I looked over at Kyland and he was focused on me, only me. I couldn't think about him right now. I couldn't think anymore about the lie he'd told me. I didn't have the strength.
I turned around and walked back to my trailer. When I was a few hundred yards away, the emotion came full-force and I wanted to fall to my knees. I stumbled. The emotion came for all the pain and hardship these people had to endure, some their entire lives. It came for the family who had just lost every single possession they owned—the ones who would struggle to replace even a few of those items. It came for the way it hurt to be back here . . . and the way it felt so right at the same time. I was weary, so very weary. And yet a release felt just out of reach. I'd held it back for so long. I didn't know how to access it now.
I sat down on my front steps and put my head in my hands. No one could see me from here.
"Hey." I startled and looked to the side to see Kyland standing there with his hands stuffed in his pockets.
"Hey," I said quietly. I was sure I looked like a complete and utter mess. But Kyland looked pretty bad, too—soot on his face, his shirt torn and dirty. He looked kinda like a man who had just run into a burning trailer to save a little girl.
I scooted over on the step and tilted my head toward the space I'd just made. He looked briefly shocked, but then moved immediately toward me and sat down, our bodies close. I could feel his warmth. I remembered his warmth so well, the way it'd felt at my back in the middle of the night, the way it'd surrounded me.
I turned toward him and leaned back against the rickety handrail. "That was brave, what you did."
He shook his head. "Those people, they would have done it for me, too."
"Yeah," I said. "They would have."
He nodded, not taking his eyes from me. "All those years ago, sometimes, you know, a basket of rhubarb, or a couple tins of beans or something would show up on my front porch. I still don't know exactly who it was, but . . . I think, I think they probably knew I was lying about my mama still living with me. I think they were doing for me what they could. It kept me alive some months."
I was silent for a second, absorbing his words. "The rhubarb, that was Buster," I said quietly.
He nodded, sawing his teeth along his bottom lip in a way that left it plumped and reddened when he finally let it go. I blinked, tearing my eyes away, back up to his.
Who are you now, Kyland? I don't know you anymore and why does that hurt me so much?
"Is that why you gave them the idea of the lavender?" I asked.
His eyes widened. "Who told you about that?"
"Buster."
He nodded, his lips coming together. "I, yeah. I read about it and thought maybe I could give back. You know, to those who were interested in the idea. Really, it's nothing."
"Sounds like it's working out pretty well for several families."
A glint of pride came into his eyes. "Yeah."
"Ky?"
"Yeah?"
"It's something. It's a whole lot of something."
I heard him exhale beside me. We were quiet for a second before Kyland finally met my eyes again and said very softly, "I'm so sorry, Tenleigh."
I stilled. "For what?"
He ran his hand through his hair and looked up at the sky. "For treating you the way I did the other day and then at Al's." He shook his head. "You didn't deserve it. I just . . . God, Tenleigh, when you got out of here, I thought . . . I thought you'd finally escaped this place. To see you come back . . . and to see that you . . . well, it made me crazy. It made me . . . " he let out a laugh that sounded anything but amused, "crazy." He paused. "Crazy and mean. I'm sorry."
I studied him for a minute. "I know you wanted to get out of here, Kyland. I know better than anyone. I guess I can understand you being upset to see me do something you wouldn't have done if you had won that scholarship. But you lost the right to pass judgment on my choices." Are you going to tell me the truth now? Tell me why you lied to me? Explain to me why you broke my heart? Why you were able to send me away?
"I know. God, Tenleigh, I know." He rubbed his palms on his jean-clad thighs and released a large, shaky breath.
I looked up to the sky. "I'm sorry, too. I acted immature and crazy. I had taken a couple shots and . . . I've always been an angry drinker." I laughed softly, but then went serious. "I acted like my mama used to act."
"Oh, shit, Tenleigh." His voice hitched. "No. You didn't. It was the two of us. Me more than you. I was wrong. When I saw you there, working at Al's again after . . . I lost it."
I nodded sadly, running my hands along my thighs.
"Anyway," he said, "no one's talking about us. Everyone's talking about Gable Clancy and his—"
"Mail-order bride," I said along with him. "Yeah, I heard."
His lip quirked up in a small smile and my eyes lingered on his mouth before I looked away.
A small silence ensued and Kyland filled it. "Of course, Gable isn't sure if she was really trying to kill him or if the car got out of her control on account of her prosthetic leg."
A laugh bubbled up my throat. "What?"
He nodded. "Yeah, I work with him. I know more about mail-order brides with prosthetic legs than I ever wanted to know."
I looked over at his amused expression and intended to smile back, but instead, I felt a wave of nostalgia so large I thought I would drown in it. A tear escaped my eye and I swiped at it, looking down at my finger in surprise. I hadn't shed a tear in so long. Kyland looked at me, his expression suddenly raw and pained. I shook my head as if I could deny the singular emotion that was slamming into my chest in that moment: grief. Grief for the loss of him, although he was sitting right next to me. All these years, I had been so focused on the anger, in just surviving, moving forward, that I hadn't allowed myself to remember the sweetness. But, oh God, how I'd missed him. Despite my heartbreak, despite my anger, I'd missed him so desperately. Besides Marlo, he had been my everything.
I turned around and walked back to my trailer. When I was a few hundred yards away, the emotion came full-force and I wanted to fall to my knees. I stumbled. The emotion came for all the pain and hardship these people had to endure, some their entire lives. It came for the family who had just lost every single possession they owned—the ones who would struggle to replace even a few of those items. It came for the way it hurt to be back here . . . and the way it felt so right at the same time. I was weary, so very weary. And yet a release felt just out of reach. I'd held it back for so long. I didn't know how to access it now.
I sat down on my front steps and put my head in my hands. No one could see me from here.
"Hey." I startled and looked to the side to see Kyland standing there with his hands stuffed in his pockets.
"Hey," I said quietly. I was sure I looked like a complete and utter mess. But Kyland looked pretty bad, too—soot on his face, his shirt torn and dirty. He looked kinda like a man who had just run into a burning trailer to save a little girl.
I scooted over on the step and tilted my head toward the space I'd just made. He looked briefly shocked, but then moved immediately toward me and sat down, our bodies close. I could feel his warmth. I remembered his warmth so well, the way it'd felt at my back in the middle of the night, the way it'd surrounded me.
I turned toward him and leaned back against the rickety handrail. "That was brave, what you did."
He shook his head. "Those people, they would have done it for me, too."
"Yeah," I said. "They would have."
He nodded, not taking his eyes from me. "All those years ago, sometimes, you know, a basket of rhubarb, or a couple tins of beans or something would show up on my front porch. I still don't know exactly who it was, but . . . I think, I think they probably knew I was lying about my mama still living with me. I think they were doing for me what they could. It kept me alive some months."
I was silent for a second, absorbing his words. "The rhubarb, that was Buster," I said quietly.
He nodded, sawing his teeth along his bottom lip in a way that left it plumped and reddened when he finally let it go. I blinked, tearing my eyes away, back up to his.
Who are you now, Kyland? I don't know you anymore and why does that hurt me so much?
"Is that why you gave them the idea of the lavender?" I asked.
His eyes widened. "Who told you about that?"
"Buster."
He nodded, his lips coming together. "I, yeah. I read about it and thought maybe I could give back. You know, to those who were interested in the idea. Really, it's nothing."
"Sounds like it's working out pretty well for several families."
A glint of pride came into his eyes. "Yeah."
"Ky?"
"Yeah?"
"It's something. It's a whole lot of something."
I heard him exhale beside me. We were quiet for a second before Kyland finally met my eyes again and said very softly, "I'm so sorry, Tenleigh."
I stilled. "For what?"
He ran his hand through his hair and looked up at the sky. "For treating you the way I did the other day and then at Al's." He shook his head. "You didn't deserve it. I just . . . God, Tenleigh, when you got out of here, I thought . . . I thought you'd finally escaped this place. To see you come back . . . and to see that you . . . well, it made me crazy. It made me . . . " he let out a laugh that sounded anything but amused, "crazy." He paused. "Crazy and mean. I'm sorry."
I studied him for a minute. "I know you wanted to get out of here, Kyland. I know better than anyone. I guess I can understand you being upset to see me do something you wouldn't have done if you had won that scholarship. But you lost the right to pass judgment on my choices." Are you going to tell me the truth now? Tell me why you lied to me? Explain to me why you broke my heart? Why you were able to send me away?
"I know. God, Tenleigh, I know." He rubbed his palms on his jean-clad thighs and released a large, shaky breath.
I looked up to the sky. "I'm sorry, too. I acted immature and crazy. I had taken a couple shots and . . . I've always been an angry drinker." I laughed softly, but then went serious. "I acted like my mama used to act."
"Oh, shit, Tenleigh." His voice hitched. "No. You didn't. It was the two of us. Me more than you. I was wrong. When I saw you there, working at Al's again after . . . I lost it."
I nodded sadly, running my hands along my thighs.
"Anyway," he said, "no one's talking about us. Everyone's talking about Gable Clancy and his—"
"Mail-order bride," I said along with him. "Yeah, I heard."
His lip quirked up in a small smile and my eyes lingered on his mouth before I looked away.
A small silence ensued and Kyland filled it. "Of course, Gable isn't sure if she was really trying to kill him or if the car got out of her control on account of her prosthetic leg."
A laugh bubbled up my throat. "What?"
He nodded. "Yeah, I work with him. I know more about mail-order brides with prosthetic legs than I ever wanted to know."
I looked over at his amused expression and intended to smile back, but instead, I felt a wave of nostalgia so large I thought I would drown in it. A tear escaped my eye and I swiped at it, looking down at my finger in surprise. I hadn't shed a tear in so long. Kyland looked at me, his expression suddenly raw and pained. I shook my head as if I could deny the singular emotion that was slamming into my chest in that moment: grief. Grief for the loss of him, although he was sitting right next to me. All these years, I had been so focused on the anger, in just surviving, moving forward, that I hadn't allowed myself to remember the sweetness. But, oh God, how I'd missed him. Despite my heartbreak, despite my anger, I'd missed him so desperately. Besides Marlo, he had been my everything.
