I rubbed my hands together. “It’s cold,” I said, my teeth chattering as I stated the obvious, looking for something to break the tension.
Turner was already busy gathering fallen tree limbs and putting them in the makeshift fire pit. It didn’t take him long to have a small fire started even without a conventional lighter. Flinted rocks were left near the pit for such an occasion.
We sat huddled next to each other on a log. The cold was something I had to get used to. I would be sleeping in a home warmed by a fire or stove. There wasn’t a furnace anywhere in the community.
We stared at each other, and flashing warning signs blinked in my head. The name Kalen was displayed like a marquee in Times Square in my mind. I hadn’t forgotten about my misguided feelings for him, but I was determined to squash them. The asshole had played me, and I wouldn’t let him hurt me anymore.
Looking into Turner’s light brown eyes, unresolved emotions I didn’t know I had for him surfaced.
I’d blindsided him with my choice to leave. And it took a great deal of strength for me to do so. I’d loved him. He’d been my first in many ways. From being my best friend to my first kiss and the first boy to ever touch me in places reserved only for a husband. He was my first everything.
“I’m sorry,” I said simply, twisting the braided metal ring on my right hand.
As if he hadn’t heard my apology, he said, “You’re still wearing it.”
His hand hovered to touch the ring, but at the last second he pulled back. My breath caught because if he’d come any closer, I might have been undone.
He brought up the ring. So I awkwardly blurted, “Are you married?”
His eyes chilled, and since I deserved it, I hastily said, “Never mind. It’s not my business.”
Though I was sure I’d hear the answer to that question the minute I spoke to my parents.
“Did you think I’d wait for you forever?” he asked.
Gone was the boy who had loved me. In his place was the man who hadn’t forgiven my betrayal.
“You’re right. I just wanted to apologize,” I said quietly.
“For what? Leaving scorch marks on my heart, on my soul from the very fire that had made me fall in love with you in the first place.”
My gaze found the ground. “If you knew me out in the world, you wouldn’t say anything about me lit fires.”
Living inside the invisible walls of the community, I’d felt brazen and strong. Outside of it, I’d felt small and unsure. I’d fallen for two guys who’d stomped all over my heart and put out any fire I had. Yet, I felt stronger for it.
I lifted my head to face him and I met him with a steady gaze.
“You were always a girl on fire. You burned through me like a flame with purpose.”
His whispered words melted the snow that fell silently around us.
“Since when have you become a poet?” I said, needing to break the awkwardness that settled between us.
“Since the day you left and I thought if I found the right words, you’d come back.”
I wanted to apologize a thousand ways for leaving him, but the only thing I could think of to say was a simple, “I’m sorry,” I relayed again, feeling the pain I saw in his eyes. My watery gaze held his for a second. “I was young, naïve, reckless, and stupid. If I knew then what I know now, I would have never left.”
“But you did.”
Again, the temperature between us cooled and I couldn’t blame him.
I looked down at myself, though wrapped in a coat, and pictured how far I’d come from the flat-chested girl he’d fallen for to where I was now full of curves. That girl wouldn’t have been wearing the blue lace bra and panties I wore underneath it all. Nor could that girl have ever met the likes of the man who’d bought them.
One thing I’d done in anticipation of my return was pull my hair back into the required bun. Turner reached out and gently brushed his calloused fingertips across my cheek, sending quivers through me before he pulled my hair free.
“I wanted to hate you,” he admitted. “You didn’t trust me enough to tell me first. You were just gone.”
I squeezed my lids shut and answered honestly. “I was a coward.”
I’d also been scared. One thing he hadn’t taken into account was that we didn’t have a lot of alone time as we got older. It wasn’t proper. The stolen moments we did have had been spent doing other pleasurable things when conversation hadn’t been high on our list.
“You were,” he agreed, never one to mince words.
He deserved the truth of all of it. “I was, but I wasn’t afraid to tell you I was leaving as much as I was afraid you’d ask me to stay, which I would have.”