"If we what?" I demanded. We were standing on the trail that led to the main road near the top of the hill, the back way he'd been taking home from school for almost a month now. I looked down at my feet when he didn't answer. "I miss you. We have so little time together. And things are so unclear . . ." I shook my head. "Neither one of us knows what's going to happen, and maybe—"
"I'm leaving. That's what's going to happen. Did you think this thing between you and me, that it would change my mind somehow?"
Hurt speared me and I couldn't help wincing. "No. That's not what I thought. But I never expected . . . I never—"
His eyes flared as he seemed to recognize where I was going with my words. He advanced on me, his body moving into my space until he stood directly in front of me. "Don't," he said, almost pleadingly. "Don't. Please don't."
I lifted my gaze, gathering all my courage, refusing to back down. "I never expected to fall in love with you. And I thought maybe . . ."
. . . you could love me back. Even if you leave. You could leave loving me.
His body was utterly still. Somewhere overhead a hawk called out and the breeze ruffled the trees surrounding us. And still his eyes held mine.
He cursed under his breath and then his lips were on mine, his tongue hot and demanding as it parted my lips and plunged into my mouth. It wasn't exactly the answer I was hoping for, but it was something. Not nearly enough, but something.
Kyland broke away, breathing hard and gripping my head in his large hands. He pressed his forehead to mine and we just breathed together for a minute.
"I'm going camping tonight."
I blinked. "Camping?" I repeated. That hadn't been the response I was expecting.
He pulled away and looked down at me, his face still tense. "Yeah." He ran his hand through his hair, taming it. "My family, we . . . it was something we used to do on my birthday every year. I used to like it—we'd go up to this field filled with lavender and," he ran his hand through his hair again, "anyway, I've kept doing it every year."
I nodded. "I know where you're talking about. It's where I collect the lavender I use to make that tea . . . and those sachets . . ." I trailed off. This felt so awkward and I wanted to cry. Oh, Kyland, I already miss you desperately and you're not even gone yet. I stared down at my feet.
I'd told him I loved him and he hadn't said it back.
When I looked back up at him, he was squinting up at the sky. After a moment, he lowered his eyes to mine. There was something wild and raw in his expression, but he just stood there looking at me for a second before he grabbed my hand and started walking toward home. It felt like it'd been so long since he'd touched me. His hand felt warm and solid in mine.
We walked in silence, my heart hurting and Kyland seeming to grow more intense by the moment. He didn't let go of my hand when we passed my trailer and so I continued on with him until we got to his house.
I didn't know whether I wanted to cry or throw something, but the sorrow I'd been feeling for weeks now was suddenly heating inside of me to a bubbling anger.
Kyland let go of my hand and opened the door to his house. I walked inside with him, not even understanding why I was there.
When I got inside, I gasped, the anger flowing out of me to be replaced with shocked pain. There were boxes piled everywhere and the wood stove that had sat in the middle of the living room was gone. "What?" I asked.
Kyland followed my eyes. "I sold it for two hundred fifty dollars to some guy in Evansly. He drove up here and bought it, along with my mama's kitchen table set."
I gaped, misery moving through my body. I nodded, a tear finally escaping my eye. I swiped at it, embarrassed.
This was happening. He was leaving.
"Tenleigh," Kyland said, his voice gravelly. "Please don't cry." He stepped toward me. "Anything but that. Please." He sounded desperate. "This is what I've been trying to avoid. This. I don't want either of us to feel this way."
He'd been pulling away from me to make it easier. And yet pulling away only made it hurt more.
"Well, I do! And you don't get to take that from me. I love you, and you don't get to say anything about it. The love I feel for you is mine. And I'll feel it if I want to."
"Tenleigh," he repeated, his voice cracking. "Don't love me. Please don't love me. I can't stay here. Don't love me."
"It's too late." I shook my head back and forth in defiance. "It's too late. I'm not asking you to stay, but it's too late for me not to love you."
The look that passed over his features was tortured. "It can't be," he said, shaking his head.
"It is."
His eyes met mine and he walked slowly to me, the look of intensity in his eyes increasing. He stepped right up to my body and his eyes lingered on my mouth for several moments before he pressed his warm lips to my own. The gentleness of the kiss was in direct contrast to the expression on his face and the energy moving between us. I didn't know what to make of it.
"I love you, Kyland," I whispered when our lips had parted. I put my hand up on his cheek. "And I'll love you whether you're here in Dennville, or whether you're in New York City, or London, or on Jupiter. I love you."
He squeezed his eyes shut and let out a loud whoosh of air. He pushed his fingers into my hair and grabbed hold of it gently. "This is a mistake."
"I'm leaving. That's what's going to happen. Did you think this thing between you and me, that it would change my mind somehow?"
Hurt speared me and I couldn't help wincing. "No. That's not what I thought. But I never expected . . . I never—"
His eyes flared as he seemed to recognize where I was going with my words. He advanced on me, his body moving into my space until he stood directly in front of me. "Don't," he said, almost pleadingly. "Don't. Please don't."
I lifted my gaze, gathering all my courage, refusing to back down. "I never expected to fall in love with you. And I thought maybe . . ."
. . . you could love me back. Even if you leave. You could leave loving me.
His body was utterly still. Somewhere overhead a hawk called out and the breeze ruffled the trees surrounding us. And still his eyes held mine.
He cursed under his breath and then his lips were on mine, his tongue hot and demanding as it parted my lips and plunged into my mouth. It wasn't exactly the answer I was hoping for, but it was something. Not nearly enough, but something.
Kyland broke away, breathing hard and gripping my head in his large hands. He pressed his forehead to mine and we just breathed together for a minute.
"I'm going camping tonight."
I blinked. "Camping?" I repeated. That hadn't been the response I was expecting.
He pulled away and looked down at me, his face still tense. "Yeah." He ran his hand through his hair, taming it. "My family, we . . . it was something we used to do on my birthday every year. I used to like it—we'd go up to this field filled with lavender and," he ran his hand through his hair again, "anyway, I've kept doing it every year."
I nodded. "I know where you're talking about. It's where I collect the lavender I use to make that tea . . . and those sachets . . ." I trailed off. This felt so awkward and I wanted to cry. Oh, Kyland, I already miss you desperately and you're not even gone yet. I stared down at my feet.
I'd told him I loved him and he hadn't said it back.
When I looked back up at him, he was squinting up at the sky. After a moment, he lowered his eyes to mine. There was something wild and raw in his expression, but he just stood there looking at me for a second before he grabbed my hand and started walking toward home. It felt like it'd been so long since he'd touched me. His hand felt warm and solid in mine.
We walked in silence, my heart hurting and Kyland seeming to grow more intense by the moment. He didn't let go of my hand when we passed my trailer and so I continued on with him until we got to his house.
I didn't know whether I wanted to cry or throw something, but the sorrow I'd been feeling for weeks now was suddenly heating inside of me to a bubbling anger.
Kyland let go of my hand and opened the door to his house. I walked inside with him, not even understanding why I was there.
When I got inside, I gasped, the anger flowing out of me to be replaced with shocked pain. There were boxes piled everywhere and the wood stove that had sat in the middle of the living room was gone. "What?" I asked.
Kyland followed my eyes. "I sold it for two hundred fifty dollars to some guy in Evansly. He drove up here and bought it, along with my mama's kitchen table set."
I gaped, misery moving through my body. I nodded, a tear finally escaping my eye. I swiped at it, embarrassed.
This was happening. He was leaving.
"Tenleigh," Kyland said, his voice gravelly. "Please don't cry." He stepped toward me. "Anything but that. Please." He sounded desperate. "This is what I've been trying to avoid. This. I don't want either of us to feel this way."
He'd been pulling away from me to make it easier. And yet pulling away only made it hurt more.
"Well, I do! And you don't get to take that from me. I love you, and you don't get to say anything about it. The love I feel for you is mine. And I'll feel it if I want to."
"Tenleigh," he repeated, his voice cracking. "Don't love me. Please don't love me. I can't stay here. Don't love me."
"It's too late." I shook my head back and forth in defiance. "It's too late. I'm not asking you to stay, but it's too late for me not to love you."
The look that passed over his features was tortured. "It can't be," he said, shaking his head.
"It is."
His eyes met mine and he walked slowly to me, the look of intensity in his eyes increasing. He stepped right up to my body and his eyes lingered on my mouth for several moments before he pressed his warm lips to my own. The gentleness of the kiss was in direct contrast to the expression on his face and the energy moving between us. I didn't know what to make of it.
"I love you, Kyland," I whispered when our lips had parted. I put my hand up on his cheek. "And I'll love you whether you're here in Dennville, or whether you're in New York City, or London, or on Jupiter. I love you."
He squeezed his eyes shut and let out a loud whoosh of air. He pushed his fingers into my hair and grabbed hold of it gently. "This is a mistake."
