Chapter 13 #2
Just like a few days before, I felt the pull of the oak, the way it hummed with something I couldn’t quite understand. Something that maybe did feel a lot like magic.
Shaking off the formidable spell it cast, I focused on the area around it to see if Marlowe was anywhere in sight.
Woof!
My head snapped up in time to see the dog on the other side of the tree.
“Marlowe!” I called, and he turned and took off, disappearing behind the trunk and melting into the shadows.
“No,” I called. “Come back here.”
Did he think this was a game? It was late and dark and cold. Archer was worried sick.
The thought of Archer turned my haste into a run, feet slapping over the frozen ground as I darted after Marlowe. My breath puffed out before me in big, white clouds as I bolted around the trunk, hoping to see the dog.
He was a few yards away, at the edge of the oak’s reach.
He barked again and took off, so I started running too.
Moments later, I collided into something hard, flying back and landing so that the sky was a blanket above me. Breath knocked out of me, I coughed as my arms flung out to the sides.
A warm, wet tongue scraped up the side of my face, the slobber cooling instantly and making me shiver.
“Marlowe,” I panted, reaching up to bury my fingers into the fur at the dog’s neck and realizing just how cold I felt, even with the gloves.
If he hadn’t made me wear them, I’d be frozen.
Archer appeared above his dog, scowling. “Toby.”
“I got him,” I said, tightening my fingers into his fur.
“I think he got you,” he rebuked and then nudged the dog aside.
“Wait, he’ll run,” I protested, trying to keep hold of the Aussie.
“He’s not going anywhere,” Archer informed, reaching down to grab my arms and haul me up.
“You’re not the one who’s been chasing him,” I muttered, brushing the snow off my coat.
“You were chasing him?”
“It’s like he wanted me to come here,” I said, glancing over my shoulder at the tree. “How did you find him?”
“I heard him barking.”
“Right.” I agreed. “Well, I’m glad we found him. I’ll check his paw quickly, then look at it better once we get back to the barn.”
I turned to see the dog beating his tail against the ground as snowflakes sprinkled in his fur. “Good boy,” I said, leaning down to pet him. His tail beat harder, and his ears wiggled with excitement.
“Can I have a light?” I asked over my shoulder. Then to the dog, “Paw.”
Marlowe lifted his paw into my waiting hand.
“Good boy,” I praised as I lifted his leg, and Archer angled the light. The bandage was gone, probably part of the land now, but there didn’t appear to be any bleeding, so that was a positive sign.
“Seems okay,” I said, lowering Marlowe’s paw and standing.
“Your pants are soaking wet,” Archer announced, shining the light on my lower half as though he was going to interrogate my khakis.
I shrugged. “It’s snowing.”
“On the ground,” he bit out. “So why is it on your pants?”
“I fell.”
His brow dipped low over his blue stare. “Did you roll around in it too?”
“Thank you for helping me find my dog, Toby,” I parroted. Geez, he was a grump.
“Of course I’m grateful,” he snapped. “But I don’t want you to freeze.”
Out of nowhere, frustration bubbled up inside me, and I glanced down at the gloves covering my hands. “Who cares about my feelings? But don’t want me to freeze,” I muttered.
“What?”
The shock and bewilderment in this tone brought my head up, and good news, I was definitely not in danger of freezing because I was flaming hot with embarrassment.
Why did I say that out loud?
Choosing not to say anything more—who knew what would fall out?—and yes, I blamed the mistletoe—I started back in what I hoped was the direction of the truck.
“Toby,” Archer called.
I kept going, passing beneath what would be the oak’s canopy in the summer.
“Toby! Wait,” he called again.
He caught up to me. Of course he did. His feet were the size of Paul Bunyan’s, and those boots he always wore made them even bigger.
“Why did you say that?” he asked, curling his hand around the underside of my elbow.
I stopped with a huff. “What?”
His eyes narrowed into blue slits, practically daring me to play dumb.
Well, joke was on him because, if we were playing truth or dare, I was not picking truth.
“You think I don’t care about your feelings.”
Oh, goodie gumdrops. He was picking truth.
“That’s not what I said.” I turned to go.
He yanked me back. “That’s exactly what you said.”
“Just let it go.”
“I won’t.”
“Why?” I pressed. If he wanted truth, then I’d let him have it. See how he liked being in the hot seat.
His lips snapped shut, a look of utter bafflement passing over his face. I laughed under my breath. Exactly. He was just arguing to argue.
“That’s what I thought,” I said, victorious, and snatched my arm free to storm away.
“I already made that mistake once,” he called after me.
I stopped abruptly, heart squeezing painfully. Biting into my lip, I forced myself to remain as I was and not turn around. The effort was so taxing that tears blurred my vision.
“I won’t let it go. I won’t let you go. Not tonight. Maybe not ever. Because the last time I did, it was the biggest mistake of my life.”
I stopped breathing, all the oxygen just banished right from my lungs. Still, I didn’t turn around. I couldn’t. This moment—my heart—was too fragile.
I stood there in the frigid winter air, beneath a tree that knew all my secrets, and trembled like a leaf clinging to its last moments of life.
His boots crunched over the newly fallen snow, and my ears locked on to that sound like it was my lifeline. They faltered just behind me, and the moment swelled around us, a full-to-near-bursting feeling that overcame everything else.
“Please turn around,” Archer asked, his voice much softer than before. “Look at me, Toby.”
I rotated slowly, realizing that it wasn’t just me pivoting in this moment but maybe the rest of my life.
When I was finally turned, I had to summon the courage to raise my stare.
Lashes fluttering and heavy, they lifted so I could gaze into a face that held so many roles over the course of my entire life.
Friend, confidant, co-conspirator, secret crush, first love, first pain, enemy, memory…
“I’m sorry,” he said, taking my attention, ruining it for anyone else. “I’m so sorry, Toby. For that night under the mistletoe. For reacting the way I did, pushing you away. I’ve regretted it almost from the moment it happened, the second I saw the hurt on your face.”
My chin trembled. I stopped it. “Not enough to say anything.”
Swallowing, he ducked his head and nodded. “I know. I couldn’t.”
“Couldn’t or didn’t want to?”
“Maybe both.”
I made a pained sound, and he straightened, grabbing my arms like he was afraid I’d try and run away.
“I was so confused then. I felt like my entire life was falling apart.”
“Yeah, your best friend confessing really crumbled everything.”
“My dad was dying.”
I looked up. “What?”
Archer nodded, pain darkening his features.
“We knew he was sick. We found out just a couple weeks before Christmas. He didn’t want to tell anyone.
Said he didn’t want to ruin Christmas. And then after that, he said he didn’t want to tell people because they’d look at him with pity and treat him like he was sick.
He just wanted everyone to treat him as they always did. He wanted everything to stay the same.”
“You knew…” I echoed, shock making my voice breathless.
“Yeah, we knew,” Archer confirmed. “Even then, the doctors weren’t too hopeful, but we hoped anyway. He thought he could beat it… He lasted longer than they said he would.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?” I asked, arms reaching up to grab his so we both stood there under the old oak, hands full of each other. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I wanted to. God, I tried a thousand times. But he didn’t want anyone to know, and I… I guess I wanted to keep things the same for just a little bit longer.”
“But I tried to kiss you.”
Licking his lips, he nodded. “Yeah. And I freaked out. Everything was changing. Football season just ended. My dad was sick. You were planning college… I felt like I was losing everything.”
I shifted closer and whispered, “Archer.”
“But in my attempt to hold on to everything, keep it all the same just a little bit longer… I lost you.”
“I thought you were disgusted by me.” The admission sprang out of my chest like ten tons of pressure.
Archer made a sound. “I could never.” He was vehement, letting go of my arms so he could grab onto my face.
His glittering blue eyes stared into mine, imploring and resolute.
“Nothing about you could ever disgust me. Ever. I was surprised. I reacted epically bad. And then…” His voice trailed away. “It was too late.”
“We already hated each other.”
“I never hated you.”
“I never hated you either,” I whispered.
“Fighting with you became this focus,” Archer confessed.
“This thing that got me through the day. I missed you, but I was also angry at the entire world. So I focused all of it on you… at you. I wasn’t ready for anything more than friendship, but I hurt you too much to even have that. So I settled for being your frenemy.”
“You ate my eggnog creampuff,” I accused.
He laughed. “You should have seen your face.”
“I hid in the bushes across from the school and watched you walk to your truck in a towel,” I admitted.
Archer threw back his head and laughed. “I was lucky I didn’t get expelled.”
“You really didn’t hate me because I was gay?”
“I knew you were gay, Tobes.”
“But you didn’t know I was gay for you,” I said.
“I was surprised at first… but I never hated it.”
“Really?”
He hummed. “It took me a long time to realize that maybe I’d always felt more too.”
Shock widened my eyes as I stared at him in disbelief.
“But by then, you were already in Boston, my dad passed, and I was in charge of the farm.”