She’s quiet for so long I think she’s going to ignore me, but eventually my patience pays off. “And exactly how long has that been?”
“Let’s start with an easier question,” I say, and she goes to say something, but I hold up my hand. “Like, how come you never sent me a care package? You said you were going to.”
She has the decency to look ashamed as she ducks her head and tucks her dark hair behind her ear. “Short answer? Spite.”
“I thought as much. Still hurt every time Derick opened a box.”
“That’s what I was after,” she admits. “Can’t say I’m proud of acting like a brat, but I was only sixteen at the time.”
“You don’t have to remind me.” I grab her a beer out of the cooler and hand it to her.
“Are you going to tell me why you got so mad at me? You know…” She lets it hang, and I think back to that day in her bedroom.
“What was I supposed to do?”
“You’re avoiding the question.” She looks out onto the water, and I can tell she’s right back in that room with me.
“You were too young for me to be thinking about you like that. I was nineteen and fresh out of boot camp. I was there for one week and I didn’t know if I’d ever see you again.”
“So, you didn’t want to kiss me because you were leaving.” She sounds bitter when she says it.
“No.” My denial is so strong she has no choice but to look at me. “I knew I loved you and I couldn’t have you. I was afraid, Sammy.”
“Don’t you come out here and romance me and tell me you were in love with me since I was sixteen. You had every chance in the world to send me a letter and explain to me why you were so cold. Or better yet, when your ass got out and took the job here. There have been hundreds of moments for you to give me the truth, but instead you’ve played this game where everyone in town knew you wanted me but you never made a move. What am I supposed to say to that, Cyrus? Am I supposed to fall head over heels for a guy who never had the courage to love me?”
She looks away as she spits out the last words. The pain in her voice comes from years of feeling like she wasn’t good enough for me, when that was never the case. Old wounds don’t heal right, and I don’t know if I can fix this. But I’m here to try.
I take her plate of food and set it down beside mine. When I take her chin and make her look at me, I see tears in her eyes.
“Goddamn, you are so beautiful,” I whisper. “But you are so damn hardheaded.”
She laughs and closes her eyes, forcing more tears down her cheeks.
“It was never because you weren’t good enough. You were always too good for me. You’re right that I didn’t have the courage, because I knew you deserve the best. Not some no-name nothing that came from dirt. After I met you, I went back after my leave to make something of myself. I volunteered for every job, took every tour, and worked my way up fast. I wanted to have a nest egg for when I got out so that when I came to make you mine I’d be worthy of your hand. I got the job here because I wanted to make this our home. The place where we raise our kids. But the day I got here, you looked at me like I’d failed you in every way and it broke me. All I ever wanted to do was to take care of you. When I saw that I’d put that anger in your heart I didn’t know how to make it right. So, I let you paint my fence bright pink, and I let you toilet paper the tree in my front yard. I thought by letting you get that anger out of you, you’d have space for me when it was all gone.”
“Cyrus,” she whispers as her hands come up to my chest. “I-I was so hurt.”
“I know, sunshine,” I say, pulling her into my arms and onto my lap. “We were both just kids.”
“What happens now?” she asks as she looks up to me with her beautiful dark eyes.
“We eat this strawberry cake I packed and you tell me all that I missed while I was gone.”
“Strawberry cake? That’s weird. I made one for Mrs. Miller this morning.”
“I know. I bought it from her,” I say and give her a wink.
She pushes my chest playfully, and I fall back on the blanket. I take her down with me so she’s on top. “I couldn’t just bring any old dessert with me. I had to have the best.”