I glance at the computer screen where I’ve been filling out notes on the plans for the next calving season. It’s nothing all that pressing, even if there’s a lot of it to get done.
It can wait.
“I don’t have to be.”
“Want to walk down to the river with me?” he asks hopefully. “I, uh, wanted to talk to you a bit. If that’s okay?”
I pick my coffee up as I stand from my seat, forcing myself not to smile. His nervousness is adorable. I may still be pissed about him disappearing, but seeing him so obviously out of his depth and unsure of himself is enough to convince me to hear him out.
“Sure,” I say, acting much more casual than I feel. “Bring the banana bread.”
He seems nervous enough to jump out of his skin, carefully keeping just enough distance between us that our arms don’t brush as we walk. We make our way through the barn and out onto the dirt trail that leads down to the back pastures. He’s quiet as we wander, both of us eating a slice of the best banana bread in town and sipping at our coffees. It’s not until we make it to the river bank that he says anything.
“I’m not going to be very good at this,” he says with a wince.
I don’t say anything, following suit as he takes a seat on the bank, just far enough away from the water that the dirt isn’t quite mud.
“I didn’t even stop to consider the… um, insensitivity, about leaving without telling you,” he starts. “I should have. I’m not used to telling people when I go anywhere.”
I hum in response, but don’t say anything. He hasn’t apologized yet, and I’m not letting him explain his way out of this.
“We were supposed to go riding together,” I remind him, keeping my voice bland. “You just disappeared, and I had no idea what happened. Jenny had to tell me where you were.”
“I’m sorry.” He cringes, his hand twitching at his side like he wants to reach out for me. “I didn’t have service while we were camping, and I just didn’t look at my phone while we were in Vegas.”
I don’t know if I really believe that, but if anyone is irresponsible enough to ignore their phone for two weeks straight, it’s Wayne.
I hum again, taking a sip of my coffee. He looks over at me like he’s hoping not to have to say any more, but he’s not getting off that easily. If he wants me—really wants me, not just a few nights with me—he’s going to have to work for it.
A rushed apology and some coffee isn’t going to cut it.
“Anyway, it wasn’t right. I should have told you,” he says, his eyes falling back onto the river. “I was freaking out because I’ve never wanted something real with anyone, and I had no idea how to handle it. When the guys asked me to come along, I figured it was a good chance to clear my head and figure things out. I should have told you what I was doing, and I’m sorry that I didn’t. I’m sorry for leaving without saying anything, and I’m sorry for making you feel like I didn’t care.”
That’s more like it. I don’t have a chance to say anything before he continues babbling, though.
“I do. Care, I mean. About you.” The words come out awkwardly, like he’s unused to even thinking them, much lesssaying them. It’s kind of cute. “I care about you, and us. I don’t want this to be something casual. You’re all I thought about while I was gone, and that’s never happened to me before. I’ve never missed someone like I missed you.”
“I missed you, too,” I say softly.
Part of me wants to reach out for his hand, but I’m still hesitant. The words are pretty, and obviously thought out, but are they really true? Does he really mean this?
“Oh, thank God,” he says with a laugh. “I was terrified you’d be too mad to give me a chance.”
All of the tension drains out of him immediately, and I frown as I watch him relax. I’m still mad, but I do want to give him a chance. Something in my gut tells me that those words mean something different to me than they do to him.
“So what do you want, exactly?” I ask.
He looks at me with a wide smile on his face, affection shining in his eyes.
“I want you,” he says. “I want to keep seeing you, and to have something real. I missed you while I was gone, and I don’t want to keep missing you.”
I stare out at the water. My heart aches in my chest hearing those words. It’s all I’ve wanted to hear the past few weeks, but I just feel hollow. It’s so… simple. Easy words that could mean damn near anything, nothing concrete, no serious ideas about the future. The worst part is that I can tell hethinkshe’s saying the right thing. He thinks empty promises are enough.
There’s a hopeful shine in those baby blues. His whole body is trembling. The problem is that he’s still Wayne. He’s still living like a teenager in his head, and no matter how many pretty words he can come up with, that’s not going to change until he puts in real effort.
He’s not going to change until something makes him change.
Well, it’s time to give him that something. I take a deep breath.Here goes.
