29. Christopher
twenty-nine
On our way to the barn, as soon as we leave the pool of light that surrounds the farm and we reach the shadows, I wrap my arm around Alexandra and pull her close to me. She lifts her face, then buries it in the crease of my shoulder. My heart does a little skip, and I hurry our steps.
The warm, animal smell of the barn brings back memories of make out sessions when I was a teenager. Justin and I would hang out here with whatever girls we had managed to bring to the farm, playing strip poker in the hay loft.
I don’t remember any of the girls.
I do remember, though, a dressing down by Craig when he caught us, for fooling around in a workplace.
Then, he lectured us on the importance of being protected. That was soon followed by frequent distribution of condoms.
I chase the thought away.
It feels so good to be alone with Alexandra. Just simply alone.
“I’m not gonna turn the lights on,” I say. We can see enough with the halo from the exit signs.
We open our coats, and I slip my arm around her waist while we walk around the stalls.
“They’re so skinny!” Alexandra says.
“They’re jersey cows. That’s how they look. Don’t worry about them, they’re well fed,” I say as a cow presses her nuzzle toward us.
Alexandra pets her. “Look at those eyelashes,” she says. “Lucky you.”
Hunter would have been way more qualified than me to give this tour, but no way was I going to let him be alone with Alexandra in the barn. I know it’s primitive.
But that’s who I am.
We walk away from the cow with the long lashes and Alexandra tenses under my hand.
“Are you bored? Are you cold?” I suddenly worry and pull her closer to me.
Her breath is shaky. What the fuck? Normally, I’d tell myself that’s the reason I don’t do relationships. It’s just too exhausting to read women.
With her, it’s different. I can tell now, she’s miserable.
But if I don’t understand why, I can’t fix it.
And, if I can’t fix it, what am I?
Worthless.
I turn her to face me and hug her, my hands stroking her back, soothing her nerves. “Hey,” I say. “Talk to me.” I trail kisses along her hair, inhaling the flowery scent of her shampoo. “Please?”
“I—I feel… overwhelmed.”
That gets a chuckle out of me. I tilt her chin up so her eyes are on mine. “You’re talking to a pro at being overwhelmed. Too many balls in the air. Just choose the ones that are the most important. You’ll pick the other ones up from the floor when you’re ready. They’re not going anywhere.”
She takes a deep breath.
“What’s got you overwhelmed?” I prod.
“Right now?” she asks, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth.
“Let’s start with right now.”
She waves a hand toward the farm. “This—this is so… great. And us,” now she waves her hand between us, “doomed. It’s hard.” She shuts her eyes and shakes her head.
“Yeah,” I say slowly, kneading the back of her head, feeling her relax under my touch. “What Lynn and Craig built, that’s pretty great, right?”
She nods.
“When I moved to Emerald Creek, I used to hang out here all the time. It was packed at my aunt and uncle’s, with Grace and Colton still at home, and everything they had going on. They took me under their wing, and they helped me out just as much as my own family. Lynn called me her misfit. Just like she did you, earlier.”
“You heard that?”
Of course I did. “I hear everything, when it comes to you.”
Her eyes travel over my face, so tender. “You never talk about your family. What is your mom like?”
I shrug. “She’s… I dunno. A nice person. Too nice. Gets walked all over.”
“By your stepfather?”
She remembers I have a stepfather? “For example.”
“She must miss you.”
“We’re in touch,” I say, feeling a little defensive.
“You felt rejected. Were rejected,” she corrects herself and clasps her hands behind my neck. Then she lays her head on my chest, her fingers twining in my hair.
She feels good right there.
“Felt rejected,” I admit.
“Too sensitive for your own good,” she says softly. “But you’re learning to deal with it.”
I growl. “Yeah, not sure about that.” If I were learning to deal with it, I’d protect myself better. I wouldn’t be holding her in my arms, swapping family history and aspirations.
“Tell me about your brothers.”
I chuckle just thinking about them. “Ryan and Trevor. Twins. They must be eighteen now.”
“That’s nice,” she says softly. “Do your brothers work at the bakery during the summers?”
“Naah. I haven’t seen them in a while. We keep in touch via video though.” I kiss her hair.
“Hmm. That’s too bad. It seems like it would be fun for Skye to have her young uncles around to be goofy with. And I bet you they’d love working with their big brother.” Her fingers are trailing circles on my back, soothing me.
“You know what? Maybe they would.” I pull her head back softly to look her in the eye. “I’ll mention it to them.”
“Why did you leave home?” she asks.
I won’t ruin this moment with my shit. “Beautiful, I don’t want to talk about it right now.”
“Mmm. Sorry.” She leans her head back on my chest, and I stroke her hair.
“Don’t be. I don’t want to bring back bad memories, that’s all. Bottom line is, I fought for what I wanted, and I got it.”
She squeezes me. “You deserve to have all that you want, Christopher Wright.”
I squeeze her back. “I have most of it. The rest, I’ll keep fighting for. You can count on me.” I spoke too fast, and I hope she doesn’t ask me what that is.
“Good,” she sighs. “I’ll tell the events committee they can start working on the party.”
“What party?”
“For when you win the competition.”
I laugh. “That may be a bit cocky. I said I’ll fight for it. Doesn’t mean I’ll win it.”
“You always fight for what you want?”
“Yeah.”
“Why do I have the feeling that when you fight for something, you get it?”
That makes me pause. The major milestones of my life sift through my mind. “If I really want it, you’re right. I get it. When I don’t get something, I realize I never really wanted it to begin with.” That would be true for Skye—I wanted her. And for her mother—I didn’t care for her. And for my bakery. “How about you. You a fighter?” She must be, if she came all the way here to get a promotion at work. Truth is, we don’t talk about Red Barn Baking, because I hate those bastards and she knows it. There’s no point ruining a good thing between us by bringing them up.
“I try not to be,” she tells me. “Whenever I fought for something that meant a lot to me, I ended up losing more than I had. So now, I don’t fight. I’m just grateful for what I have and don’t wish for more.”
What a bunch of bullshit. “What makes you believe this.”
She takes a shaky breath. I try to pull her face from my chest to look at her, but she resists and nuzzles deeper. I wrap my arms tighter around her to comfort her.
“When I was a little girl, the only thing I wanted was a big family. Brothers and sisters, cousins, a grandma and grandpa… I only had my mother, and I didn’t realize that was all I needed. One year, I insisted so much we at least spend Christmas with my grandmother, she gave in… It was not the Christmas I was hoping for. They fought a lot, and eventually, my mother left for a few days, promising to pick me up right after New Year’s. She never did.”
My heart thumps at her words. I think I can fill in the blanks from things she shared before, but I don’t say anything. I give her space to let it out, on her time.
“She died in a car crash on New Year’s Eve,” she confirms, her body tightening. “Some guy she’d just met was driving. I remember my grandmother calling me into her office to tell me.” Alexandra’s voice is so small, even in the quiet of the barn, I have to strain to hear her. “She said, that’s what you get when you wish for what you’re not meant to have… and when you forget that men only bring misery.”
I growl my disapproval.
“It’s true for us, you know,” she says in a firmer voice. “My grandmother and my mom. Sure didn’t have any luck trying to build a family. And when I tried fighting for more than I already had?” She lifts her face to mine this time. “My mom died because of me. She died because of me. So… done fighting for stuff I shouldn’t have.” Tears line her eyes, and it nearly kills me.
“Beautiful. She didn’t die because of you. That’s just shit that was fed to you, no disrespect to your grandmother. You need to let go of that.”
“I’m trying,” she says, her eyes widening. “It’s not that easy.”
“Of course it’s not easy. But there’s nothing you shouldn’t have.” I kiss the tears off her cheeks. “And if there’s ever something I can help you get, I’m here for you. You know that, right?”
She takes a deep breath and wraps her arms tightly around me.
I dip my lips to hers, our mouths seal to each other, and our tongues engage in their familiar dance. “You’ll be fine, beautiful,” I say as we come up for air. “Whatever’s overwhelming you, it’ll work itself out.”