by Mia Sheridan
She shook her head. “No, there’s a clear path once you get beyond the first couple of trees. I think it was a logging trail at some point. It’s a straight shot so it takes half the time.”
It felt as if my blood slowed in my veins, my feet glued to the spot where I stood.
Oh my God.
“Do you know if Cole knew about that path?” I asked so quietly I wondered if Lia could even hear me. A buzzing had taken up in my brain.
She tilted her head, looking at me with confusion in her eyes. “Yeah. I showed it to him once—I think you were at the orthodontist with your mom and I’d come by and—”
Oh, fuck me.
A loud burst of laughter escaped my throat, causing Lia to startle as I stumbled backward, letting go of her hand and clutching my stomach as wild laughter, tinged with a helpless anger rose up inside me so suddenly my body reacted physically. “You bastard,” I said softly, incredulously. I stood there for a moment, catching my breath, shaking my head. “You cheating bastard!” I yelled it this time, picking up a rock and hurling it at the sky.
“What are you doing?” Lia yelled, jumping back as if I was losing my mind. I raked both hands through my hair, letting the last few bursts of laughter, or anger or whatever it, was fade away. “Are you crazy?”
“No,” I sighed. “No. Just stupid. Fucking stupid.”
“What are you talking about, Preston? God, I’m lost here.”
“Me too, Lia. God, I’ve been lost for so fucking long.” And I missed my brother, even though if he’d been in front of me right that minute, I’d have beaten his ass. He’d tricked me! He’d fucking cheated. And for so long, I’d killed myself trying to honor an oath that had been based on a lie. And then I’d felt guilty after I’d followed my heart anyway.
It was partially my fault, though. I’d taken his bet. I hadn’t told him how I felt—chosen instead to leave it to what I thought was a small part chance and a bigger part my own willingness to run my heart out for her. If I’d just been honest with him . . . if he’d known how deeply I felt for Lia . . .
I sighed, the anger draining out of me. “We raced for you.”
Her brows came together, and she shook her head. “You . . . what? I don’t understand.”
I laced my fingers behind my neck and tilted my head back, looking up at the clear blue sky, wondering if Cole could see us now and if he was laughing in that way he always had when he was a kid and he’d gotten caught doing something naughty and self-serving. That laugh, part-charm and part self-deprecation, that had a way of melting even the hardest of hearts. I should have let you know, you cheating bastard. I wish I had. God, I wish I had. I released my hands and lowered my head, looking at Lia.
“We both wanted you, Lia. To decide who would ask you out, we raced for you. I didn’t know about the shortcut. Cole did. I ran with everything I had because I wanted you so badly to be mine. I didn’t understand how he won, but now I do.” I nodded my head to the trees where the shortcut I hadn’t even known about was hidden inside. The shortcut that, ironically, Lia had shown Cole.
Her face paled slightly as she stared at me. “You . . . you raced for me. To decide who would ask me out?” She spoke very slowly as if she was trying to understand something extremely complex. Or maybe just so utterly ridiculous that she was having trouble believing we’d actually done it. The latter I imagined, wincing.
“Yeah.”
Two bright red spots appeared on her cheeks, replacing the pallor in her skin that had been there moments before and understanding widened her eyes. “That’s why Cole kissed me that day at the fence. That’s why you walked away. Because he’d won the race.” She gritted out the words, her jaw barely moving.
“I . . . yeah.” I winced again. I’d watched them from the hall window on the second floor, misery and jealousy lashing at me from the inside. I’d hoped so damn hard that she’d reject him, turn him away, but she hadn’t, and it had hurt so much I’d hardly been able to breathe through it. But I’d done that. Me.
I’d done it to myself. And I’d done it to her.
For a frozen second we just stared at each other, before she spun on her heel and started walking away from me, her fists clenched at her sides.
I sighed, watching her leave, wondering if I should have told her the truth. But a lie had started that whole mess. And I wanted her to understand what had happened all those years ago, why I hadn’t pursued her. Why it hadn’t been me.
I stepped forward, intending to run after her, when she whirled around and began stalking back to me. I froze, surprised and confused.
She didn’t slow down as she approached and my eyes widened as I saw the fiery anger in hers. Her lips were pressed together, and I’d never once seen that particular expression on her face.
For a second I just wanted to freeze time and marvel at it—at the way it made her look like an avenging angel, at the way it filled her with fire and made me simultaneously want to move away and pull her closer. I was both wary and fascinated.
She stepped right up to me, her fist striking out and connecting with my gut. I let out a surprised ooph and stumbled back a step. “I’m not running away from you, Preston Sawyer.”
“Okay,” I said on a small choke, straightening my body. Her fist connected with my stomach once again, surprisingly delivering a small amount of power. “Dammit, Lia, how many times are you going to hit me?”
“The first one was for you, and the second one was for Cole. Since he’s not here to take it, you get them both.” She stood there breathing quickly, her chest rising and falling with each inhale and exhale. She shook her head. “I can’t believe you didn’t ask me who I wanted to go out with. I would have chosen you, you idiot. It wouldn’t have even been a question.” She choked on one of her exhales and it came out as a sort of wheeze.
My heart squeezed with guilt and remorse. I’d known the night we made love—made Hudson—that she’d wanted me physically for a long time as much as I’d wanted her, but I hadn’t known it went back that far. Jesus. “I’m sorry. We were only seventeen, and it was a bad choice.”
“A bad choice?” she seethed. “A bad choice? You . . . you denied me you with that race. And I . . . I missed you for years because of it. For years, Preston.” The last words were whispered as more despair became etched into her expression.
“I’m sorry. I did the same thing to myself, Lia. I—”
She whirled on her heel again and took two steps away and then stopped, first exclaiming raggedly, “¡Decidieron por me!” They decided for me! Apparently, because of her high emotions, for a moment she’d reverted to her mother tongue. “Cabrones,” she muttered. Bastards.
Lia in a temper. Well I’ll be damned.
I blinked, and then my eyebrows rose as her shoulders went back and she murmured to herself something about a fuss before she whirled back around. It was as if her first instinct was to run, and she was forcing herself not to, maybe even counseling herself about it. I stood in shocked intrigue, watching to see what she’d do next.
She walked up to me again and there were tears in her eyes now. My surprised interest faded to remorse, and my stomach clenched at the stark, agonizing pain on her face. “And you,” she took a sharp, sudden inhale, her shoulders rising and falling as she jabbed at my chest, “you all but ignored me for a year. I was pregnant with your baby. I was scared. I was so lonely, and I know you were grieving, I know you were trying to save the farm, but if you had just turned to me, even once. Just once,” she cried. “And you didn’t even sleep in the same room as me. I needed to be held by you. If you had given me nothing else but that, I could have held on.”
Tears coursed down her cheeks, and I felt an anguish so intense, it seemed as if I might be feeling it for the both of us. Or maybe I’d held my emotions at bay for so long, they were finally breaking free and surging powerfully to the forefront in the same way my passion for Annalia always seemed to express itself—suddenly and with little control.
&n
bsp; I turned away from her and took several deep breaths before turning back. “I didn’t know how to turn to you, Lia. And you never came to me either. You put your things in the guest room the day you moved in, and I thought you wanted it that way. I thought you must hate me for the situation I’d put you in. You held yourself away just like you always did growing up, and I had no fucking idea what it meant.” And I hadn’t tried hard enough to figure it out. I’d let my grief and the farm keep me at an emotional distance—understandable at first, maybe, but in my heart of hearts I knew that I’d justified it with those reasons for longer than I should have.
“What it meant? It meant that I was trying not to add to what you were already struggling with. I didn’t want to be a burden.” She took a huge gulp of air, and I wanted to step forward, to go to her, but I held myself back, sensing that to do so would make her stop talking. Part of me didn’t want to hear what she was saying, but the other part knew I needed to. And even more so, she needed to say it. “And I stayed away from you growing up for the same reason.”
“You were never a burden, not to me and not to Cole.”
“Because I didn’t let myself be!”
I raked my hands through my hair again and then gripped it, letting out a frustrated breath. I dropped my arms and stared at her. “I’m sorry, Annalia. I . . .” I looked off behind her, unseeing, trying to gather my thoughts. “All my life my instinct was to protect you, and the one person I never protected you from was me. I . . . God, I’ve fucked this up so badly. I hurt you, and I hurt me and—” Another small grunt of frustration came up my throat, and I looked at her helplessly before turning and glancing behind me at the grove of trees where the shortcut was hidden.
Cole had been dishonest in both his winning and in the brother oath he’d sworn to. Yet, I’d been dishonest, too, by not telling Cole about my love for Lia. By keeping my word, but not honoring what was in my heart. By hiding my feelings and stuffing my emotions away inside myself. Would it have changed anything? Would Cole have stepped aside if he’d known? I didn’t know. He wasn’t here and I couldn’t ask him, and that pain would live inside me forever. But I also wanted to learn from it. I wanted to become a better man—for Lia, for our son, and for my brother, too, who was never going to have a chance to grow up and learn his own lessons.
I turned back to Lia and for a moment we stood staring at each other, the gulf of more than a dozen years stretching between us, all the silence, all our mistakes, all the circumstances that had always seemed to be stacked against us, when really it was just us hurting each other again and again. And still, despite all that, the burning love that time or distance or a hundred missteps wouldn’t extinguish. The stillness deep inside that whispered her name, sending it out like sound waves through my soul.
The mural from the restaurant where she worked flashed in my mind, the look on the man’s face that I had identified with not because I’d felt that way about Annalia, but because I still did.
I still did.
And God help me, I always would.
A bird cried out above, the trees rustled in the breeze, a leaf picked up by the wind danced past us, and there was only this moment, and I needed to make it matter.
“I love you,” I breathed, putting every ounce of my heart into the words. “I always have.”
Her eyes widened, then she blinked, once, twice and seemed to still, her fists unclenching where she’d held them by her sides.
“I loved you the day I ran that stupid race. I loved you the night we made Hudson, and I loved you this last year and a half, too, even when you left and I didn’t want to love you anymore. I did anyway. There’s never been a choice. And I know it must be hard for you to believe in my love after everything I’ve done that’s hurt you, but it’s true. God, it’s true. And if you’ll give me another chance to prove it to you, I’ll do anything. Anything.” My words broke off in a strangled whisper as emotion clawed at my throat.
Lia’s lips parted as if in speechless surprise, her eyes soft and still shiny from the tears she’d cried. I stepped forward until I was right in front of her and wiped the wetness from her cheeks. She closed her eyes briefly and let out a small sniffle. I moved a stray piece of hair behind her ear that had fallen loose from her braid, my finger lingering on the petal softness of her skin.
At the closeness of our bodies, the feel of her skin and the sweet, subtle smell of her, my body reacted, blood rushing south. I let out a small, strangled laugh, exercising my control. No one would ever affect me like this woman. Not even close.
“You . . . love me?” she whispered.
“All my life. I always have, and I always will.” I knew that now, and it scared me, but there was also peace in the acceptance. And it gave me all the more reason to fight for this, for us. “Didn’t you know?”
“How could I know? You never told me.”
I let out a breath. “I’m not always good with words.” I gave her a half smile. “You may have noticed.”
Her lip quirked minutely, too. “I may have.” The words were said tenderly, though, softly.
I smoothed another piece of hair away from her face. “Let me prove it, Annalia,” I repeated. “Let me try. Please.”
“Oh, Preston,” she started, her voice soft and still slightly soggy-sounding. “I love you, too. It’s . . . it’s the first thing I can truly remember.”
I let my breath out slowly, my heart pounding in my chest with love and relief.
“But . . . “ she started, and I tensed slightly, “do you ever wonder if we really know each other?” At the earnest expression on her face and the way she hadn’t moved away from me, I relaxed, thinking about her question.
“I remember having that thought about you once actually. I noticed everything about you, and yet knew very little about what was inside your heart, what your life was really like.” I tilted my head. “Do you think . . . ah hell, do you think maybe we need to start again as if it’s the beginning? Because Lia, maybe it is. Or rather, maybe it needs to be.”
“Is that even possible? We have a baby together.”
“Maybe that’s exactly why we need to make it possible. We need to try. For us, but also for him.”
Lia’s eyes moved over my face for a moment and then she sighed, taking the end of her braid in her fingers and moving it back and forth as her eyes moved to the side and she bit her lip. “Start at the beginning . . .” she murmured. She took a deep breath and seemed to square her shoulders slightly as she let her braid drop and looked back up into my eyes. “All right. Let’s . . . let’s go back to the beginning.”
I smiled, feeling a sudden burst of love and gratitude. “All right,” I said through my smile. I took her hands in mine and she smiled back. Looking into her beautiful eyes, I saw my past and my future. I saw the young girl who had spat a half-eaten strawberry into my brother’s hand. I saw an amazing, strong woman, who had the courage to come back to me. I saw my love, my heart, my home.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Annalia
The dinner crowd was just letting up as I made my way back to the kitchen of Abuelo’s and dropped off a pile of dishes to the dishwasher. “Thanks, Manuel,” I said as he took the dishes with a large smile before going back to singing loudly to the song that was in his headphones, something about duele el amor. Love hurts.
Indeed.
But.
Ah, but.
I love you. I always have.
As I cashed out the bills for two tables on the computer, I thought about the day before—the anger and the wonderment. Maybe we need to start again as if it’s the beginning, he’d said. I wasn’t a hundred percent sure what he meant by that, but what I thought he was saying was, let’s try to let go of the resentment and hostility. Let’s start with a clean slate and attempt to do things the right way, no secrets, no holding back. I wanted that. I’d told him the truth when I’d told him so. But I’d never been forthcoming with my feelings, and I wasn’t sure it was going to be easy. F
or that matter, he could be the poster boy for the strong, silent type. His thoughts had always been very much his own. I wondered how successful we were going to be.
Still . . .
I love you. I always have.
I smiled, the memory of his words bringing hope and a deep, heart-pounding happiness. And fear. If we messed this up again, I didn’t know if my heart could survive it.
And though I’d pledged to try again, anger simmered inside me when I thought about how Preston and Cole had raced for me all those years ago. What fools. What stupid, selfish fools—especially Cole who had cheated. No, especially Preston who had stood aside because he hadn’t won. How could he? How could he say he loved me yet stepped back because of the results—won fairly or not—of a stupid contest? It made me crazy to think about it, to remember how hurt I’d been when I’d learned that Preston didn’t want me. Or so I’d thought.
I’d almost walked away from him, out of hurt and anger and a rising tide of resentment, but I’d forced myself to turn back, to confront him and tell him exactly how I felt. And although it was difficult, I’d done it, and I’d felt better. So though it wasn’t easy, I was going to try to continue on that route.
Make a fuss, mi amor. Make a fuss.
I brought the checks out to my last two customers and as I was cashing them out, María came up to the computer. “Are those your last tables?”
I moved aside so she could step forward to the computer screen. “Yeah.”
“Do you want to come with us to deliver food? We go to the migrant farmworkers’ camp every Monday. We didn’t go last week because we were held up with that annual food department inspection, so they’ll be looking forward to it.”
I furrowed my brow in confusion. “Migrant farmworkers’ camp?”
“Yes. There’s one a couple of miles outside of town. It’s mostly men, but there are a few families. We save the leftover food from the week—especially fruits and vegetables because they’re too poor to afford them—and deliver it.” She shrugged. “If they have other needs, we see what we can do.”