Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 98538 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 493(@200wpm)___ 394(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98538 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 493(@200wpm)___ 394(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
I shrugged. “Oh, Marlo will probably bake me a cake as hard as a brick and I’ll do some reading.” I smiled and he smiled back, brushing a piece of hair off my forehead.
“Happy birthday, Tenleigh.”
“Happy birthday, Kyland.”
We kissed slowly and deeply for several minutes on his couch and I sensed his desire for me. But when I pulled back, he let me. I kissed him one last time and then I walked back to my trailer. My heart felt as though it was breaking into so many pieces, and for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out how to keep them all together. And I wasn’t sure I even wanted to.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Kyland
The place where I had camped with my family for years was always a little more peaceful than I remembered it—which was good because I needed a good dose of peace. Tenleigh had told me she loved me, and I’d said it back. It filled me with both joy and fearful desperation. I had nothing to offer her, and now, how would I leave her behind?
I’d almost gone to her trailer and asked her to come with me before I’d left, but I’d resisted. The problem was, I’d been resisting her for over three weeks and I thought it would have gotten easier. Instead, my longing for her had only increased. I craved her. It was a hunger deep inside my gut—a burning that only grew fiercer, more demanding without being fed. And I knew I’d loved her for a long time—perhaps even far longer than she’d loved me. When had it happened? When had I let my guard down enough to let her sweetness slip around my heart in a way I’d never untangle myself from? And at this point, what did it even matter?
I looked around. There was a huge, ancient oak that provided the cover we’d always used for our “campground.” We hadn’t been able to afford camping gear and so we’d used the same blankets and quilts we always slept with, just with a plastic tarp underneath. My dad would make burgoo, a stew that was a concoction of opossum and squirrel and any other wild game you could catch in a small trap—venison if you had a gun. It was supposed to be a delicacy, but like so many other “delicacies,” it was probably born from starvation and the likelihood that calling something a delicacy made it more palatable. As gross as it probably sounded to those not familiar with the dish, it was good. And I made a batch of it every year for this trip, which just happened to be my birthday. I thought my dad would probably like that.
I looked out to the field of lavender. I liked this spot because when the breeze kicked up, you could smell all those purple flowers—sweet and herbal at the same time. Calming. I sat on a huge fallen branch that had been there since I was a kid and regarded the wood for the campfire I’d laid out on the ground in front of me. I’d light it once the sky became dark and heat up the stew and then I’d sleep under the stars in my makeshift sleeping bag in this spot for the very last time. I wouldn’t come back here again.
A feeling moved inside me that felt surprisingly like grief, an ache in my guts. I didn’t exactly understand it—this place had been so full of pain for me because each time I came, I felt the absence of my family. But at the same time, there had been joy here too, that I was only now remembering. How did I make sense of that? I couldn’t stand these conflicting feelings. I wanted to feel hatred for Dennville, Kentucky—nothing more, because then it would be easy to leave and not look back.
Tenleigh. This was because of Tenleigh. She was here and suddenly, there was beauty. Suddenly Dennville was her—the girl who had helped me move through some of the darkness, into the light. I groaned and then sat staring at the grassy ground for several minutes, debating what to do.
How had my life become suddenly so complicated? And so clear?
Tenleigh. Half agony, half hope.
My love for her was fear and pain, and joy and laughter. It was spring flowers and winter frost. How the hell could love feel so damn crowded?
I caught movement off to my left and lifted my head, startling slightly, and she was there, walking through the field of purple lavender toward me just like a dream. My heart flipped and I stood, everything inside me buzzing with sudden joy. Shit.
She reached me and offered a tentative smile, her hands clasped in front of her. She had her hair loosely braided and was wearing a white sweater that fell off her shoulder, her creamy skin exposed. And I knew I’d never see a more beautiful vision than Tenleigh Falyn standing in a field of lavender.