“Tell me now or I’ll scream.”
He laughs, a big, surprised laugh, and I light up from the inside.James thinks I’m funny.“I realized the other day that I only think of Tommy with negativity.”
“Oh yeah. You absolutely do that.”
“Nice, don’t hold back.” He adjusts in his seat like he wants to get rid of the uncomfortable thought he’s sitting with.
“When you look at Tommy, you look like you’d rather be eating a toad than talking to him.”
“Well . . .”
“Men enjoy their urology appointments more than you enjoy spending time with Tommy. You—”
“I get it,” he says dryly. “And you’re not wrong.”
“Why though? Just because y’all are different? Because Tommy likes to run around with hotties and you like to shuck your own corn?”
He grimaces. “I’m going to hope that wasn’t a euphemism.”
“Don’t worry—it was.”
“Okay, well, that’s definitely not the reason. But . . .” His face skews up. “Actually, maybe a little of it. The . . . run around with hotties part.”
For some reason, my heart sinks to the bottom of the ocean. It shouldn’t. That’s an absurd response. He is a heterosexual male—of course he’s going to wish he was running around with beautiful women! It would be abnormal if he didn’t. But . . .
No.
Nobuts.
I’m choosing to release this thought into the wind, because James and I work together, and we are friends—and that’s all we’ll ever be.
Any day now, this attraction will fizzle out. The flames will be doused, and I’ll stop wondering what it would feel like to hear him whisper my name in the dark, under covers and skin to skin.
It has to fade.
Because James is the kind of man who builds things. He plants roots. He wakes up at sunrise andembracesresponsibility.
And me? I’ve run from every life I’ve tried to build. I burn bright—but I burn out just as fast.
What could someone like him ever see in someone like me, besides a temporary spark?
I pull myself up straight. “I’m sure we can find a cutie around here for you to hook up with. You might have to go a little farther into the city, but—”
He looks horrified. “Shit, Madison. No. First, don’t saycutie.That’s weird. Second, I should’ve been more clear. It’s not that I want his life—it’s that . . . I think I’ve always resented him for having theoptionto live it.”
Relief softens my chest as I sink back against the seat. “You never had that option?”
“No. I’ve always been the heir to the farm,” he says with a dry, almost amused tone. “Ever since I asked for a John Deere tractor for my third birthday and my parents took it as an early vow of devotion.” He chuckles, but it’s laced with something heavier. “I’ve been all-in ever since. But Tommy? He never wanted anything to do with the farm—and no one expected him to either. My parents always knew he’d fly the coop and go places.
“Sometimes I wonder if I really love this place because it’s in my blood . . . or because I’ve always been told it is.”
The look on his face wrecks me. Brow furrowed, shoulders slumped—it’s like he’s carrying the weight of the world over there. And if I could peek into his brain, I’d bet everything I own and lovethat the heaviness he’s experiencing isn’t due to being stuck with the farm. It’s about admitting he wishes he’d had achoice.
Only James would feel guilty for wanting a say in his own life.
I want to wrap my arm around his and squeeze. “Do you . . . regret staying in Rome?”
“That’s where it gets complicated. I really do love the farm now. I love the work I do. But at the same time, I resent Tommy and his freedom. I resent that I love this place so much that Ican’tjust leave it behind and start fresh. You know?”
