Chapter 24 #2
Zander followed her outside, where rows of apple trees spanned out around them like a fan, hive boxes stationed throughout. The trees were purposefully kept short to allow for an easier harvest, each crown of leaves dotted with young fruit.
“Penny.” He approached where she stared into the tangle of limbs. “It’s a good idea. People could get excited about the demonstrations; then they’d want to buy the products. It’s a win-win.”
Golden hair whipped over her shoulder as she turned. “It’s a brand-new idea out of nowhere that I haven’t planned for, and it’s going to cost a bunch of money. Where’s the win exactly?”
He stumbled back, confused. “What is going on? This isn’t that big of a deal.”
Penny laughed, but it wasn’t the light trill that Zander heard in his sleep.
“Maybe you should go talk to my mom about it,” she said.
“She’ll be happy to tell you about all her great ideas that aren’t a big deal, except how they would cost us money and be more work for me once she caught sight of the next exciting thing. ”
“So because your mom has pissed you off over the years you won’t even listen to my idea?
” An old, defensive ugliness rose up in him, pushing out before he could yank back the leash.
“You’ll let me find you discounts, let me call in favors, but when I have my own idea, it’s not worthwhile, is that it? ”
“Zander.”
“Or maybe I’m here to help you be bad, not actually use my brain, too.”
Her glare turned icy. “That’s not what I said.”
“No, you said I could help you with this. You said we could be co-planners. I’m just trying to help.”
“I never asked for your help! This isn’t our festival, Zander, it’s mine.
Because I’m the one who stays here after.
I’m the one who deals with the consequences, over and over.
” Penny thumped her finger against her chest. “I’m the one who cleans up after everybody’s great ideas.
And I can’t risk it. I can’t use the small cushion we made on another idea, not now. ”
Penny’s body was tightly wound, her mouth pinched and angry.
Just yesterday he’d woken before her—a small miracle in itself—and watched the sunlight move across her room until it glowed against her hair and face.
She’d stretched and sighed, then peeked her eyes open at him and smiled, and he just felt it: a sense that Penny Becker would be in his marrow forever, no matter where he went next.
That intimacy was flimsier now, wispy like the clouds crossing the dome of sky. Penny looked a million miles away.
“Listen,” he said calmly. “I get that you’re used to doing a lot on your own, but you don’t have to right now. I’m here—”
“Zander, stop pushing this—”
“Why? Why are you shutting down like this? Why can’t you just consider it?”
“Because this festival is important and I can’t let you fuck it up!”
Zander’s lungs emptied. A choked laugh escaped as he shook his head. “Because that’s what I do, right?”
Zander stalked away a few steps, clenching his hands and shaking out his arms. He loathed these moments, when the damaged parts inside him beat against his chest, screaming to be let out.
Then fuck your festival and fuck this place, he’d yell, letting the righteousness burn up the embarrassed heat in his chest. It would feel so damn good.
And if he let it out at Penny now, he could leave town in a few weeks and not look back, not ache with the what-ifs or maybes, not stare at his phone and wait for her to text. He would have burned up all the goodness between them.
She was basically asking him to do it.
But then a hand was on his shoulder, followed by Penny’s forehead pressing just between his shoulder blades. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”
She wrapped around him from behind, holding him in place, hands splayed across his chest, where it burned. The instinct to break out of her embrace rose up, but Zander pushed it back down, and the rise and fall of Penny’s breath steadied him. Those damaged parts didn’t control him anymore.
She nestled her head against him. “That was a horrible thing to say. I didn’t mean it like that. Not at all. There’s just stuff that I…” Penny squeezed him. “Zander? I’m sorry.”
When she said his name again, quietly, like a question, he turned in her arms and pulled her into his chest, letting that fire die down as he breathed in and out.
There was more going on with Penny than Zander could see, that much was obvious.
She’d thrown up her shields and knocked him down in the process.
And even if he didn’t know entirely why, he’d done it enough himself to know that it wasn’t about him at all.
He was well-versed in the art of pushing people away.
And he wasn’t about to let Penny get away with it.
“If you want me to quit and leave you to do this alone,” he told her, “you’re going to have to try harder. Because I’m not willingly leaving your side until I have to.” He rubbed a hand up her back. “We don’t have to do the culinary station. It was just an idea.”
Penny peered up at him. “It’s a good idea. I just… I fell into a pothole. A really big one.”
Zander ran a thumb over her soft cheek. “Those things are everywhere.”
“Yeah.” She sounded so sad. The sky reflected in her eyes until Zander got lost in the blue. “I guess they are.”
And he longed to see all of hers, everything that wore her down: the experiences with her mom that made Penny feel like Becker Farms was entirely on her shoulders, whatever happened with Henry that left Penny so tight-lipped about him.
He’d learn each turn and dip, look ahead and help her steer clear.
And days when it couldn’t be helped, when she fell in, he’d be there to pull her up and steady her again.
But being here to keep Penny steady was as likely as seeing Sullivan’s Glen bursting with the oranges and golds of fall. In other words, not at all.