5. Anny
CHAPTER 5
ANNY
I lay in bed, still and silent. But I'm floating. Not from peace, but from something far more complicated. Seeing Fallon again tonight made my heart flutter and ache all at once. Even when I close my eyes, sleep doesn't come. It hasn't for hours.
Instead, I make a playlist and curse the fact that Fallon knows me well enough to make the prediction. Meanwhile my mind races with a jagged, unfinished thought that plays on a loop. It's part flashback and part nightmare.
It's six years ago. I'm twenty-two and standing in front of the old barn at Kingridge Ranch. It's the place he kissed me for the first time. The same place I gave myself to him in the early hours of the morning. But I already know it’s about to take on another meaning. This barn isn’t just the place of our beginning, it’s about to be our ending, too.
The sky is still gray and heavy. The sun is nothing more than a sleepy suggestion behind the clouds. The air carries that familiar scent of hay and dust. But I know everything is about to change.
Fallon's truck is already running. The engine is low and steady like a countdown. The bed is packed with suitcases when he closes the tailgate. He's wearing his old maroon sweatshirt, and there's a duffel bag slung over one shoulder. His hair is still damp from the shower. It doesn't feel big enough to be our ending. But I know exactly what's coming.
I stand leaning against the fence. My arms are folded like I'm cold. .. I'm not. I'm just trying to hold myself together. My hand instinctively drops to my stomach, where a quiet fear sits heavy. I wasn't sure. Not then. Not yet. But I thought I might be pregnant, and that thought had swallowed everything.
I want to tell him. I want him to stay. I want a thousand things at that moment. But the words don't come. They are cemented to my tongue. I’m too young and it's all too heavy. Instead, I just stand there. My mouth curls into a half-smile that doesn't reach my eyes. Fallon doesn't smile either, but his eyes soften in a way that undoes me.
"This isn't goodbye." His voice is low, but I catch the excitement in it, too. Rightfully so, he's heading toward his dream. "I'll call you as soon as I get there."
I nod because I can't trust my voice. "I know."
He walks closer, stopping just shy of the fence. We are eye-level with only a single rail between us, but it might as well be a canyon.
"You okay?"
I lie. "Of course."
He studies me. His gaze sweeps over my face like he's trying to decode me. "We'll talk. I'll call. I'll be back before you know it. Unless I can convince you to come with me."
I shake my head and give him a half smile. "Go. You're about to get everything you've worked for, and I'm happy for you."
He nods. But the air between us is heavy and filled with words we don't say. I love you. Please stay. Wait. None of it makes it past our lips.
Instead, Fallon reaches down and picks a wildflower growing near the fence post. He tucks it behind my ear. His fingers brush my cheek, just briefly, and he smiles. It's a real one this time, and the sight cracks something open in my chest.
"You're gonna do great here," he says softly. "You'll be running the whole damn place by the time I get back."
My throat burns. I nod again because it's all I can do. And then he squeezes my hand. Just once. His fingers are rough, warm, and familiar. I don’t squeeze back. Because if I do, I won’t be able to stop myself.
I might cry. I might beg. And I know Fallon, that’s all it will take to make him stay. If he stays, he will resent me for the rest of his life.
It was only six months earlier that I sat with Fallon, holding his face in my hands as he cried over the loss of his contract with the Southern Knights NFL team in South Carolina. He’s worked hard for this moment and deserves to go. So I let him.
Fallon hesitates but I tell him to leave. He turns and walks away. The brake lights flare red. My heart shatters. And just like that, he’s gone.
A few seconds later, Hunkleberry trots up beside me. He’s still a gangly puppy with paws too big for his body. He whines and presses against my leg. His tail swishes back and forth like he doesn’t understand what we just lost. I drop my hand to his head. Even now I can still feel the way my fingers sank into his soft fur as we stared at the empty road together.
I didn’t tell Fallon about the baby back then and I thought I never would. I told myself that letting him go was the kindest thing I could do. That if he stayed, I’d ruin him. That he deserved more than a girl with a maybe-baby and a fear that she wasn’t enough.
But watching that truck disappear broke something in me. And it never fully healed.
We don’t use the old barn on the ranch anymore. It’s too small for the way the ranch has grown. It’s frozen in time and falling apart, just like me and Fallon. But for years, I went back to that spot anyway.
Any time I felt like texting him and ruining his new life, I walked out to our spot instead. It’s like I thought if I stood there for long enough, I’d feel him again. Maybe even reverse time and change our conversation. The old barn is magic, but it didn’t work.
Now, lying in bed still feeling the touch of Fallon’s arms around me from earlier tonight, my memories web and tangle with the present.
Letting Fallon back into my world feels like playing with fire.
But I don’t know if I want to put it out.