“I bet it is,” Dad bites out, stepping forward until he’s just a few feet from him. “You want to explain to me what the hell is going on here, Cyrus? Or do I need to draw my own conclusions?”
Cyrus notices his tone, too. Like me, he’s quick to take offense. “Millie is safe here. She’s happy.”
“Happy?” Dad barks a sharp, disbelieving laugh. “She looks exhausted. She looks…” He stops himself short, like he doesn’t want to finish his sentence. I don’t think I want him to, either.
“It’s not what you think,” I start, but my voice wavers, losing strength fast. I’ve never gotten into an argument with Dad, either. Best friends aren’t supposed to fight.
Cyrus curls his hands, somehow keeping his thoughts from slipping onto his expression. “You need to calm down. We can talk about this.”
“Calm down?” Dad repeats, the words a low, dangerous rumble. “My daughter doesn’t call. Makes me think something happened to her, and turns out to be getting…” He gestures helplessly at the flannel, the love bites, his composure snapping. “And you’re tellingmeto calm down?”
“Dad, please!” I rush forward, but I’m too late.
Turns out, Dad has such a short fuse, it’s no wonder I’ve never seen it before.
He swings his fist like it’s an automatic reaction. It connects with Cyrus’s jaw with a sickening crack. Cyrus’s head snaps to the side, and he stumbles back a step, boots scuffing the dirt. Hebrings a hand up to his cheek, his fingers pressing against the reddening skin.
Cyrus looks like a man who’d swing back without second-guessing himself, but then I notice his eyes flick in my direction. His nostrils flare, and I know hewantsto. One quick shake of my head is all he needs to see.
Dad isn’t done. He’s breathing hard, pointing a furious finger back toward the house. “Pack your things. We’re leaving.”
That’s when I see the shift in Cyrus. Like, just a few words are enough to trigger him; he’s balling up his fist. The rage explodes across his face, stripping away the careful control. His eyes, usually so warm and patient, turn to a heat of anger.
“No!”
I don’t think. I just move, throwing myself between them before Cyrus can take a single step. My hands come up, one pressed against my father’s heaving chest, the other reaching back to find the solid warmth of Cyrus’s arm. I can feel the tremor in his muscles, the last attempt to try his hardest to hold back.
“Stop it! Both of you, just stop!” My voice is sharper than I’ve ever heard it. “I am not going anywhere.”
Dad stares at me, incredulous. “The hell you aren’t. You’re coming home.”
“This is my home,” I say, the words coming out like they’re natural. “And you need to stop talking at me and start listening to me. For once, just listen!”
My father sputters, shaking his head like he can dislodge the words. “Listen to what, Millie? That you’re messing around with a man twice your age? Don’t you know how that looks?”
“I don’t care how it looks!” The truth, finally free, is a relief so profound it makes me lightheaded. “I love him. Dad, I’ve already made up my mind. I’m staying.”
Cyrus moves as soon as the last word leaves my lips. His hand, the one not clenched at his side, finds mine where it rests on his arm. He gently pulls me back, tucking me securely against his front. His arms wrap around me like it’s a natural instinct. His chin rests on the top of my head, and I feel the steady, furious beat of his heart against my back. I feel him release a breath he’s been holding.
“She said she’s staying,” Cyrus says, his voice final. “If you can’t listen to her, then you can leave. You can come back when you’re ready to hear her.”
Dad stares at us, his anger momentarily frozen into sheer, uncomprehending disbelief. He looks from my determined face to Cyrus’s unyielding one, and his expression crumples into something lost and horrified. “Kiddo, this is… this is insane.”
Sure, maybe it is. But I have no doubt that this is what I want. So, if I can talk to him before anything else goes down, maybe I can get him to see it my way, too.
“We’re all going to eat,” I tell them both before I twist in Cyrus’s embrace just enough to look up at him. “And we’re going to talk. Like civilized people. I worked very hard on some pancakes.”
The two of them look at each other, the hesitation still there. I’m the one who has to urge them back toward the house, planting myself between them, just in case.
Eventually, I get Dad to the table. Before I get too comfortable, I’m smart enough to put on clothing that isn’t as revealing. Hard to do with this summer heat, and Cyrus wasn’t shy about where he left marks. Then I’m loading up his plate with reheated pancakes, carefully planning my words.
Cyrus is gone, cleaning up since he smells like he’s rolled around with the pigs.
It’s just us, and he’s staring at his plate like he’s completely lost.
“Coming here wasn’t a mistake,” I say, breaking the heavy silence. My voice is soft but steady. “Because I came here, I figured out what I want. I want to be here. With him. With this land.”
He looks up, pain in his eyes. “What about your plans? What about college? Millie… I don’t want you to be like me. Missing an opportunity like this…”
