Chapter 34
Chapter Thirty-Four
Dylan was kicking himself the entire drive back to the ranch. Why hadn’t he walked away when Brodie sidled up? Why had he agreed to play?
Pride.
He thumped the steering wheel. What a fool.
He had wanted to show that he was better than Brodie. He had wanted to play in front of Willow—liked her being there watching.
He drove too fast down the unkempt driveway, the van jarring against the potholes with pleasing discomfort.
When he strode up to the house, he kicked one of the old chairs on the veranda and thumped the wall.
Then he stood with his back against the peeling wood, fists clenched above his head, eyes closed.
He kept seeing Brodie’s face in his head warning him to keep his filthy hands off Willow, reminding him he was trash.
If he hadn’t felt anything for her, then he could have shrugged the insults off. He didn’t care what Brodie Carter said in a football game. But it was the truth that stung; Willow and her dad in his shiny new truck on one side of the fence, Dylan on the other.
He thought of the photographs he’d seen online when he’d looked her up, the poise and elegance she had onstage.
She defied the laws of nature, balancing on the points of her toes wearing delicate layers of shimmering silk, while he brushed his teeth outside his van in the morning, wearing a hat, jeans, and no top.
He bashed the wall again, felt the frustration inside himself, the desire he’d had to stride right back over to Brodie and slam him hard in the chest. Have to be pulled apart like they were at school.
Elvis loped over and leaned against his calf.
Dylan pushed himself off the wall with a sigh, bent down and gave the dog a scratch.
When he stood up again, he caught a glimpse of his own reflection in the cracked glass of the front door, saw the empty hallway behind, the corner of the kitchen unit, the base of the staircase.
It was like he’d gone back in time. He felt a clawing suffocation in his chest and his palms started to sweat.
On instinct, he turned and jogged down the veranda steps, and kept walking till his view of the house was obscured by the horse barn. Elvis trotted alongside.
In the paddock, Thunder was grazing happily.
She came over to see him as soon as he approached and Dylan felt himself getting instantly calmer.
He went into the barn, cupped his hands under the tap and drank some water, washed his face; then, drying it with the sleeve of his T-shirt, he stood up and rolled his shoulders back.
Felt what he realized had been fear start to recede.
It was then that he heard a car drive onto his property and walked out the barn to see Willow getting out of her rental, hair glowing like fire in the sunlight as she looked around for him.
He fought the instinct to step back into the shadow of the barn, maybe quickly saddle up Mercury and get out of there. To make doubly sure he didn’t, he put his thumb and forefinger in his mouth and whistled, the noise echoing around the mountains.
Willow immediately looked over and when she saw him, she seemed to pause for a second.
He felt himself wanting to hold the moment in time, as if by keeping the distance between them they could keep things as they were, go back to how it had been at Diamond Creek.
But then he watched her take a breath, sweep her hair up and tie it in a knot before walking over in his direction.
“I warn you,” she said when she got close enough to him, “that’s the only time I’ll be whistled at.”
He laughed and felt the tension ease.
She stopped in front of him, head tilted to one side as she studied his face. “I’m sorry about Brodie.”
He smiled and shook his head. “Don’t worry about it.”
She nodded as if that was what she’d expected him to reply.
Neither of them said anything. They felt suddenly like awkward strangers.
Willow looked away at the view of the mountains and wildflowers.
She was wearing her leggings and an oversized navy sweater.
He thought about her clothes strewn over the floor of his van.
Had to close his eyes for a second to focus.
Thought of Brodie hurling insults instead.
“You wanna walk?” Willow asked.
Dylan nodded.
They wandered together toward the wildflower meadow, the long grass singed from the summer, the petals drifting from flowers as they brushed past. They stopped where the land raised up and sat down side by side, facing back toward the paddock and the barn and the house behind it.
Dylan sat with his forearms draped over his bent knees, Willow cross-legged, hands neatly in her lap.
The air was cool but the sun was bright in the cloudless sky making the leaves on the trees glimmer gold and catching the dirty white paint of the house.
“I hate this place,” he said into the silence.
She turned to look at him. “I know.”
He looked away down at the grass, plucked a handful of it and let it fall. “This isn’t going to work, Willow.” It made his chest tighten to say it, to glance her way and see the jolt of disappointment on her face.
“Don’t listen to Brodie, Dylan,” she urged.
“It’s not just because of Brodie,” he replied.
“It’s all of it.” He thought of the humiliation of Emmett watching the football from his truck, or knowing that people like Hank Murphy had told Mrs. Rosely to take her business elsewhere when she’d mentioned using Dylan.
“I can’t be here. It was crazy to think I could; it’s all still the same. ”
“No, it’s not,” she tried to disagree.
“Willow, you can’t even tell your family that you came to Diamond Creek!” he said with a laugh; but joke aside, he knew there was more truth behind it than he cared to admit, that the sneaking around only highlighted their differences.
She opened her mouth to defend herself but then didn’t say anything, maybe realized that she couldn’t.
“Listen,” he said, leaning forward, tucking his hair behind his ear, “I don’t want you to tell them anything, believe me, I don’t need that in my life, but I’m just saying that this is too complicated for what it is.”
“It’s just fun,” she said, eyes beseeching.
He shook his head with a smile, knew he was distancing himself, gently nudging her away. “Doesn’t feel so fun anymore.”
He saw her eyes well up and had to look away, felt it in the pit of his stomach, wanted to take it all back but knew that he couldn’t.
When he glanced back, she was composed again, chin raised a touch, no telltale sign of tears anymore. Made him smile inside at himself, that he wanted what he’d seen a second ago back.
“You going to leave?” she asked.
“I’ll stay for the next race, then I’ll…” He hadn’t cemented a plan in his mind until that moment but even staying till the next race suddenly felt like forever. “You know me,” he said ruefully, “don’t like to be any place too long.”
Willow smiled a little sadly, but it seemed to ease the feeling between them, like they both knew this was the right thing. She sat forward, wrapping her arms around her bent knees. “You think you’ll stop moving sometime?” she asked.
He laughed. “No.”
That made her laugh. He felt it the same as when he thought she might be crying. Like her emotions were now his. The realization was enough to make him know that leaving was the only option.
She pushed herself up to standing, brushing the dirt from the ground off her leggings. “I should get going.”
Dylan stood up, too. He found himself fighting the urge to haul her toward him and kiss her, to mess up her neatly tied hair, to ignore every instinct that told him this was for the best. “I’ll walk you to your car.”
She nodded.
Neither of them spoke as they walked back across the field, though Dylan stole a few glances at her profile; the slight upturn of her nose, the sharp lines of her cheekbones, the perfect arches of her brows. Tried to commit it all to memory.
When they passed the paddock, Willow turned to look at Thunder but didn’t go over. Even Elvis didn’t join them when they reached her car, but sat up and watched from where he lay on the front porch.
She opened her car door, stood with one hand on the frame. “It was fun while it lasted,” she said.
He kept his hands in his pockets so he wouldn’t do anything stupid. “It was.”
She got in the car and started the engine, smiling softly up at him in a way that made his chest ache.
“Bye, Willow,” he said as she hit reverse.
“See you around, Hawkins,” she called, then she was gone.