I close my eyes and focus on the steady movement of his chest. In and then out. Slow and strong. I need this, I need him, and I’m terrified he’ll let go.
“I’m sorry I went out with him,” I whisper.
Jesse sighs heavily. “Don’t be. I’m sorry I was angry. I didn’t have the right.”
“You were right. I was testing you. I—”
“Stop it. I was being a stupid, jealous ass and that’s not a reason to be angry, nor should I have taken it out on you.”
Stunned, I blink at his words. “Why were you jealous?”
His shoulders move up then down. “I can’t say I understand much going on between us, but I’ll ask you this—how would you feel if I went on a date with another girl?”
I stiffen, and he lightly chuckles, no doubt sensing my change. “Don’t worry. I don’t understand it either.”
I cuddle closer to him and breathe in his familiar scent. I don’t want to think about him with other girls or me with other boys or even try to wonder why the idea bothers either of us. We can hardly handle being friends. What happens if we wander into the category of more?
Our silence stretches, but it’s not awkward or weird, but comforting. My thoughts are lazy, jumping from one place to another, and then I think of the night he promised that if I did venture out that he would show me something special. Something that could …
“Can you make me better?” I whisper. “You said there was something you could show me that makes you better when things are hard.”
Jesse lightly traces his fingers along the skin of my arm, and I tremble again. Not from cold, but from the alien and desirable sensations his touch creates. He presses his cheek against the top of my head, and I wish I had kept my mouth shut, as I love this bubble we’ve created.
“I can’t make anyone better,” he says. “But I can show you what helps me.”
I lift my head and look into his eyes. He’s serious. Very serious. His red hair covers his forehead, and I sweep it away. But before letting my hand drop, I take a risk by allowing my fingertips to touch his face. His eyes darken and my heartbeat quickens. “Will you take me?”
He nods and offers me a hand to help as I push off of the ground.
JESSE
I hold Scarlett’s hand as we hike. What I like is that she holds my hand back. Cool, silky-soft skin laced with my hot, callused fingers. Her grip is relaxed, as if touching me is as easy as breathing. For me, her touch settles portions of my constant internal chaos.
As we walk, sometimes her bicep slips against mine, and she’s close enough that I can smell her sweet perfume. The scent reminds me of the honeysuckle we used to eat down by the creek. It also makes me want to gather her in my arms, and never let go.
We’re quiet on the walk and the silence gives me needed time to process and recapture my own demons that had slipped through the cracks due to her admission. A growling in my head, and I hold her hand tighter.
So many questions and things I want to ask, but she doesn’t need me demanding answers. I know what it’s like to be hurt like she has. As if you’re a shadow on the wall attached to the horror. Your pain is the ghost of the smack you witnessed, but it’s still pain. Just a different type of pain. Your body may not be cut or bruised, but your soul is ripped apart all the same.
Part of me expects her to slow up when we start for the towering sugar maple in the middle of the field, but she doesn’t. She keeps pace as if she’s also called to this old tree like I have been since the day I learned to walk. This tree marks the center of the property, it’s the heart, and when I hurt, this is where I come to relearn how to breathe.
The grass barely reaches our calves and bends easily under our feet. With each step we take toward the maple, the heartbeat of this land trembles within my veins. It’s a familiar sensation. One I can’t imagine living without.
Walking under the maple’s protective leaves, Scarlett stops and her gaze roams to the same branch that has haunted my dreams since the summer before our freshman year. The moon casts a soft glow, giving everything a hazy grayish coloring.
“Do you remember the last time we were here?” she asks in a hushed tone. She releases my hand as she hugs herself. The memory probably scaring her like it still haunts me.
“Yeah.” I remember every second as if it were yesterday. I remember racing through the field, how she outran me, how she scaled this tree with such ease that I was jealous, how she climbed higher and higher, and how I egged her to continue to the very top.
Then I remember the crack of the branch, the horrible tightness in my chest, her terrified expression as her head jerked down to look at me for help. Her wide eyes desperate for confirmation that the worst wasn’t about to happen. Then she fell.
Fell.
My mouth still goes dry with fear.
She fell hard, she fell fast, crashing through limbs and leaves. She screamed, I yelled and I remember that the first few seconds of my jumping from my branch to capture her felt like flying.
Flying.
After I jumped, I wrapped my arms around her and wished that we were flying, that I could save her, save us. That flying sensation ended when I hit the ground.
I took the brunt of the fall. Me on my back, her in my arms, blood gushing from my chin. To this day, I don’t know what I hit to cause that gash.
“How did we survive that fall?” she says in a whisper. “I was too high. Higher than I had ever been. I should have stopped climbing, but I loved the rush and didn’t want it to end, and then I heard the crack.”
She chokes up and my windpipe thickens.
“I would have died if you hadn’t caught me. You risked your life to save mine.”
I will always risk everything to save her. She didn’t know it then. She doesn’t know it now. Scarlett once said she was empty. I’ve never been empty. I’ve been loved, and I’ve loved in return, but I don’t do it with many. She was one of the few. Still is. Always will be.
I reach out and touch the bark of the tree. “My mom once told me that as long as I love this land, the land will take care of me.”
She raises a skeptical eyebrow. “Are you saying the land saved us that day?”
Yes. I don’t believe in a lot, but I do believe that, and I don’t think Scarlett will so I avoid her question. “Whenever life gets to be too much, I come here. My land makes me better, and I think it can help you, too.”
She frowns. “Of course it helps you. This is your land.”
“It’s your land, too,” I say, and this causes her to laugh.
“No, it’s not.”
“You were born on it.” That doesn’t make her cursed because she’s not a Lachlin, and it doesn’t make it safe for her to be with me, but being born on this land created a connection between her and it. She’s always had a way of seeing this farm in ways others can’t. This property has embraced her, and I’m convinced it saved her that day all those years ago.
She narrows her eyes, probably ruing the day she told me how her mom waited at home for her father to take her to the hospital. She thought the labor with her first child would be long, but it was short. So short Scarlett was born in their front yard. “I was born at home.”
“Yeah, but the land your house sits on used to belong to the Lachlins.”
“So?”
“This land…” I stop and try to find the right words to make her understand. Hell, I can’t make myself understand. The best way would be to show her.
I hold out my hands to her, and she gives me a skeptical tilt of her head. “Jesse, this land is just land. It’s land you love, but I don’t see how it’ll make me better.”
“Trust me on this,” I say.
“Fine.” She places her hands in mine, and standing there in defiance is the force of nature who used to rule my land by my side. Strong, confident and full of trust.
I move us a safe distance away from the tree. “Spin with me.”
“Spin?” Fire lights up her express
ion. “Like we’re five?”
“Yeah, like we’re five.”
“You’re crazy.”
“Might be, but that doesn’t change a thing.”
Her smile grows. My God, she’s gorgeous. With a flutter of her eyelashes, like she’s the one about to pull massive mischief, she tugs on my hands, and we spin.
SCARLETT
As if we’re carefree children again, we hold on to each other’s hands and go faster and faster in a circle. Wind whips my cheeks, the world swirls around me, becoming one big blur, and all thoughts fall out of my head in a rush of dizziness.
Centrifugal force causes my head to fall back, my arms to strain, for me to have to fight to keep Jesse’s hands in my own. The harder it becomes, the tighter Jesse holds on and I gasp for air as my lungs pump violently in my chest.
As the spinning enters another level, when my feet can no longer keep up, Jesse releases me, and I continue to rotate, but with no control. As if I’m the moon that has fallen off its axis. My feet try to concrete themselves into the ground, but my head is too heavy. I stumble and continue to turn, but then I remember the game. The goal is to fall.
So I do. My head is pillowed against the soft grass, my back supported by the land, my arms and legs stretched out, taking up as much space as I can. A plop beside me, and one of Jesse’s fingers touches mine. “Close your eyes, Tink.”
I do, and it’s as if my soul leaves my body as I strangely move and float though the solid ground is beneath me.
“Do you feel it?” Jesse asks. “Do you feel the earth turning?”
“Yes.” My entire body moves east, sliding along with the rhythm of the universe. I love this sensation. I’ve felt it before as a child. My soul slips away into the warm ground, my muscles lose their tension and the sweet memory of youth gathers me close in a hug.
I take in the welcome scent of cut grass, turned-over soil and the blooming wildflowers near the creek. A happy and contented sigh leaves my lips. Jesse was right. This was what I needed.
The glorious state of the earth moving fades, and Jesse caresses my wrist. “Stay there. Keep your eyes closed.”
His fingers trail up and down my arm and the sensation tickles, causing pleasing goose bumps along my skin. There’s a safety that radiates from his touch. A safety I wish I could take with me wherever I go.
“Now focus,” he says. “Do you feel it?”
“The world turning?” I say. “Not so much anymore.”
“No. Beyond that. The earth is breathing.”
I settle into the ground as if the grass beneath me were a soft mattress and the stars above a homemade quilt. I reach out with my mind and try to discover Jesse’s beyond. Discover if this “breathing” is an aftershock of spinning.
Concentrating so hard on anything beyond myself, I discover that the entire world surrounding us is alive. The crickets singing, the bats chirping and the owl calling out into the night. I strain to listen further and hear the quiet trickle of the creek lapping over the smooth rocks and the gentle breeze stirring through the leaves. The grass beneath my arms tickles my skin, the wind kisses my face and the taste of honeysuckle is sweet on my tongue.
“If you focus, you can sense the earth trying to suck us in with an inhale and then the gentle push of the exhale,” he says in this deep, melodic tone. “This land, Tink, it’s alive. The root systems, the veins; this very place that we lay, the heart. It has a heartbeat, a rhythm, and you and me, we’re a part of it. It’s alive, it’s breathing and it loves. Every time life spirals out of control, I come here, I lay down and I feel the land breathe with me.”
I suck in a deep breath and the rush of clean air fills my lungs. I hold it, longer than needed, and then there’s a surprised jolt. A pulse nudges me from the ground below. A gentle tug, then a tender push. My eyes shoot open when the sensation happens again. It’s a breath.
The land breathed.
Jesse’s fingers drift to my wrist, the pads of his fingers delicately press upon my pulse, and I mirror his touch. My fingers sink into his hot skin and a shiver runs through me as I discover his heartbeat. It’s strong, bold and exhilarating. Just like Jesse, my Peter Pan.
My heart beats, his heart beats and beneath us the land breathes in, it breathes out, and a rush fills my blood. I close my eyes again as a sensation like no other makes me feel as if I’m flying. As if my body is a permanent part of the land and my soul is free.
Free. No longer weighed down by my problems or the world. No longer trapped by my life and by my skin. Free. Flying and free.
I soar, and happiness sweeps through me like the wind through my hair. Tears of joy prick my eyes, and I grasp Jesse, terrified if he lets go, if I let go, that I’ll never experience happiness again. I want this happiness. I want to forever soar.
“Jesse,” I whisper, and there’s a catch in my voice, emotion overwhelming me. “It’s…” I can’t find the words to describe this rare and beautiful buoyant sensation.
A shifting beside me and a caress across my cheek. “Don’t cry, Tink.”
I swallow as I open my eyes and find Jesse’s concerned gaze. He’s propped up on an elbow, his body grazes mine and I’m hypnotized by his closeness. “I’m not crying.”
He inclines his head as wet tears slip down my cheek, but I smile, giggle even. As he starts to pull his hand away, I place my fingers over his, pressing to keep his hand against my cheek. “I’m not sad. It’s … this place is so … beautiful.”
Jesse’s thumb slides against my skin, and I become pure liquid. “You’re beautiful.”
My skin heats from his words and shyness makes it tough to keep my gaze locked with his, but I do. “Thank you for sharing this with me.”
“I can’t think of anyone else I’d share this with.”
“Surely you’ve shown someone else. One of your friends…” I trail off, but the serious set of his green eyes tells me the truth. I’m the only one.
Another slow swipe of his thumb across my cheek and then Jesse tucks a stray hair behind my ear. His fingers linger along my neck and the touch is so pleasing that liquid heat spreads to the tip of my toes.
“There’s no one who has ever gotten me the way you do. No one who understands this land like you either. I’ve messed up in the past, but I promise, I won’t mess up again. I’m here, and I promise I’m never going away.”
His words are like soothing herbs on an old wound. We were friends, we fell apart, but we’re friends again. As his fingers continue their leisurely, seductive dance along my arm, I peer deeper within myself. There’s something more than friendship between us. A trust and love that had taken root when we were children, something that has grown, something that once took a wrong turn and had to be pruned. Something that has been allowed to reflourish and is on the verge of going wild.
“I’ve missed you,” I whisper as I reach up to touch his face. The stubble of his chin tickles against the pads of my fingers, and a sensation of power and pleasure runs through me as he tilts his head into my touch.
Jesse edges nearer and my hand combs through his hair. His lips come close. So close.
“I missed you, too,” he says against my mouth.
I lick my suddenly dry lips. “I’ve never kissed anyone before.”
“You’re the only girl that I’ve ever cared for, the only girl I’ve wanted to kiss.”
If my heart fluttered any faster it would spread wings and fly.
“Can I kiss you?” he murmurs, and his lips are so near that the warmth of his breath caresses my lips.
Happiness explodes through me, and I nod, causing my lips to brush against his. He cradles my head in his hand, leans down and kisses me.
Kisses.
I can scarcely breathe. Kissing is warm, kissing is soft, kissing Jesse Lachlin is the closest I have ever felt to being alive, the closest I have ever felt to being comfortable in my own skin, the closest I have ever been to heaven.
My entire body becomes liquid, pliant, as I m
emorize each way his lips press against mine. I burn, head to toe, and the rush through my veins becomes so strong that it’s like clinging to a flame. A flame that I love, a flame that frightens me because it’s new, a flame I want to cuddle and hold for as long as I can.
Jesse takes my lower lip into his, a thrill races through me, and I pull back, excited and happy. I open my eyes as Jesse opens his. His face shines as bright as the millions of stars that rest in the night sky.
He takes my hand as he rolls to his back and guides me to rest my head on his chest. Jesse wraps his arms around me, I wrap my arms around him, and I close my eyes and listen to his heartbeat. I lose myself in the steady sound that shares the same rhythm as his land.
“We’re going to be okay, aren’t we?” I whisper, and it’s not a question, but a statement, a fact. A declaration of this sense of peace and purpose in my soul.
“Yes.” Jesse kisses the top of my head. “This was meant to be, Tink. We are meant to be.”
JESSE
The surprised expression on Glory’s face is enough to have made my day. Every ounce of me wants to gloat that I got one up on the “psychic,” but I don’t. I need her help, and in my experience, people only help if they feel like they’re getting something out of the deal.
“Marshall’s on his way,” I say, then lift the bag in my hand. “I brought doughnuts.”
In Hello Kitty PJs, Glory runs a hand through her long mane of unruly bed-head hair, pausing to scratch near her ear. It’s near nine on Saturday morning. For as long as I’ve known Glory, she’s a late-night, sleep-in psychic. I’m betting her tricks work better in the dark. Daylight has a way of ferreting out lies.
She yawns as she holds the door open for me, and I step into her cottage. It’s the same combination of neat, clean, yet cluttered with books, rocks and crystals.
I head for the kitchen, but Glory doesn’t follow. Instead she goes into the bedroom and closes the door. There’s shifting and dresser drawers opening and closing. Minutes later, she’s in the bathroom. Water runs from the sink, a toilet flushes, more water from the sink, and I’m impressed when she returns to the kitchen that she’s in full Glory mode: a shimmering skirt, and an off-the-shoulder white blouse. There’s only a hint of drowsiness from my early morning wake-up call.
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