Chapter 35
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
NOW
I spend the next few days at home, avoiding my mother as much as possible without giving Annie a reason to worry. It would seem I’m also avoiding Wells, because I haven’t responded to the text he sent yesterday asking me how I’m feeling. I wasn’t sure if he’d meant after our dinner at June’s or the conversation we shared in the pasture. Either way, I don’t know what to say about any of it.
Still, he’s all I think about: in the early mornings as the sun heats up the sky; in the afternoons, when the cold winter air smells of earth and pine, wrapping around me as I walk through our neighborhood with Annie; at dusk, when the shadows of the fleeting sun whisper sweet nothings and beckon me in. For nearly six years, I was more than content with his place in my life. But now . . . it was so foolish to think that’s where he’d stay.
My flight back to New York is in two days, and my anxiety about leaving grows with every passing minute. I know I need to be there, that the distance and space will be good for me as I process through both my grief and my budding feelings for Wells. School will be the perfect distraction. So will Chantal and my other friends. But despite all of that, I don’t feel ready to go. So much of my life feels up in the air, and none of the pieces show any signs of coming back down.
I know I can’t avoid Wells forever. We need to have an honest talk about everything that’s happened and what it means for the future, and we’re losing precious time. So I take a chance and ask Barry if I can borrow his old Lexus—the one that’s been sitting in the garage, mostly untouched. I have a hunch he’s saving it for Annie and likely won’t say it because of what that means for me, but right now I don’t care—I just know I can’t ask my mom for her car after our fight.
Thankfully, he yields the keys to me without issue, and I head to the store to gather supplies before eventually pulling up in front of the cabin at the ranch. Wells isn’t there—I figured he’d be working—but I let myself through the unlocked door anyway and get to work.
An hour later, the front door opens, and my body tenses in the awareness of him. But I keep my focus on the task at hand. “Layla?” I hear him ask.
I brave a turn and find Wells already moving toward me, pushed-up sleeves along tan forearms, brows slightly bunched as a bemused smile splashes across his sun-soaked face. He’s been riding today; I can tell from his windblown hair and easy gait. He’s found a little relief in the one thing he loves most. The one place he’s wholly, viscerally himself. “Hi,” I say, suddenly insecure. “I hope it’s okay I let myself in.”
His eyes roam around the room, taking in the empty brown grocery bags on the floor and the food on the stove. And then his focus skims down my body, absorbing the simple cotton sweater and fitted jeans I’m wearing with my favorite embroidered boots. “Of course it is,” he assures. “Are you cooking me food?” he asks. As if the possibility is so out of reach and yet . . . here I am.
“Chicken and dumplings,” I confirm. “My mother’s recipe—it’s my favorite.”
“That so?” he teases, humming appreciatively at the pan on the burner.
“Mhmm,” I say back. My eyes catch on the way he looks at me, like I’ve just unlocked some new level of . . . this . . . so I busy myself with grabbing the salt and pepper to sprinkle over the gravy.
But he crowds into me, gently steering me back from the hot stove until my hips hit the island in the middle of the kitchen. He ducks his face down toward my neck and breathes me in. “Careful, sunshine,” he murmurs low. “I might get used to this.”
My blood thrums in response to how close he is, and I have to swallow the desire it’s igniting. “I um . . .” I close my eyes, focusing on the words I need to say. “I did it to thank you,” I force out. “For everything you’ve done for me.”
I see how his body flinches, and he slowly pulls himself back to look at me. “Thank me?” he repeats, confused.
“Yes,” I confirm.
The light in his eyes dims and he sucks down a deep breath. “Is that the kind of ‘thank you’ that comes right before a goodbye?” he asks, and my skin grows cold with the loss of the heat between us.
“My flight back to New York is coming up,” I concede. “I leave early in the morning, the day after tomorrow.”
A heavy disappointment splinters through his features, but he’s quick to wipe it away. “Oh,” he says, nodding like this doesn’t wreck him. “Okay.”
I set the wooden spoon I’m holding on the counter, and sigh. “It’s just school, Wells. I can’t not go back.”
“I’d never want to stop you from going,” he states firmly. “I think NYU is one of the best things you’ve done for yourself.”
Surprise catches in my throat. “You do?”
He nods. “Yeah, I do.”
I let that sink in. Everything it means to me.
Jason wanted me to follow him to Texas A&M, to shape my life outside of Saddlebrook Falls around him. And I can’t help but think that if I’d done it, he might not have ever cheated on me. I know it’s not a fair thought, that I can’t blame myself for his choices. But it’s one that’s taken hold at some point over the last couple of weeks.
If I had followed him, maybe his life wouldn’t have derailed.
Maybe he’d even still be alive.
But where would that’ve left me? Naively in the arms of a man who, at his core, would choose his own selfish tendencies over me?
And Wells . . . he’d still be harboring the weight of his secret. Suffering through so much, navigating a deep shame and a commitment to do the right thing.
“I’m not running from this,” I say, anchoring back into the moment. “I don’t want you to think that’s what this is about.”
His fingers reach to brush along my cheek before he pulls back, like a reflex he has to fight. “I wouldn’t blame you if you were,” he says honestly, and it stabs me right in the chest.
“I’m not,” I say again with conviction. “But . . . I can’t deny the space will be helpful.” The admission flares brightly in my throat, uncomfortable and cramped. Because I know the implications of it.
If we do this, it’s going to mean something to me.
He nods again, face tight.
“I’m sorry.” The words spill out without warning—he needs to know this isn’t about him. “I’m not saying it’s the end of . . . this. Just that I need a second . . . I need to think?—”
“Don’t,” he whispers. “Don’t you dare apologize to me. You have nothing to be sorry for.”
I close my eyes and lift my face, feeling the expanse of his jaw delicately slide along my cheek. “Do you regret it?” It’s a question that’s been burning on my tongue.
His eyes widen and then soften as he presses his thumb into my bottom lip. “No, of course not. Never in a million years would I regret what we did.” Relief sinks deep in my chest. He takes a deep, grounding breath and continues. “I think your need for space is a good thing—there are a lot of emotions here. I—I think it’ll be good for me, too. It’s hard to put into words, but . . . you’ve always been his. Never mine. And I’ve been trying to figure out how to reconcile that.”
I nod, knowing exactly what he means. A tectonic shift has taken place, one that changes everything. And we need a pause to come to some resolutions.
“Do you think we can really make this work?” I dare to ask. “Do you think we could . . . actually do this?”
My heartbeat skips when he smiles. “Layla,” he whispers close to my cheek, his wintergreen breath curling around my ear. “I’m learning that when it comes to you, I don’t know what I’m capable of. But I have to admit—I look forward to finding out.”
I smile, too, and lean into his chest. He wraps his strong arms around me, and I can smell the horse he was on today. The field he rode in.
“You’ve already pushed me so far beyond my boundaries,” he says into my hair. “At the beginning, I thought my attraction to you was just something physical. You were this gorgeous freshman who walked into my math class, and I . . . I had so many thoughts about all the ways I wanted to get to know you. And then you showed up to the ranch with Jay and I knew I had to back down—but the thoughts never stopped. They were always there, a low churning in the back of my mind that I could never get relief from.
“When you fainted after we lost state, I fucking lost my mind , Layla. I was beside myself, totally out of control, carrying you to the medic team?—”
“Wait,” I gasp. “ You carried me off the field?”
His eyes sharpen. “You didn’t know?”
I shake my head. “I thought it was Jason . . . my mom let me believe . . .” I trail off.
His eyes grow wistful. Almost sad. “It’s okay. It was probably better that way. I acted inappropriately. I’m surprised Jason never came for me then, but he was so wrapped up in the loss?—”
“No.” I shake my head. “I’ve been lied to enough.” A tendril of humiliation weaves through my gut, knowing all the ways Jason lied to me. The ways my mom manipulated me. “I want the truth. Always. Okay?”
“You’ll always have it from me,” he promises. “Actually,” he adds, eyes bouncing to my boots, “there’s something else that’s always bothered me . . .”
“What? ”
The right side of his mouth lifts, but his eyes grow wistful. “Those boots.”
I exhale, already knowing where this is going. “Jason never knew I wanted them,” I say. “But you did.”
He nods once. “I asked Melody for them for your birthday . . . but then I chickened out.” He lets out a humorless laugh. “I brought it up to Jason, told him Melody wanted you to have them, even told him he could say they were from him.”
I shake my head. “Why would you do that?”
He shrugs. “I wanted you to have them, even if you never knew where they really came from. But every time you wear them . . . it’s always been a little hard to swallow.”
Tears well in my eyes and I pull him into a hug. His arms are warm and strong as they wrap around me—this tender man who’s been hiding his feelings for so long, trying to protect the people he loves most.
I sigh into his shirt. “Let’s enjoy the time we have left. Pretend that I’m not leaving?”
He pulls back, a small smile playing on his lips. “Anything you want.”
I move back to the food, focusing on the gravy when I say, “Maybe I could stay here until I leave?”
He pauses. “Won’t your family want to see you?”
I shrug. “I’ll go back at some point to say goodbye to Annie, but . . . my mom and I got into a pretty big fight when you dropped me off the other morning. I don’t really care to see her if I can avoid it.”
“Shit,” he mutters, coming up behind me, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. “How bad was it?
“She’s worried you’re corrupting me,” I admit. “That spending time with you will stamp away any potential I might have of being available to a more fitting suitor.”
“Damn,” he says, shaking his head. I turn just in time to catch the flicker of pain in his eyes. But then he wipes it away with a teasing smile. “Well, too bad for her, because ruining every other man’s chance at you is exactly what I intend to do.” There’s an edge to the way he says it. When his eyes drop to his feet, I realize what it is: fear.
Like he still doesn’t believe he could deserve this. Deserve me .
“I don’t care what my mother says, Wells.” I press my hand to his chest, right over his heart. “You know that. She doesn’t know you like I do. She doesn’t know that you’re where I feel most like myself. Where I’m most at ease.”
“I can’t give you the life you may have had with Jason,” he says carefully. “I already told you, the ranch is where I belong. I’m not going back to school.”
I nod. “I know. That doesn’t matter to me. Jason is the one who made success so specific.”
Wells expels a breath, crossing his arms over his chest. “For what it’s worth, that shit never sat right with me, Layla. His dreams were so big and important and . . .” He looks at me with a soft earnestness. “My dreams were always of you. It’s what scares me the most, that it’ll tear me apart when you go.”
I stare at him until my eyes burn. Until a tear rolls down my cheek. He watches it trail down my face, his expression crestfallen. I turn back to the counter, pulling two plates toward the stove. “It’s just a few months,” I say. “I’ll be back by summer.”
I don’t admit that I’m terrified to leave him, too. That he’s already obliterated my heart .
“Come here,” he murmurs as he gently pulls on my elbow, tethering me back into his chest. He turns us so that I’m backed against the island, and then he lifts me onto it, positioning himself between my legs. At this height we’re eye level, and his are determined. “Promise me that when you leave, you do whatever you need to make yourself happy,” he says, cupping my face. “Have fun, enjoy your friends . . . Promise me that you’ll be selfish, and don’t worry about anything or anyone else.”
My chest squeezes so tight, I think it might burst. “I promise,” I whisper.
He watches my mouth as I say the words. “Good.” He nods. “But until you go, you’re mine , sunshine.” His hand moves to the back of my head as he pulls me in for a scorching kiss. I wind my fingers through his hair, memorizing the way he feels against me, the warmth he pours into me.
It doesn’t take long before he’s unzipping my jeans and reaching in, finding me wet enough to be embarrassed—but I’m not. Not with him. I yank on his belt loops until his hips are right between my thighs, making quick work of his button and zipper until I can feel his need heavy in my hands.
Soon he presses into me, and it feels like free falling. Like we’ve climbed to the top of the highest canyon and jumped off the edge with no regard for what comes next. Nothing matters except for the beat of our hearts and the feel of him moving inside of me as we chase the high that only this will bring. And when I come in a furious white-hot ecstasy that robs me of my breath, he sputters his release inside of me shortly after, and the truth crashes through me like a hurricane.
I love him.
I love him more than I’ve ever loved anything in my whole life.