“He doesn’t care about me, Meghan. It was just coincidental.”
She sighed. “Fine. Then what about you? Why were you so eager to go to The Road Block last night, when you knew Alex and Flynn were going to be there?”
“Isn’t it against the Geneva Convention to interrogate a prisoner who’s on the verge of death?” I burrowed into the pillow again.
“Um, first, no, I don’t think it is. Second, you’re not on the verge of death. Third, I’m not interrogating you. I’m just asking questions that might reveal some truths.”
“Well, I’m not ready for it yet. Maybe tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow I’ll be back in Savannah.”
“Bingo.”
Meghan didn’t respond, but I heard the exasperation in her sigh as she stomped out of the room and down the steps. Or maybe it just sounded like she was stomping, since each step reverberated in my pounding brain.
I dozed off and on for the next hour, and by the time I opened my eyes again, the drill team in my head had taken a break and my stomach was more receptive to the idea of food. I sat up, moving slowly and experimentally. When it didn’t kill me, I ventured one hand out to snag a piece of toast. It was cold, but I managed to nibble at it until I got half a slice down. At that point, I felt safe enough to swig some water along with the headache meds.
By noon, I’d crawled out of bed and into the shower. I couldn’t manage anything more ambitious than a pair of sweat pants and an old oversized T-shirt, but at least I was upright. I braided my wet hair into a single plait down my back and descended the steps, into the kitchen.
“She lives!” Meghan still sounded far too chipper as she wiped the counter. “And just in time. I’m getting ready to leave.”
“Isn’t it a little early?” She usually stayed at the farm through Sunday night and drove back to Savannah Monday morning, since she didn’t have an early class.
“Yeah, but my mom and Logan are coming up to visit me tomorrow, and I want to make sure my apartment’s in decent shape.”
“That’s nice.” I eased myself into a kitchen chair. “Are you excited to see them?” Meghan’s mother and her husband, who’d been a lifelong friend of Meghan’s late father, were usually so busy with their restaurant that they didn’t make it up to Savannah often.
“Yeah. Though I’m pretty sure it’s a fact-finding mission disguised as a family visit.”
“What kind of facts?”
“The what-is-Meghan-planning-to-do-after-graduation-this-year facts. They act like they’re laid back and fine with whatever I decide—and they probably are—but they want some definite plans.”
“Well, you’ve got a job already. That’s more than most college grads have.”
“And they’re thrilled with that. I think maybe they just want some assurance that Sam’s intentions toward me are honorable and long-term.” Meghan shook her head. “Like he could ever be anything else.”
“In other words, they want a ring on your finger before you move in with us for real?” I leaned my chin on my hand.
“Maybe. Which is so weird, because my mom’s never been like that. She raised me to be strong and independent, not to need a man to make me complete.”
The kitchen door creaked open, and my brother came in. “You don’t need me to make you complete?” He snagged Meghan’s hand and pulled her in to him.
“How did you hear that? Were you standing outside the door eavesdropping?” She sounded offended, but her hands snaked up to clasp together behind his neck as she fit her body to his.
A pang of wistful envy hit me in the chest. I loved my brother and Meghan, and their happiness made me happy. But it also had the unpleasant side effect of making me painfully aware of my own lacking. The memory of Flynn, standing on the bar last night and playing the air guitar as he belted out one of my favorite Elvis songs, flashed across my mind with odd clarity.
“I wasn’t trying to listen. The window’s open.” Sam kissed the top of her head and winked at me. “Didn’t expect to see you up and around yet. Quite a night you had.”
I laid my head down on my folded arms. “Don’t remind me. It happened, it’s over, let us never speak of it again. The next time I beg you to take me dancing, lock me in my room.”
“I’d like to get that in writing.” Sam rubbed his hand up and down Meghan’s back. “Are you heading out, babe?”
“I am. If you’re sure you’ve got everything covered here.”
“Yeah, we’re good.” But he didn’t make a move to let her go. Instead he looked at me again. “I stopped at the stand on my way back from the fields. Cassie says she’s got everything under control, and she’ll call us if things get too busy. And she said she hopes you feel better.”
I frowned. “What’d you tell her?”
Sam quirked his eyebrow at me. “What, you didn’t want me to tell her you got ripping drunk last night and now you’re hung over?” He smirked. “Don’t worry. I told her you had a little stomach bug.”
“Thanks. Not that she won’t hear what happened from someone else, since no one in Burton knows how to keep their mouth shut.”
“Which isn’t a problem if you know how to behave.” Sam shot me the big-brother glare, but it didn’t carry much heat. I stuck out my tongue at him.
“On that note, I’m out of here.” Meghan wriggled away from my brother and came over to give me a hug. “Feel better, sweetie. Call me tonight and let me know how it goes with Flynn.”
“What? How what goes with Flynn?” Panic sliced through me. What had I forgotten from last night?
“He’s coming over to drop off Bridget later this afternoon, right?”
Crud, he was. I’d blocked that out. “Yeah, so?”
“So I thought he might say something about last night. Maybe you two could start to do something radical, like be honest with each other about how you feel.” She patted my shoulder. “Just something to think about.” She offered her hand to Sam. “Walk me out?”
I put my head back down and concentrating on wishing this day were over. I might’ve fallen asleep again for a minute, but I jumped awake when the door slammed.
“God, Sam, you scared the life out of me.”
“Sorry.” He didn’t sound very contrite as he pulled out a chair to sit across from me. “Do you want to talk about last night?” The way he spoke, I knew he’d rather plow the south forty naked than have this discussion. I toyed with the idea of dragging him through a chick-talk about my feelings and what seeing Flynn dance with that bleach-blonde bimbette had done to me, but in the end, I decided he deserved a break.
“Nah, I’m good. I talked to Meghan. And it really doesn’t matter anyway. I just want to forget it all.” My eyes fell on the counter, where sat the bright blue folder Rilla Grant had given me the day before. That seemed like a good way to change the subject. “Hey, Sam, do you know the Grants?”
He frowned, rubbing the back of his neck. “The ones who have the farm out on 72? Yeah. Well, I know Emmett a little. He was part of the Guild for a while, until they got too liberal for him.”
I raised my eyebrow. “Since when is the Guild liberal?” They were a group of farmers and town businessmen who met to support each other and the community. After our parents had been killed, the Guild had taken Sam under their collective wing and helped us keep the farm. My brother never forgot how much we owed these men.
“Since they decided to meet on a Sunday afternoon once a few years back. Mitch Jones’ daughter had her wedding on the Saturday when we usually got together, and so we voted to postpone to the next day. Emmett left the Guild right then.”
“Sheesh. That seems a little extreme.”
Sam shrugged. “Well, to each his own, and I respect his wishes. I think he was heading toward leaving before that anyway. The whole family is kind of stand-offish. I guess Emmett’s wife ran off when their daughter was a baby, and he closed ranks after that.”
“Hmmm. That fits with what Cassie told me, too. Rilla Gran
t came by the stand yesterday. She’s starting up an advertising business, and she wanted to know if we might be interested in being one of her first clients. She gave me that info.” I nodded to the folder.
“Advertising? For what, the stand?” Sam snorted. “Since when do we need to advertise?”
I rolled my eyes. “I don’t know, Sam. But moving with the times wouldn’t kill us. We don’t do anything to promote our business. I’m not saying we go full-throttle or spend a ton of money, but I looked over what Rilla gave me. She’s got some good ideas. Wouldn’t hurt to talk to her, at least.”
“I’ll take a look.” Sam reached for the papers, but before he opened the folder, he gazed at me. “You’re right, Ali. Sometimes things need to change. I spend a lot of time and energy working to keep everything going just like it was before. The same old, same old is comfortable. But sometimes we need to shake things up.”
“Okay.” I was a little unclear about where he was going with this. “You’re not firing me, are you?” I laughed. Sam and I were co-owners of everything: this house, the farm and the stand. Since I’d moved home with Bridget, after Craig left, we’d made every decision together.
He didn’t join in my laughter. “I’m just saying, even though things have worked well for us like they are, it doesn’t mean change is a terrible thing. I never want you to feel like you’re stuck here.”
Now it was getting clearer. “You talked to Meghan, too, didn’t you?”
He scowled, looking uncomfortable. “A little. I asked her the other day if she knew what’d happened between you and Flynn, back after graduation, I mean. We talked about the choices you made then. At the time, I never asked you. I didn’t know until you told me about it last summer. Back then, I was afraid to say anything, because you were so upset. And after it just seemed like it didn’t matter. It was over.” He heaved a sigh. “I’m sorry, Ali. Sorry I didn’t ask, and that I wasn’t a better big brother back then.”
I reached across to lay my hand on his arm. “Don’t, Sam. There wasn’t anything you could’ve said that would’ve changed anything. No matter how much you pushed. Okay? Stop feeling guilty.”
“You were going to leave with Flynn, and you didn’t because of me. Because of the farm. You gave up what you wanted to do to stay here for me.”
I took a deep breath. “That was part of it, or at least it was the reason I used. Yes, I’d told Flynn I’d go away with him. He was just chafing here, you know that. As much as he loved his family, Burton was too small to hold him, I think. But that morning before graduation, you were so excited. You laid out all the plans you’d been making, how if we worked together, I could go to college right here and work the stand, and we could keep the farm going. You’d figured out all the timelines and the budget, and how it was going to happen.” I smiled, remembering. “I was so impressed, and it felt like Mom and Dad would’ve been proud. It felt like what they’d have wanted us to do.”
“And that’s why you told Flynn you weren’t leaving.” Sam leaned back in his chair, dropping his head against the top of it.
I nodded. “Yeah. And I didn’t handle it well. I was so confused. Just torn over what to do. I loved him, Sam. Loved him like—” Tears gathered and threatened to choke me. “I think he was probably it for me. But after all you’d given up for me, I couldn’t just run off and leave you holding the bag.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I thought Flynn and I could work it out. I figured he might be a little upset, but I was counting on him understanding. We’d never really had a fight before, you know? But that night, when I told him I couldn’t leave, not then at least, he exploded. He told me he wasn’t getting stuck in this town, and if I didn’t love him enough to leave with him—” The horrible things we’d both said that night echoed in my head. “Well, it was bad. He stormed out, and I cried, but at the back of my mind, I never thought we wouldn’t make it up. I expected him to come back the next day, and we’d figure it all out. But he didn’t call, and he didn’t answer when I called. Finally, Reenie came over and told me he’d gone.”
Sam drew in a ragged breath. “I wish I’d known, Ali. I wish you’d told me.”
I managed a smile. “You know what, Sam? All these years, I’ve wished I’d told you, too. I kept thinking what I would’ve done different. But lately, I look at the farm, and what you and I’ve done together, and I’m not sorry. These were good years. I know they were hard, and I know we both worked ourselves to the damn bone, like Dad used to say. But I wouldn’t trade them.”
He nodded, and I thought maybe he was afraid to speak. I gave him a few minutes before I went on.
“Are you going to propose to Meghan?”
He jerked his head up, surprise etched on his face. “What? Where did that come from?”
I smiled. “We’re talking about change and about holding onto what’s important, right? Come on, brother mine. It’s no secret you’re hung up on her, and she’s so crazy in love with you, it’s almost sickening. She’s moving in here come June, right? I figure it’s just a matter of time before you make it official. You and I need to talk about what happens after you do that.”
He had the grace to look sheepish as he scratched the back of his head. “I was planning to ask her right after she graduates. I already talked to Jude and Logan, and I was going to discuss it with you, too. Just didn’t seem to be a good time to bring it up.” He gazed at me from under drooped eyelids. “I was scared, if you want to know the truth.”
“Scared of me? Well, hell, of course you were.” I teased him a little and then sobered. “Change is scary. It’s one thing to have your girlfriend here on weekends, hanging out and having fun. It’s another thing altogether to bring your wife into the house where your sister’s been running the show for almost ten years. We need to be realistic. I think it’s time for Bridge and me to find our own place.”
Sam flinched. “No. That’s exactly what I didn’t want to happen. I don’t want you to feel like you can’t live in your own house. We own all of this together. Nothing’s going to change that.”
I rubbed his arm. “You’re right, nothing’s going to change that. Not even us living in different houses, like most brothers and sisters do.” I paused, searching for the right words. “Sam, if I’d told you on my graduation day that I wanted to leave with Flynn, that we planned to move away and go to college together, would you’ve told me to stay? Would you have let me make that sacrifice for you?”
He shook his head. “Of course not.”
“Then don’t you see this is the same thing? I’m not going to stand in the way of you and Meghan being happy. I want you to have the best chance you can to make a family, together. I’m not abandoning you, Sam. Bridget and I’ll find a place close by, and I’ll still work the stand. We’ll be here to help you with planting and the harvest, and we’ll come for dinner every Sunday night, like in the old days when the whole family gathered at the farm. This is how it’s supposed to be.” I stood up, swaying just a little.
“You okay?” Sam reached for me, but I brushed him off.
“Fine. Just a little light-headed. I think I’ll grab a nap before Bridget gets home.” I started for the steps, and then hesitated. “Hey, Sam? You planning to give Meghan Mom’s engagement ring?”
His voice was gravelly as he answered me. “Yeah. I was thinking of it. I think Mom would like that. Is it okay with you?”
“More than okay. Exactly as it should be.”
“WHAT’S WRONG, DADDY? DO you still feel sick?” Bridget’s small forehead wrinkled in concern as she looked up at me from the back seat of the truck.
“I’m good, honeybunch. Just the bumps are making my stomach feel a little rough.” I clamped my teeth together as the Chevy bobbed up and down on the Reynolds’ driveway. We rounded the bend, and I pulled to the rear of the house. Somehow in the last weeks, I’d fallen back into the old habit of parking here and going into the kitchen.
As soon as we came to a
halt and I turned off the ignition, Bridget unbuckled and opened her door, flying out of the car and up the back steps. “Mommy! I’m home.” I followed her at a much more sedate pace.
“Hey there, sunshine.” Sam met us at the door. “I’m about to walk over to the stand to help Cassie close up. Want to tag along?”
“Yeah, but where’s Mommy?” Bridget peered past her uncle’s legs.
“She’s on the porch, resting. She was feeling a little sick this morning, so she stayed home.”
“That’s funny. Daddy was sick this morning, too. He had a really bad headache.”
Sam smirked at me. “I can only imagine. Well, c’mon, pipsqueak. Let’s get moving.” He held the door open behind him, fastening his eyes on me as Bridget scampered down the steps. “You can go on through the house. You probably want to talk to my sister.”
Shit, no. Talking to Ali today was not on my list of top ten of things I wanted to do. But Sam’s face wasn’t asking, it was telling, so I just nodded and walked through the door.
I went into the silent kitchen and past the living room, opening the front screen door. Ali sat on the swing, her feet curled up under her as she stared out into the yard. She was wearing sweats and big T-shirt, and with her hair down her back in a braid, she looked about fifteen again.
God, I wanted her.
The realization took me by surprise, which was stupid, given how many times the sight, thought or memory of her had given me a painfully hard erection over the last weeks. Yeah, I knew my body still reacted to her. But this was different. I wanted her. I wanted to gather her into my arms, feel her head on my shoulder and her breath against my neck. I wanted to lay her out, with care and tenderness, and kiss her lips until they were swollen and every one of her heartbeats belonged to me. I wanted to laugh with her about all the funny things our perfect daughter said. I wasn’t sure about anything else in my life right now, but this I knew with perfect clarity.
Ali turned her head a little to see me. “Hey.” Her voice was soft and husky, as it used to be after we made love. I cleared my throat and adjusted my pants as subtly as I could.
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