Ever since Dad left three days ago, Jacob and I had fallen into a different rhythm. Trying on new personas to see which would cause the least amount of friction, while pretending we were okay with whatever mess existed between us.
There were so many things we hadn’t addressed—topics that were banished to a coffin of unmentionables, just like my questions on death. Life had moved on, pretending to be simple but really paving a treacherous road over complicated.
I’d seen him watching me as I’d kissed Dad goodbye.
I’d kept watching him as Dad kissed me in return.
His body clamped up, his lips thinned, his eyes became unreadable.
But I could read him.
He saw so many kisses.
He saw so much affection.
He saw endless ways to be hurt.
And he’d shut down even more.
His withdrawal made me miss my dad a lot.
I wanted advice. I wanted acceptance. Working beside my father until well past midnight the other day—laughing at his city ways and doting on his exhaustion of hauling hay—all reminded me that love wasn’t something to be fought.
It was something to be valued, appreciated, protected.
But once again, I’d hurt him just like I’d hurt Jacob.
I’d hurt two men just by being myself.
I wasn’t my father’s Little Lace anymore. And I wasn’t leaving like Jacob wanted.
All in all, I was a disappointment to everyone.
How sad was that? So sad that neither men could understand I didn’t intentionally cause them pain.
I was just being me.
I was growing into who I wanted to be.
If others didn’t like that…where did that leave me?
Alone?
Not wanted?
Forever having to fake who I was to please them?
Jacob huffed. “It weighs as much as you do.”
“As if you know how much I weigh.”
He stalked toward me, eyeing me up and down. Before I could get out of his way, he scooped me from the ground and held me and the sack of feed. “Yep, just as I suspected. Same as the grain.”
“Hey, put me down.” I wriggled in his embrace, making him stiffen.
He dropped me to my feet, then plucked the feed from my grip without any effort. Meanwhile, my body tingled from where he’d touched me, and I felt a hundred times heavier with need.
I could stay at Cherry River my entire life. I could hang around with Jacob until I was old and grey and a total spinster with a hundred cats, yet he still wouldn’t drop his guard for anything more than polite acquaintances.
However, the fact he’d just willingly touched me in a public place was shocking. But then again, the reason he had wasn’t.
He was old-fashioned; raised with a gentleman’s code even if it was a little outdated. Now his back was on the mend, he didn’t let me do any heavy lifting. If he deemed me too fragile for a task, he grew gruff and bossy until I let him do it.
To start with, I’d fought for equality.
In the end, I’d given up.
It wasn’t worth the argument even though I was more than capable.
Crossing my arms, standing in the middle of the massive warehouse where tractor parts, fence equipment, veterinary supplies, and stock feed loomed high on industrial shelving, I narrowed my eyes. “If you’ve taken yet another job from me, what exactly is there left to do before we go home?”
Home.
Cherry River was only a ten-minute drive away, but I missed it already.
I missed its open spaces and blue skies and peaceful serenity.
The local township wasn’t big, but it still held concrete and glass and people. People who smiled friendly-like but couldn’t hide their edge whenever they looked at Jacob.
“If you’re so willing to be of service, head inside and grab some powdered mag and Epsom salts.”
“Powdered what now?”
“Magnesium.”
“For…?”
“For the horses who get crazy from grass. And before you ask, the Epsom salts are in case any of the herd brews an abscess or two.”
“Right.” Nodding with importance, I gave him a smile. “I can do that.”
“Good.” Jacob winced as if already afraid of the word I could say in response.
The word that opened old wounds and prevented scars from forming over age-old pain.
I swallowed it down, whispering it to myself instead.
Fine.
“What’s next after this?” I asked, deliberately changing the subject and allowing Jacob’s tension to unravel.
He studied me with narrowed eyes before muttering, “I suppose we could go eat before returning to Cherry River.”
“Eat, as in eat in a restaurant?”
He rolled his eyes. “Yes, in a restaurant. That a problem?”
I hid the bubbly joy working its way through my bloodstream. “No problem. I haven’t had a burger and fries in forever.”
I swallowed more words I knew he wouldn’t approve of.
I’ve never been out in public with you before.
I never thought you’d take me out.
Could this be classified as a date?
Could lunch between two people who’d known each other forever, worked together every day, and shared a kiss mean something other than just ‘getting food?’