Nightfall. That was at least five hours from now. Could Farrah spend five hours on this farm without Darren’s comforting hand in hers? Her throat closed as Cody opened the door and waited for her to enter the farmhouse first.
She steeled herself and straightened her shoulders before walking inside. Absolutely everything and nothing was the same as she remembered it. The new owner—a man named Tucker Jenkins—hadn’t done any home improvements. The furniture was different, but the walls were still whitewashed, and the nail hole where a picture of her and the male junior champion had hung above the fireplace remained.
Farrah rubbed her arms as if cold, glancing around like ghosts would come swooping up the stairs and engulf her in sharp knives and spiders.
“You could get started,” Cody said. “Or I could take you around the farm.”
“No,” Farrah said quickly. She definitely didn’t want a tour of the place she knew like the back of her hand. She didn’t want to see how much it had changed while also staying the same. “I’ll just get started on dinner.”
Maybe the scent of pork chops with onion gravy would entice Darren in from wherever he’d gone.
Please let him forgive me one more time,she prayed as she started removing ingredients from plastic bags.Give me the strength to finally be honest with him.
But Farrah had never felt so weak. At least she had five onions to chop to hide her tears.
chapter
seven
Ben letDarren ride without speaking for about a half an hour. Only the sound of their horses moving through the forest grass and Rambo’s panting as he darted through the trees and then came back to them met Darren’s ears.
Then Ben asked, “When are you going to move past Farrah?”
Darren growled, though the question had real merit.
“Sam said you saw her at the cemetery weeks ago,” Ben said, peering over at Darren in an annoying way. “You’re not dating her again, are you?”
“I wish.” Darren could sum up everything he felt with those two words. If they were dating, they’d at least be talking. Sharing important things. Working through problems. This constant struggle withwhat to say, how to say it, should he even say it?was exhausting.
He sighed, unsure if he really wanted to date Farrah again. He just wanted to stop this emotional cycle of turmoil. Wanted to stop dreaming about her. Wanted to find someone else to occupy his mind and time.
But that would take a very, very long time, and Darren knew it. But if the pain throbbing from his heart throughout his whole body dimmed a little bit each day, he’d take it. Eventually, itwould have to stop, Darren knew that. He’d felt the same way after learning his parents had both died in the same plane crash.
And now, twelve years later, he could look at pictures of them, think of them, without the same level of heartache.
Ben whistled a tune their father used to, and Darren let his frustration and annoyance float away, up into the brilliant blue Vermont sky.
“I don’t know how to move past her,” he finally admitted.
“Because you don’twantto move past her.”
Darren nodded, his chest heaving with the effort it took for him to contain his emotion. No, he didn’t want to move past her.
“I’m in love with her.” His voice sounded like he’d gargled with nails. “I never told her, but I still love her.” He scoffed at his own stupidity. “And I hate that I can’t figure out how to stop, and now she’s working out at the Bybees, and?—”
He sucked in a breath to get himself to stop babbling. He wasn’t prepared to tell Ben about his time out at Jim and Corey’s farm, not right now. He nudged Paintbrush away from the ferns he loved and kept the horse moving through the forest away from the farm. He whistled for Rambo, who’d wandered off again, and the dog came bounding through the bushes.
Ben glanced at him and looked away, an unreadable look on his face. Darren hoped he wouldn’t ask about the Bybees right now, and relief poured through him when Ben didn’t.
“So I guess it’s probably not a good time to tell you our news,” Ben said.
Darren had noticed how Ben had started talking in the plural “we” and “our” since getting married. It was as annoying as it was cute, and Darren longed for the day when he was part of a “we” and an “our.”
“Sure it is,” Darren said. Then they wouldn’t have to talk about him. He wouldn’t have to take advice from his youngerbrother. He wouldn’t have to try to figure out a way to live his life without Farrah in it.
“Rae’s pregnant,” he said, joy bubbling through his throat. “She’s due in January.”
An explosion ripped through Darren, mostly made of happiness for Ben and Rae. Some jealousy coated his insides, but thankfully, none of that bled into his hearty, “Congratulations, Ben. That is great news.”
