sweet, nice, wonderful girl who I should be excited to marry.
“I’m going to marry her. I won’t hurt her.”
“If you marry her and you don’t actually want to”—he steps into me again, letting me breathe in that delicious smell of earth, dirt, sweat and Archie—“you will hurt her. You’ll hurt both of you.”
I swallow hard at that, knowing it’s the truth but unable to face it head-on. “I love her.”
“Sometimes that’s not enough, is it?” Smug bastard.
I open my mouth to call him that, but he just turns and walks away, heading to his truck. I see him give Evie a quick wave, and then he’s pulling out of the circle drive and leaving.
Evie is watching me curiously, but not with any hint of jealousy or suspicion. I would never cheat on her, but Archie’s right. I’m too close to hurting her.
This wedding—it’s a lot.
But if I go through with it, that’s it. I won’t break up our marriage. I just keep telling myself that’s what I need to feel settled. To actually, finally just do it and make her my wife.
That this wildness inside me, this feeling of something being not quite right, will go away.
But for some reason, I know deep down that’s a lie.
And my conversation with Archie did nothing but confirm that. I don’t want to hurt Evie, but I don’t know if marrying her is the right thing.
I love her, but I don’t know if I love her enough.
I’ve never felt so off-kilter in my entire life, and I don’t know how to get out of this mess I’ve created.