Chapter 28
CHAPTER 28
LIAM
B eing out here, thinking about the past, holding Olive in my arms—it all leads to a realization.
Stepping aside, not saying what I think, not going after what I want—these are the things that have led me here. I don’t want to do that anymore.
I want to go after the things I want. The trick is figuring out what those things are. Because at the moment, nothing feels clear.
“I don’t want to do the scavenger hunt anymore.” I take Olive’s hand and lead her back in the direction of the main barn. “I don’t even really want to stay here, with all these people.”
She laughs. “These people are our families.”
“Exactly.”
She laughs. “I’m the one who suggested Family Day. We can’t bail.”
“We could bail.” I give her hand a tug and pull her into me, wanting to shield her from everything else in the world even though she doesn’t need me to. “Can we just—” I kiss her again. Her lips are soft and taste like strawberries, and I’m pretty sure I could spend the rest of my life kissing her, and it still wouldn’t be enough.
She pulls back. “What do we tell people?”
“Nothing,” I say.
“They’re going to ask.” She moves closer, as if trying to get warm.
I hold her tighter. “I’m kind of mad you were the one who made the first move.”
She laughs, burying her head in my chest. “It was such an awesome move too—can we just pretend it didn’t happen?”
“Not a chance,” I tease. “You’re never living that down.”
She gives me a playful shove, but I hold onto her, something I can’t believe I have permission to do. All this time keeping my distance has led me here, and I’m not sure I ever want to let her go.
She looks up at me, eyes flickering mischief. “I made the first move because I was tired of waiting for you to do it.”
I laugh. “Oh? Have you wanted to kiss me for a while now, or . . .?”
“I mean, at least a few hours.” Her tone is playful, but something inside me shifts.
“Remember that play you did in high school? That Shakespeare thing?”
“ A Midsummer Night’s Dream ,” she says.
“Right.” I grimace. “I have no idea what it was about, but I was there.”
She nods. “I remember.”
“I went for extra credit,” I tell her. “I had no idea you were in it, but the second I saw you, I was . . .” I trail off, because how do I even put words to it? I was gone. For me, it was only ever Olive, and no amount of telling myself the opposite made it true.
“I was going to talk to you, ask you to go get ice cream, but before I could even say hi, some guy?— ”
“Tim Torino,” she says on a groan.
“Hate that guy.”
She laughs.
“He appeared out of nowhere and made it obvious you weren’t available.”
Her face falls. “All this time.”
I nod.
“And you never said a word,” she says.
“I kissed you in the treehouse.”
“We were twelve!” She laughs again. “And it felt more like a pity kiss because I couldn’t stop crying.” A pause. “I was so sad you were moving.”
I smile down at her. “I was really nervous.”
“It was a good first kiss,” she says generously.
I draw in a breath, remembering. “And then life took us in different directions, and we lost touch, but—” I meet her eyes— “It’s always been you, Liv.”
At that, her expression shifts, a mix of shyness and something else.
“So now . . . here we are.”
She reaches up and touches my cheek. “Here we are.”
I stare at her, wanting her, wishing circumstances were different. “Our timing is always a little off.” I brush my lips over hers. “Even now.”
Her face falls. “Can we pretend, just for the rest of the holidays, that there isn’t an expiration date on whatever this is?”
I feel my brow furrow. “You’re okay with that?”
“I have to be, right?” She looks up at me, her blue eyes wide, a worry line creasing her forehead. “If I only get you for a few weeks, I want to make the most of them.”
I lean in and kiss her forehead, then pull her into a tight hug. “We’ll figure it out.” I say it with more confidence than I feel because honestly, how does this work? I can’t ask her to uproot her whole life, leave her friends and family and move to Indianapolis. And I know she’d never ask me to stay here.
I feel her nod, and she holds me tighter, obviously making up for all the days of keeping her distance.
After several long moments, both of our phones start buzzing. I pull out mine and see a text from Lacey.
Lacey
Yo! Where are you guys?
We’ve got all our photos. Tell me we win the wine!
I show the text to Olive, and she groans dramatically. “We are the worst teammates!” She takes my phone and opens the camera. “Should we send them a picture of us kissing?” She giggles, and it’s the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen.
We don’t kiss. Instead, we pose, one thumb up and one thumb down, with matching apologetic expressions. I text to let her know they’re on their own.
We have other things to do.
I take Olive’s hand, and we walk back to the main barn.
“If we’re holding hands, we’re going public,” she says before we get there.
I look at her. “And we don’t want to do that . . .”
“We don’t want everyone else’s input,” she says. “I think our moms would lose it if they thought there was actually a chance we were together.” She faces me. “It’ll break their hearts when it ends.”
“Hey, no expiration date,” I say.
“Right.” She gives me a firm nod.
I shrug. “It could be fun to have a secret.”
We’re about to come into a clearing, so I pull her behind one of the trees and kiss her again, feeling like a teenager under the bleachers at the homecoming game. She melts into me, and I love the way it feels, arms wrapped around her, close enough to inhale the scent of her—vanilla and cinnamon.
My mind starts thinking about all the times I’ve wanted this moment to be real, and I drink it all in, knowing that when it comes time for me to go back to Indiana, I’m going to be the one who’s broken.
I pull back and find her watching me. “Were your eyes open?”
She grins. “I wanted to see you.”
“You’re so weird.” I kiss her again, with my eyes wide open. She keeps hers open, and crosses them at me mid-kiss. We laugh, lips still on each other’s, and then I take a big step back. “Keep your hands off me now, Witherby.”
“No promises, Fisher.” She pumps her eyebrows, and it takes all my will power not to grab her hand, pull her back, and kiss her again until she forgets her name.
We go back to the barn, where both of our dads are manning the oversized grill. I’m instantly guilty, like they’ll know what we’ve been doing behind the trees just by looking at us.
Olive must sense it because she bumps my shoulder with her own and hisses, “Act normal.”
I draw in a breath, inhaling the scent of burgers grilling in the cool winter air. I don’t know who started this particular Family Day tradition, but I’m glad they did. Because my mouth is watering.
“I’m starving,” I say as we come into the equipment garage. The big door at one end of it is wide open, giving the illusion of warmth while they flip the burgers and drink their beers.
“We’ve got plenty!” Dad says.
“Olive, are you okay? Your face is all red,” her dad says, frowning.
She reaches up and touches her cheeks, and I regret not shaving this morning. “I’m good. Just cold. It’s chilly out there! ”
Her dad seems to accept this, and when he looks away, she glances at me, pressing her lips together to hide her smile.
“Liam, help us get these inside, would ya?” Dad asks.
Olive hesitates for a minute, then says, “I’m going to go see if they need help getting set up.” She rushes off, and I watch her go, already wishing she were back here, next to me.
I’m doomed.
Her dad picks up a tray of cooked burgers and follows her to the café, and my dad glances over at me. “We heard from Travis.”
“Oh?”
“He’s going to bring the buyer out next week, but it’s more of a formality. Sounds like he’s very interested, and with any luck, it’s going to go through.”
“Oh, wow,” I say, a mix of emotions racing through me. “That was a lot faster than I thought it would be.”
“It could move pretty quickly, depending on how serious he is,” Dad says. “But it sounds like it could actually happen.”
I watch him for a few seconds, trying to hear what he’s not saying. “Do you know what he’s going to do with it?”
Dad shakes his head. “I guess we’ll find out.”
I look up and see Manny and his son Miguel out in the parking lot. Miguel is holding his little girl, and she reaches for Manny’s fake Santa beard and pulls it down. He makes a face, and she laughs, and my stomach rolls.
Olive’s words flicker through my mind— The Last, Best Pine Creek Christmas .