Chapter 27
She’s leaving today.
Addison and I have spent these last few days soaking up every second we can together—which hasn’t been easy considering I’ve been helping plan the farewell barbecue, trying to help Briar, and Addison has been packing up her stuff to head out of here.
I’ve been staying busy, so I don’t break down.
Even though I know Addison wants to talk, I can’t bring myself to. I can barely sit still to eat. Every night, instead of saying the words bubbling inside of me, I use my mouth in other ways before falling asleep.
She’s distancing herself from me, too, and even though I know it needs to happen, it still fucking hurts.
Addison has a long drive back to Henderson, but Daddy and I both insisted she stop in Salt Lake City instead of going straight through.
She and Athena will need the break, and though I could tell she wanted to argue, she didn’t.
She knows it’s what’s best for Athena, and she wouldn’t do anything to compromise the health of her horse.
She’s in the bedroom, packing up the last of her clothes and toiletries while I finish wrapping her goodbye present. I sniff back another wave of tears. When she’s gone, I can break down, but until then, I need to be strong.
I finish tying the dried wildflowers with the twine as I hear her zip up her bag. We step out of our respective rooms at the same time and meet in the middle of the living room. The words we haven’t said, built up over these last four months, create a thick fog of tension in the silence between us.
I clear my throat and hold out the box with her name inked in swooping letters on brown wrapping paper.
Her brow furrows as she takes it. “What is this?”
“Just something so you can remember your time here. Don’t open it until you’re home, though.”
“Thank you, but… I feel bad I don’t have anything for you.”
I shake my head and lift on my toes to give her a kiss on the cheek. “I don’t need anything. I’ll remember this summer until I’m old and gray and have to put my teeth in every morning. Thank you for everything.”
“Juniper, I—” Addison shakes her head, her thumb tracing over the dried pink and purple flowers. She sets the box down and grabs me by the waist, pulling me into her. “Thank you. Whatever it is, I’m sure I’ll cherish it forever.”
She kisses me softly, so different from the other kisses we’ve shared. This time, instead of swarms of butterflies in my stomach, hollowness creeps in, creating an Addison-shaped hole that will be impossible to fill.
This is a kiss that means goodbye, and I wish more than anything it didn’t mean goodbye forever.
When we finally break apart, she slips my gift into the front pocket of her backpack before slinging it over her shoulder. “I guess it’s time for me to go.”
I nod, sniffing back another wave of tears. “I’ll walk you to your truck.”
We walk down the path from my house in silence, with our fingers laced together.
If she leaves now, she should make it to Salt Lake before it gets too dark.
I want to tell her to text me when she gets there, but that feels like crossing the invisible line we’ve drawn in the dirt.
As soon as her truck leaves the confines of the ranch, whatever is between us is well and truly over, and I don’t get the privilege of knowing if she made it safely.
My heart sinks when the trailer holding Athena comes into view.
Daddy loaded her up for Addison after breakfast, saying he wanted to make sure everything was safe, but I know he wanted to give us a little more time together.
Everyone else on the ranch already said their goodbyes to her at breakfast, so it’s only us now.
Addison sets her bags in her truck and turns to me, opening her arms. Tears sting my eyes, but I go willingly. I breathe in her clean, minty scent one last time, wishing I could imprint it in my brain. Her nose finds my hair, and I hear her inhale, like she’s doing the same thing.
Calloused hands cup my face, and hazel eyes meet mine, so many emotions shining in them. “You wouldn’t let me say it in the field, and it was okay then because my feelings weren’t as deep at the time, but I need to tell you now.”
My already racing heart picks up speed, and fear grips my heart. “Don’t, please.”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t leave without you knowing, without saying it at least once.
I love you, Juniper Calhoun. I’m honored that you let me in, let me love you, even if we never said the words aloud.
Being with you this summer, falling for you, has been the greatest experience of my life, and our time together is something I will cherish forever. ”
Her words rip me open, and the tears I was holding back burst free along with a sob. Thumbs swipe across my cheeks, wiping the wetness away before soft lips press against my forehead. “I don’t need you to say it back, sunshine. I just need you to know. I’m leaving, but promise me one thing?”
“What?” I croak, barely able to respond.
“Promise me that next time you paint the wildflowers, you’ll remember me.”
Another sob rips from my throat. “You’re all I’ll think about when I see them now. I promise.”
The final kiss we share is tinged with the salty wetness from my tears.
Stepping away from her so she can get in the truck feels like trying to walk through molasses.
My heart is screaming at me, telling me to beg her to stay or take me with her, but my brain knows that won’t work.
My anxiety would drag her down, and she deserves to flourish.
As the truck rumbles to life, my tears flow faster. When she pulls away, waving as she goes, I start to crumble. By the time her taillights disappear and Mama’s familiar scent wraps around me, I can barely hold myself up.
“She’s gone,” I gasp, burrowing myself into her chest. “She told me she loved me, and then she left, and I’ll never see her again.”
I should feel bad for getting tears and snot all over Mama’s shirt, but I can’t find it in myself to care.
Not when my soul is being torn apart. It’s a cruel twist of fate, having the love of your life just for the summer.
Addison Riley tattooed her name on my heart, and there’s no chance of removing it.
“Shhh, I know, baby. I know. Let it all out. I’m right here for whatever you need.” Mama doesn’t tell me it’ll be okay because she knows it won’t help. She simply helps me get inside and sets me on the couch with a glass of ice water.
Hudson is sitting on the floor playing with a farm set Daddy bought him.
His head tilts in question when he sees me and shuffles over, sliding a tan horse that looks a lot like Honeysuckle next to my thigh.
What’s left of my heart nearly bursts, and more tears flow at his thoughtfulness.
His toys comfort him and sharing them is a big step.
He’s been warming up to us. He still doesn’t talk much, only when he’s around the horses. Someone takes him to the barn at least four times a day so he can see them, and he babbles on and on with them. Bry plans on letting him ride one later this week.
“Thank you, Hudson,” I whisper.
His big hazel eyes blink at me before a chubby finger points at my face. “Why you crying?”
“Juniper’s sad right now, but she’ll be okay,” Bry murmurs, giving me a sympathetic smile. “Thank you for sharing your horse with her, I’m sure it makes her feel better.”
I shouldn’t be breaking down in front of her, not when she has everything else weighing her down. I need to pull myself together so I can be here for her and Hudson.
I attempt to smile at Hudson, but I’m sure it comes off as more of a grimace. Done with the conversation, he toddles back over to his toys and plops down on the floor, moving the animals around in a game only he knows.
My sister sits next to me on the couch, wrapping an arm around my shoulder. “I’m not going to tell you that you’ll be okay, and I won’t ask about her right now, but someday I’d like to know about her. Until you’re ready, though, I’m here for you.”
“You’re the one going through something hard. My problems are minuscule in comparison to yours, and—”
Bry shakes her head. “What I’m going through may be rough, but so is heartbreak. Grief doesn’t care if someone else might have it worse. It’ll hit you anyway. We’re both grieving, Juni, and we’re going to need each other. So, lean on me, I’ll lean on you, and we’ll get through this together.”
“I’m glad you’re home, Bry. I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you, too. It’s good to be back, even if the circumstances aren’t ideal. I mean, I never thought I’d be the guardian of a toddler at twenty-eight.”
“The universe has a way of throwing stuff in our paths when we least expect it.”
“You can say that again.”
I spent all day trying to outrun the sadness trying to consume me by following Briar and Mama around.
It didn’t work.
Oakley chattered my ear off at dinner, likely trying to keep my mind off her, but I can tell she misses Addison just as much. I could barely eat anything, and by the time I got home, I was ready to fall asleep. I forced myself to shower and change my sheets so they wouldn’t smell like Addison.
It’s almost two in the morning now, and I can’t keep my eyes closed. My bed feels too empty without her warmth, and there are too many questions running through my head.
Did Addison make it to Salt Lake?
Did she run into any trouble?
What if she got into an accident on the way and she’s alone in a hospital somewhere, with no way to reach us? I’m not her emergency contact, so there’s no reason for anyone to call her former employer to let us know.
What if I had gone with her?
What if I asked her to stay here?
I’m sure there’s somewhere she could train Athena in Copper Creek or the surrounding area.
But would she be happy here long term? She’d have to leave to compete, and I don’t know if my anxiety would let me go with her. Would a relationship survive that?
I shouldn’t be focusing on hypotheticals.
Our time together has ended, and I won’t be seeing her again.
I’ll never feel the rough pads of her fingers trace against my skin, I’ll never hear the rasp in her voice when she wakes up in the morning, and I’ll never see the smile she tries to hide when she sees me after a long day.
I didn’t think I could cry anymore, but a fresh wave of tears builds on my lash line, and I let them glide down my cheeks to soak my pillow. For a moment, I consider texting her to make sure she’s alive and okay, but I don’t know if that’s crossing the line.
I don’t know how I’d react if she didn’t respond.
I know I need to let her go, but for tonight, I’ll let my sadness consume me.
I’ll pick myself up and dust myself off tomorrow.