I don’t like being the center of attention. I hate being the center of attention when I’m doing something that could completely backfire. This qualifies, more than anything else I’ve ever done. As I approach Caleb, people are already starting to stare. If it involves Caleb, it attracts attention. And I have no idea how he’s going to react to this. Things between us are bad, and it’s mostly my fault. I haven’t handled any of it well, yet I don’t know what I would do differently. Words have rarely served me well when it comes to Caleb Winters, so I’m relying on actions.
He sees me coming. He’s wearing a baseball cap, with the brim pulled low, and it shields most of his face. But I note how his shoulders tense. Probably a bad sign. His voice is wary when he speaks, obviously thinking I intend to stop at an appropriate distance and exchange syllables. “Lenn—”
I don’t give him a chance to finish saying my name. I knock his cap upwards, and then I kiss him. Really kiss him. The way I would if we were alone, rather than surrounded by a whole lot of people who are probably staring. The way he kissed me next to the campfire. And I pour everything I am into it. My hopes. My fears. My dreams.
Because somehow, when I wasn’t paying attention, while I didn’t know to stop it, Caleb Winters became all those things to me. Someone I hoped to see. Became afraid to lose. Dreamt about. He mixed with all those other things that make me Lennon Matthews, and is now so snarled in the rest of me I don’t know how to untangle him.
I savor the soft friction of his lips against mine until I can’t anymore. Until the pleasure turns to pain. Until I start to worry I might do something even stupider. Like ask him to stay.
I pull away and look up into those hauntingly blue eyes, filled with heat and confusion. “Don’t get lost,” I whisper, before I turn and start to walk away. I don’t get more than a dozen feet.
“Lennon.” His hand spins me back around to face him. “I’m coming back, okay?” he vows. “This isn’t goodbye. I’m coming back.”
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Caleb.”
“I’m not.” His blue eyes are fierce now. “I mean it.”
I nod once, but I don’t let myself believe it. “Goodbye, Winters.”
I know he senses my reticence. It’s obvious in the long, frustrated breath he blows out before he nods back. “See you, Matthews.”
We’re back to being distant. And I’m back to feeling alone.
Cassie doesn’t say much on the drive home. We’re both tired after a long, draining day, and she knows me well enough by now to get that if I wanted to discuss what happened I would bring it up myself.
She parks in front of the farmhouse, and I’m surprised to see the porch light is on. Even more surprising, Gramps is sitting in one of the rocking chairs. He’s usually asleep before me, which makes this about six hours past his usual bedtime. It’s almost three.
I say goodbye to Cassie and climb out of the SUV, back into the humid night. “You’re up late, old man,” I tease, climbing the rickety front steps and leaning against the porch baluster.
“You’re out late, young lady,” Gramps shoots back with a wink.
“Yeah . . . I guess so.” I scuff the toe of my sneaker along some of the peeling paint coating the floorboards. “Had more people to say goodbye to than I realized.” More like it took me four hours to muster the courage to say goodbye to one.
“Ah,” Gramps responds knowingly. He uses the arms of the old rocking chair to push himself upright, and then comes and stands next to me. The comforting weight of his arm settles across my shoulders. “People have a tendency to come back home, Lennie.”
“Like birds?” I quip, trying to lighten the mood and lessen his worries. I know Gramps still feels guilty about college.
“Or baseball players,” Gramps responds. “It’s the whole point of the game, after all.”
An unexpected lump appears in my throat as I look away from the sage, shrewd eyes that are the same hue as mine to survey the farm I’ve grown up on.
“We’ll see,” I reply softly.
EPILOGUE
__________________________________
Caleb
The familiar green sign flashes neon in the light cast by the car’s headlights, and I’m surprised by the nostalgia the sight of it sparks. Crossing into Landry, Kentucky each summer used to be something I dreaded. Time spent away from my friends and baseball camp that would instead be spent at stuffy parties in a stiff suit. Moving here was not a welcome prospect, but my father couldn’t ignore my grandfather’s health issues, and I didn’t exactly have the option to stay behind at age fourteen.
Landry looks exactly the same. There was a time when that would have bothered me, the way this tiny town in the middle of nowhere stands like a time capsule. So certain every other place on earth is envious of its timelessness. Its pedigree. I used to think it was ridiculous. Who measures a state’s importance by one tiny postage stamp in the heart of it? Turns out a lot of people do. Far more people in the broader world know about the existence of Landry, Kentucky than I expected. I lost track pretty quickly of the number of people who asked eager questions about my adopted hometown, wondering what it was like to live in such a hallowed place.
I was half-tempted to tell them the truth: that Landry is small, and conceited, and doesn’t live it up to the hype. But something stopped me. She stopped me.
Because any place Lennon Matthews lives can’t be any of those things.
I climb out of the cab to type in the code at the front gate, and the imposing metal doors swing open, revealing the long, curving drive that winds through the property I spent my high school years living on. The house is dark and quiet when the cab drops me off. As per usual, my father’s traveling someplace on business, and my mother won’t be here for a couple more days. I might have told her my exams ended two days later than they actually did.
It’s close to ten, but I head straight for the kitchen when I enter the house. I didn’t have time to eat dinner between my last exam and my flight, and I’m starving. I pull out my phone to call Colt as I eat the turkey sandwich I hastily threw together.
“Winters! Wassup?” he answers.
“You free tonight? I just got back.”
“Wait, back as in here? You’re back in Landry?”
“Yes,” I reply, laughing at the surprise in his voice. “Are you free, or what?”
“Uh, yeah, sure. I’m at Jake’s. Come on over.” There’s a strange, almost uncomfortable note in Colt’s voice, and I hear someone talking in the background before he hangs up.
I change into clothes that don’t smell like fast food and recycled air, and head out into the garage.
I’m not surprised to see there are at least five cars in the driveway when I reach Jake’s. His house was always the de facto gathering place in high school. Mainly due to the fact he is universally liked with the added benefit of his house being located only a couple of blocks from the high school. Unlike me, Jake doesn’t live on a massive estate. His parents’ house is part of a large gated community filled with residents who appreciate the elite status of Landry’s zip code but aren’t interested in dealing with the hassle of participating in the horse industry.
I park and walk up the front path. The door’s unlocked, so I don’t bother knocking, just stroll inside like I’ve done so many times before.
“Winters!” Jake calls out when I enter the kitchen, drawing the attention of the dozen or so other people huddled around the kitchen island. “What are you doing here?”
“Great to see you too, Barnes,” I say dryly, helping myself to a bottle of beer from the fridge.
Jake ambles over to my side. “You said you wouldn’t be back for a couple more days.”
“You sound like Colt. Didn’t realize you two were so invested in my travel plans. I’ll make sure to send you both an updated itinerary next time.” I twist the top off the bottle and look past Jake to survey the rest of the kitchen. There are more people here than I initially
realized. Far more than the number of cars out front indicated.
“Hey, man, you’re the one who showed up at my house.” Jake’s trademark easygoing grin appears, but there’s the same undercurrent of something in his voice that was in Colt’s on the phone earlier.
I return my attention to Jake and narrow my eyes at him as I take a sip of the cold beer. “Is there something going on?”
“Hey, you made it.” Colt appears in the kitchen and gives my shoulder a punch in greeting.
“Hey,” I reply. “Jake was just about to tell me why the two of you are acting so weird.” I raise my eyebrows and glance between the two of them.
Jake rolls his eyes. “Luke!”
The fourth member of our quartet pokes his head into the kitchen. “Wassup?” Then, his gaze lands on me. “Winters!” He bounds over to bump fists.
I would be much more pleased to see my three best friends for the first time in six months if I wasn’t becoming increasingly aware there seems to be something they are all keeping from me. “Are you going to explain why these two are acting so strange?”
Luke glances between Colt and Jake, looking lost.
“We were thinking Winters might like a heads-up about the guest you invited,” Colt finally says, raising his eyebrows meaningfully.
Luke sucks in an audible breath. “Oh shit, yeah.” He turns to me. “Uh, yeah, so I ran into Cassie Belmont over Thanksgiving break,” he says. The words are innocuous enough, but he glances at Colt, then Jake, making me think they actually aren’t.
“Cassie Belmont,” I repeat, trying to figure out why that name sounds so familiar. And then it clicks. “Cassie. She moved here senior year.”
“Yeah, so, she seemed interested, so we hung out over Thanksgiving a bit. She’s friends with . . . they came over here one night. Both of them.”
I take another sip of beer, trying to act casual. Probably too casual. Everyone in the kitchen is paying attention to us, likely wondering why we’re huddled next to the fridge. I should shrug and put them all at ease. Reassure them I’m not a bomb about to go off. But I’m too curious. I can only hold the words back for so long. “You saw her?”
Jake doesn’t bother to hide his smirk. I’m pretty sure he figured out I had a thing for Lennon before I did. The day I accidentally elbowed her in the face in front of him was probably the highlight of his high school years.
“Uh, yeah,” Luke replies.
“And you didn’t tell me?” There’s a dangerous note in my voice, and I know Luke hears it.
I’m fairly certain I hear Jake mutter “Wonder why,” but I’m too busy waiting for Luke’s response to pay attention to Jake’s sarcasm.
“She didn’t stay long,” Luke informs me quickly.
“Did you talk to her?” I press, eager for more information. I’m well aware I’m sounding a little more pathetic with each question. I also know I’m going to visit Matthews Farm at some point during this trip home. Might as well be as prepared as possible.
“Uh, no. She spent most of the time talking to Masterson, actually.”
“Huh,” I convey a lot in those three letters. She wasn’t interested in him before. Has six months changed that?
“She didn’t seem interested,” Colt tells me. It’s a bit embarrassing—but convenient—that he can read me so well. Colt’s a straight shooter. He wouldn’t say it if he didn’t mean it.
“Okay,” I respond. Acknowledging I care. Which isn’t a surprise to any of my friends. They all know Lennon is a touchy subject, so they tend to avoid it. Jake and Colt telling Luke to mention it makes no sense.
“Why are you telling me now?” They wouldn’t bother. Unless . . . Luke’s eyes dart nervously to Colt, and that’s all the answer I need. “You invited Cassie again tonight.” Luke nods. “And you think Lennon will come too.” Another nod.
I take a longer sip of beer. Luke, Colt, and Jake all study my expression, but I know it’s not giving anything away. I’m good at hiding my true feelings. Very good. To succeed in life, always know what others want, my grandfather would tell me. And never let them know what you really want. It’s usually easy to tell what people want. Except for Lennon. I could never tell what she wanted. And ironically, she never seemed to believe I wanted her.
It shouldn’t matter that she might be coming here. I know I’m acting nonchalant, but I can’t convince myself I actually am. I can already feel my stomach filling with nerves and anxiety. I don’t ordinarily need to feign confidence. I know what to say, how to act. But something about Lennon Matthews has always disarmed that ease.
“Fine. Whatever,” I finally say, because they’re all waiting for me to say something.
Jake rolls his eyes, but that’s the end of the discussion as far as the rest of us are concerned. Luke and Colt start asking me questions about college ball, and Jake jumps in eventually. Our group expands as other friends and old teammates join the huddle.
I move into the living room when the kitchen starts to get too crowded. It reveals a whole new wave of people wanting to talk to me. I’ve been mostly silent on social media for the past few months, and everyone wants to catch up now that I’m back in Landry. There are lots of inquiries on college baseball from the guys. Lots of not-so-subtle inquiries regarding my relationship status from the girls.
I’m talking to Brett Michaels when I hear her voice. “No need to ply us with alcohol, Jake. We already showed up.”
Lennon Matthews appears in the doorway, and I forget where I am. Forget my own name. A pick-up truck could drive into this living room right now, and I’d still be focused on her. There’s the same foolish flutter that’s appeared every time since I first saw her. I was distracted and annoyed when she was assigned as my tour guide my first day at Landry High, but she gained my attention pretty quickly when she dropped the door on me and then glared, daring me to say something. So, I did.
She’s cut her hair since graduation. The light brown strands only fall a few inches past her shoulders now. She’s wearing a black v-neck t-shirt under an unzipped gray hoodie, and the t-shirt clings to curves I’m intimately familiar with, falling just past the waistband of the jeans she’s wearing with it. It’s not what I would ordinarily consider to be enticing apparel, but on Lennon? It most definitely is.
Her mouth is curved into a subtle grimace as she scans the people scattered about the living room, and her freckled nose is slightly wrinkled. It’s fairly obvious she’s not here of her own volition. She whispers something to a girl I recognize as Cassie, who giggles in response.
And then Lennon spots me. And she freezes. Literally. Seconds seem to suspend in time as we stare at each other. There’s no music on, and I don’t think it’s my imagination that the room around us quiets, exacerbating the fact that neither of us are saying anything.
Unlike Lennon, I had some forewarning this encounter might happen tonight. I had the time to think of things I might say to her in greeting. Some sappier than anyone probably imagines I am capable of, especially Lennon. Others that I know would set her hazel eyes ablaze with annoyance. But I don’t move any closer. Don’t voice any of those prepared responses. It’s childish, but I want her to be the one to speak first. Her poker face is almost as good as mine, but her words give a lot away. She tends to use my last name when she’s annoyed or distant, and my first when she’s feeling more generous. I could really use the insight that will provide right now.
So of course she doesn’t give it to me. She stays silent and still. Cassie is a bit slow to realize what’s caught Lennon’s attention. But she sees me eventually, and then glances between me and Lennon with wide eyes. I watch her whisper something to Lennon I’d bet my sizable trust fund is an offer to leave. When Lennon shakes her head, I’m certain I’m right. She wouldn’t risk me, or anyone else, thinking I’d run her off.
Jake appears in the doorway behind Cassie and Lennon, and seems to ascertain the situation immediately.
“Drinks are this way, ladies.” He takes on th
e role of host and starts to usher them towards the doorway that leads to the kitchen. Towards where I’m standing with Brett. Luke and Colt choose this moment to exit the kitchen. I’m a bit suspicious about the timing.
“Surprised to see you here, Lennon,” Luke calls out as they approach us. It’s a typical move. Talk to the friend, or girl you’re not interested in, so you can see how the one you are interested in reacts. Cassie doesn’t look perturbed by his lack of attention, but I don’t think Luke cares either way. This time he’s not trying to bait Cassie. He’s trying to bait me.
Lennon ignores him and addresses me instead. I’d be lying if I said that didn’t give me a secret thrill. “You’re back.”
“How’d you know?” I tease her a bit for stating the obvious, and I’m rewarded by the sight of a slight flush in her cheeks. I don’t know what else to say, though. Don’t know how to broach into any of the heavier topics dangling between us. I was hoping to be suave and prepared during our next encounter. But looking at her, feeling other people looking at us? I don’t have any idea where to start.
“The kitchen is just through here,” Jake says, cutting into the silence that’s fallen. “It’s not all alcohol, Lennon,” he adds, no doubt recalling her “plying with alcohol” comment.
She nods, and it’s the first clear indication my presence is affecting her. Normally I’d expect some quip from her. But she’s moved through the shock of seeing me, and she’s still rattled. “I could actually really go for some alcohol right now,” Lennon announces, making a point not to look at me.
“Why the change of heart?” Jake asks, a little too innocently.
I shoot him a glare, and his amused expression turns a bit wary. I know I thoroughly confused all my friends in high school by how I antagonized Lennon Matthews every chance I got but wouldn’t tolerate anyone else doing the same. I’m sure they’ve all formed their own, probably correct, conclusions about why that was the case, but I’ve never talked about it. My feelings towards Lennon are not something I could easily put into words. Aside from the three she promptly told me she didn’t want.
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