Crossing the Line (The Cross Creek Series Book 2)

by Kimberly Kincaid

  “It’s after the harvest,” Owen said. “I told him to sleep in and we’d cover him. Seriously, how come you’re not going to Brazil?”

  “Because I’m staying here instead.”

  But Eli’s heart wasn’t going to stop with this stupid twist-and-free-fall thing until he put the topic to rest once and for all, so he turned toward his brothers and said, “Look. The journalism thing was just an impulsive mistake. Slapping together a handful of articles for Cross Creek is in a whole different universe than traveling around the globe for the job, and the Brazil assignment got pushed from a week to a month.”

  Hunter’s shoulders hitched in surprise beneath his thick canvas jacket, and Owen’s wide-eyed expression matched. “Okay,” Hunter finally said. “So a month is a bit longer than you were expecting. But—”

  “No buts.” God, Eli was so sick of this. He just wanted to get back to the farm and get on with his life. “The whole thing was a shit idea to begin with. You guys need me here. I owe it to Pop to stay here. And Scarlett didn’t get that, so”—he pulled a breath into his ridiculous, traitorous lungs—“we broke up.”

  “Eli,” Owen started, but apparently Eli wasn’t done in the Big-Reveal department.

  “I don’t remember Mom.”

  Eli heard the words only after they’d launched, and Christ, emotions before breakfast had to be a bad idea.

  “What?” Hunter asked, not unkindly. “What do you mean, you don’t remember Mom?”

  “I don’t remember her at all,” Eli confessed, guilt crowding his chest and his words. “I listen to you guys talk about her, and I try so hard, but . . . I can’t remember. I should remember her, right?” He looked at Owen. “I should remember something. But I don’t, and I just . . .”

  “She used to read you bedtime stories in that big ol’ rocking chair that’s in Pop’s room. You got too big for her lap after a while, but you asked her every night, and she never told you no,” Owen said quietly, shocking Eli into stillness.

  “And she used to mash up your peas and mix ’em in with your mashed potatoes to get you to eat them,” Hunter added.

  “That’s disgusting,” Eli said, but he laughed anyway.

  “Yeah, but you bought it.” Hunter grinned. “Hook, line, and veggies.”

  Owen laughed, too. “God, I’d forgotten all about that, but you sure did.”

  Surprise plucked a path up Eli’s spine. “You don’t remember everything?”

  “Of course not,” Owen said, his expression soft yet serious. “And just because you don’t remember what we do doesn’t mean you’re any less of her son, E.”

  “It’s not that I don’t remember what you do. I don’t remember anything.” Guilt pulsed in Eli’s gut, but Hunter shook his head to cancel it out.

  “You still loved her, Eli. Owen and I remember that. Just because you can’t remember her doesn’t mean you didn’t love her, or that you’re any less her son than the rest of us.”

  He blinked in surprise. “I guess . . . I never really thought about it that way.”

  “You should probably start,” said Owen, reaching out to place a quick, firm squeeze on Eli’s shoulder. “You’re part of this family no matter what.”

  “I know.” Eli swallowed back the emotion threatening to spill out of him. “We have to stick together now more than ever.”

  Hunter glanced at Owen, the exchange done before Eli could unravel its meaning. “This thing with Marley will be tough, and it’s gonna take some time, but we’re gonna get through it. Pop will get through it. Even if you go to Brazil, and even if you become a travel journalist.”

  The words knocked into him with palpable force, but no. Eli wasn’t going down this road. This was over. Said. Done. “I appreciate the sentiment, you guys. I really do. But Scarlett’s leaving Millhaven later today as planned, and I’m not going with her.”

  “Eli—”

  “If it’s cool with you, I’d really like to just drop it and get to work.”

  For a second, Eli was sure his brothers would argue. But then Hunter said, “Okay. Just let us know if you change your mind.”

  “Thanks, but I won’t.”

  Despite all that effort, as Eli kicked his Red Wings into motion and headed for the hayloft, his heart did the stupid twist-and-free-fall thing anyway.

  Six hours later, Eli was filthy, exhausted, and still trying to ignore the giant hole in his chest. He might as well be patching the thing with duct tape and glue for all the good work was doing, and dammit, there had to be a better way to get past this and move on.

  Don’t lose this chance to be who you are . . . you’re good enough to be part of your family even if you love something else . . .

  Right. Probably, he should’ve stuck with the bourbon.

  Tugging the dust-covered work gloves from his hands, Eli headed toward the main house. The sun told him lunchtime was awful close, and even though he had zero appetite, he couldn’t keep working if he didn’t fuel up. And if he didn’t keep working, he’d think about Scarlett, who had almost certainly packed her little yellow convertible to the gills and hightailed it out of town by now.

  So, yeah. He’d eat a big fat sawdust sandwich if he had to. It was better than the alternative.

  Eli toed out of his boots, abandoning them by the welcome mat. He was two steps inside the main house when Lucy ambled over for a hello, and he bent down to give her a good scratch behind the ears.

  “Hey, pretty girl. Where’s Pop? You keepin’ him company today?”

  Lucy trotted to the living room at the words. Concern rolled through Eli’s gut, only dissipating halfway when he found his father sitting on the living room sofa, staring out the lace-curtained window.

  “Hey,” Eli said softly, not wanting to startle the man. He already looked like he’d been through the wringer, his jaw unshaven and twin shadows darkening the space below his eyes.

  But his father looked up, scraping together the slightest of smiles. “Ah. Just the person I wanted to see.”

  Okay, so not what he’d expected. “Me?” Eli asked.

  “Yes, you. Your brothers tell me you’ve decided not to take this trip of yours.”

  Eli exhaled, hard and fast. Of course they had. Gabby bastards. “You don’t need to be worrying about that right now.”

  His old man’s smile lingered for a few seconds longer. “I’m sure one day when you have children of your own, you’ll understand this better, but you’re my son. No matter what’s doin’ in my own world, I’m gonna worry over you. That’s just the way of it.”

  “I’m sure you’re worried over Marley, too,” Eli said, but his father shook his head.

  “That job’s bigger than just today, I’m afraid. So right now, you’re stuck with my concern.”

  Eli’s gut tightened before dropping toward the floorboards. “Not sure there’s anything for you to worry about with me, Pop. I decided to stay here at Cross Creek. It’s not a big deal.”

  “It is when you’re passin’ on your dream in order to do it,” his father said, and oh hell, Eli really wasn’t going to make it through this conversation twice in one day.

  “I’m not passing on anything,” he argued, but his father shocked him with a wistful smile.

  “You’re just like your mother. Did you know that?”

  For a second, Eli froze, unable to even speak. Finally, he asked, “Do you mean because I’m being stubborn?”

  His old man’s smile grew. “Ah, that, too. But I meant you lovin’ to read and write.”

  “Mom loved to write?” Eli’s heart started to pound. Could he really have something so fundamental in common with the mother he couldn’t even remember?

  “She did,” his father confirmed. “Your momma was such a free spirit. It was one of the things I loved about her most.”

  His eyes crinkled slightly at the edges, signaling such a sweet memory that Eli didn’t dare interrupt him. “She read darn near everything she could get her hands on. Kept a journal, too. Oh,
she was always scribbling in that thing. Said she was just collectin’ her thoughts, but the truth is, I think she had a bit of curiosity about bigger things. Just like you.”

  “I never knew she liked to write,” Eli said, and his father nodded.

  “That she did. You’re so much more like her than you know. And I know she’d want you to follow your heart. No matter where it leads you.”

  Just like that, Eli dropped back to reality with a hard snap. “Going to Brazil was a bad idea. I don’t belong there.”

  “And what about that girl of yours, hmm? What does she think?”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  Eli registered the gravel in the words only after they’d disappeared into silence. But none of this rift with Scarlett was his old man’s fault, so he eased up on his tone to add, “What I mean is, that’s done. We had a, ah, difference of opinion, and she’s going to São Paulo and I’m not, so yeah. It doesn’t matter.”

  “Actually, I think it does.” His father looked pointedly at the side table over by the window, and wait . . .

  “Where did all these pictures come from?” Damn, there had to be a dozen of them at least.

  One salt-and-pepper brow rose. “Scarlett printed them up to thank us for lettin’ her stay at Cross Creek for the month.”

  The hole in Eli’s chest grew another inch. Christ, that was so something Scarlett would do. Had done. “She got everyone in the family.” There was even a shot of him with Clarabelle, and . . . his lungs squeezed. The picture of his old man with his mom.

  “Seems she’s pretty smart. You sure she’s not right about this disagreement you two had last night?”

  Of course, his father could read between the lines enough to know what had been the source of their blowout. “I’m not sure it’s that easy,” Eli said, but his old man just smiled.

  “Ah, but I’m certain it’s not that hard. I know you feel loyalty to this family, and that means more to me than you’ll ever know. But you’re overdue to be who ya are, son. No matter what’s goin’ on here at Cross Creek, and no matter how long you have to be gone to do it.”

  Eli’s heart pounded faster in a last-ditch defensive maneuver. “Okay, but everything with Marley—”

  “Will be here when you get back,” his father promised. “Do you want to be a writer, Eli?”

  He nodded. He couldn’t cover up the truth. Not anymore. “Yeah.”

  “And do you love Scarlett?”

  “Yes, sir. I do,” Eli said without hesitation, realizing the gravity of the words as he spoke.

  He loved her. He loved Scarlett. He loved her too-loud laugh and the fact that she hugged chickens and every brash, bold, in-your-face part of her that had pushed him to be who he was, even when he’d tried his best to fight it.

  And now she was gone.

  Eli bit out a curse, dropping his chin to his chest. But then he caught sight of the picture frames, each one glinting in the sunlight, and an idea sparked in his head, wild and insistent.

  “Pop, can you call Owen and Hunter and ask them to come up here as fast as they can? I’ve got to do something, but I need all the help I can get.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Scarlett shouldered her camera bag, taking one last look around the fun-sized apartment she’d borrowed from Emerson. Somewhere right around two a.m., the concept of sleep became one of those things that was great in theory but impossible in practice, so she’d thrown in the towel and tidied the place from top to bottom as she’d packed. Everything had fit in the Volkswagen just as it had on the day she’d arrived, and funny how it seemed like it had been forever and five minutes ago all at the same time.

  You might want to make that never, sweetheart.

  Scarlett ran a hand over her breastbone, trying to cover the ache there. But she knew it wouldn’t work—shit, she’d tried it nearly nonstop for the last twelve hours. The only thing that would work was punching her passport and getting back behind her camera, where she belonged.

  Crossing the threshold, she locked the door and slid the key under the mat. It was a move she’d never dream of in New York, but then again, she’d text Daisy as soon as she made her first pit stop in Lockridge.

  Time to hit the road. No matter how badly she didn’t want to.

  No matter how much it hurt.

  Scarlett took one last look at the Twin Pines parking lot before kicking her block-heeled booties into motion across the asphalt, but she’d barely made it to her car before her cell phone buzzed in her back pocket. Her heartbeat rocketed in a moment of bold, stupid hope, but the sensation quickly flamed out at the sight of Hunter’s phone number on her caller ID.

  “Hi, Hunter. What’s up? How’s your dad?”

  “He’s hanging in there. Did I catch you on the road?”

  “Sort of,” Scarlett said, finishing her trip to the Volkswagen and going through the pleasantries with the door locks and the ignition. “I was actually just heading out.”

  “Well, I’m glad you’re not too far away. I’ve got one of your lenses here at the farm. You must’ve left it by accident.”

  Surprise prickled through her. “Are you sure?”

  Hunter’s laughter moved over the line. “The only cameras we have around this place are the ones on our phones, so yeah, I’d say I’m pretty sure.”

  “Point taken,” Scarlett said with a tiny smile. She was normally meticulous about her equipment, but she had stockpiled some lenses at Cross Creek. She must’ve missed one somehow. “I can come by and get it since I’m on my way out of town. I have Emerson’s key, anyway.”

  “Sounds like a plan. I’ll see you in a few.”

  After a quick trip back to the welcome mat, Scarlett aimed the convertible at Cross Creek. There was the possibility Eli would be there, she knew. But after last night, he’d made it clear that he belonged at the farm and she didn’t, so even if he was, surely he wouldn’t be champing at the bit to be anywhere near her.

  By the time she pulled up the gravel drive leading to the main house, the pang in her belly had (mostly. Sort of) subsided. Eli’s truck was nowhere to be seen, and she made her way to the porch to place a knock on the door so she could make the swap and get on the road before that changed.

  To her surprise, it was Owen, not Hunter, who answered the door.

  “Um, hi,” she said, but he met her confusion with a grin.

  “Hey, Scarlett. Hunter told me you’d be stoppin’ by. Come on in, and I’ll go get what you came for.”

  “Oh. Sure.” Going into the house hadn’t really been on her agenda, but she didn’t want to be rude. Scarlett stepped into the foyer, but her feet clattered to a sloppy halt as soon as she reached the living room.

  Eli stood front and center on the area rug with two huge duffel bags at his feet.

  “Right.” Owen’s smile turned the slightest bit guilty, and Hunter’s was a perfect match as he appeared beside his brother in the hallway. “Sorry, but we sort of lied to you.”

  “And by ‘sort of,’ we mean ‘totally,’” Hunter added, placing a quick squeeze on her shoulder before following Owen back down the hallway and out the front door.

  Scarlett crossed her arms over the front of her sweater, partly as a defense and partly because she was sure that if she didn’t, her heart would do a triple gainer right out of her chest. “What are you doing here?” she finally managed.

  “I’m here because I knew you’d be here. I know—” Eli broke off, pain and regret making a clear-cut appearance in his eyes. But they didn’t stop him from continuing. “I know I said a lot of things last night that hurt you, and none of them were true. It doesn’t change the fact that I said them, though, and for that I apologize.”

  She felt her stare go round and wide. “Okay.”

  “It’s not okay, though. I said those things to push you away, but what I should’ve done instead was tell you the truth,” he said. “I should’ve told you that I was torn over what to do and how best to help my family. I should’
ve told you I was panicking that the assignment in Brazil got so big, so fast.”

  “Anything else?” Scarlett asked, hope flickering strong and sweet in her chest.

  Eli nodded. “I should’ve told you that you were right about who I am. I’ve spent all this time worrying about belonging in a place, about not belonging at the farm, that I didn’t see what was right in front of me. I don’t fit into a place, Scarlett. I fit with a person. I fit with you.”

  Tears welled, sudden and hot, and oh God, her heart was going to pound right out of her rib cage.

  “I thought I came from everywhere,” Scarlett whispered. “My whole life, I thought I belonged everywhere, but I don’t. I belong with you. My home—my heart, my everything—it’s all you. I belong with you, Eli.”

  He moved to cross the living room, but she met him halfway, throwing her arms around his shoulders just before he pulled her in close in return. His lips brushed over hers, and nothing had ever felt so good or so vital in her life.

  “I’m so sorry,” Eli said, but she pulled back to look at him, shaking her head.

  “You love your family. I understand. I love them, too.”

  He lowered his forehead to hers, the corners of his mouth edging up into a mischievous smile. “Speaking of which, I should probably tell you one more thing.”

  “What’s that?” she asked.

  “Everyone around here seems to think you’re family, too. See for yourself.”

  He swung her toward the side table where all the photos she’d taken were lined up, but with one addition.

  “Oh my God.” Scarlett’s tears began to fall in earnest, but she didn’t care. “Is that . . .?”

  “The picture Owen took of me and you two nights ago. You’re part of our family, Scarlett. I love you.”

  “I love you, too, cowboy.”

  And as she pressed to her toes to kiss him, she knew they were both exactly where they belonged.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Like all books, Crossing the Line is a collaborative effort, and I wouldn’t have been able to write more than five words of it without the encouragement and dedication of many, many people. I owe endless thanks to my wonder-agent, Nalini Akolekar, who is as patient as she is fierce. Chris Werner and Melody Guy, truly, there are no finer editors than you. I’m so blessed to work with you both. To the entire team at Montlake Publishing, thank you for making me look so good and for being cheerleaders for this series. Also, an extra-special thank-you to Jessica Poore for showing me that carnitas and pancakes are a thing. (Trust me—they’re a thing and they’re fabulous!)