As the sugar and cinnamon hit my tongue, it unlocks a treasure trove of memories. This is so much more than a cupcake. It’s the late nights in the kitchen, getting to know each other. It’s words ofI can’tand then moans of how good everything feels. It’s frosting spread across my body and a hot tongue licking it up. It’s Sunday mornings at the farmers market and whispered dreams while slow dancing. It’s falling in love with a grumpy man who smiles so wide his dimple pops. It’s an entire spring’s worth of memories: messy and beautiful, a little rain with a lot of sun.
Oh my God, what am I doing? Walker believed in me when no one else did. And I didn’t even give him the opportunity to explain. I didn’t believe inhim.
Without thinking, I grab my sneakers and rush down the back steps of my sister’s apartment. Fortunately, I slept in my normal spandex, so after tying my shoes, I head out onto the quiet street.
The glow from the street lamps guides me through mysleepy town and past the dark storefronts. The waterfront is still and the world is silent as a I rush past, the calm broken only by the gentle lapping of a few boats in the harbor and the squawks of one lone gull.
My chest burns by the time I hit the crushed gravel that leads to the farm. A farm I thought I loved more than anything, though recently I’ve come to realize that it’s the people in this town who mean more to me. And most importantly, the ones who live here: my mom and Walker, my soulmate.
When I finally make it halfway down the driveway, the sun is casting a gentle glow across the meadow in a greeting that feels like a beckoning, a reminder that this is where I belong. I gulp down the New England air as the shape of the man who’s taken hold of my heart comes into view.
I don’t slow. I rush to him, begging that he’ll have answers to the questions turning in my mind. But mostly I hope that somehow, someway, after we speak, this will still feel like home.
CHAPTER 51
Walker
Bleary-eyed and exhausted, I blink a few times, sure that I’m seeing things. But when I open them again, I know that what’s in front of me is real: Tally, a blur of peach in one of her spandex outfits, her golden hair bouncing behind her.
I’d been walking the meadows for hours, trying to figure out how to fix things. How to find her. And here she is, right among the wildflowers. I almost laugh at the irony of it all.
Without thinking, I reach for her as soon as she gets close, but she pulls back and holds up a finger, catching her breath as her head falls down.
“I’ve been going out of my mind, Wildflower. Where have you been?”
She winces and shakes her head, then lets out a heavy sigh. “I was trying to forgive you for breaking my heart.” Her voice cracks on the last word, as does my damn heart.
“Tally—” I step forward, but she shakes her head again.
“My father gifted you half the farm.Youown this farm. Not me.”
Fuck. I don’t make her wait for an answer. The time for secrets is over. “Yes.”
She blows out a breath and nods like she thought there was a chance I’d deny it. But I’d never have lied to her if she’d asked me point-blank. And I certainly won’t do it now.
“Can I explain?”
She shakes her head and a tear drops down her cheek.
“I know—” I blow out a frustrated breath. “I know I fucked up by not telling you the truth. But I did tell you, before anything happened between us, that I was keeping secrets.”
“I didn’t know it was this,” she cries.
I squeeze my fists to keep from reaching for her. “The farm is still your family’s.”
Her head tilts, and I hold up a hand. “And mine. And if you give me a chance, I can explain. Please Tally, if I ever meant anything to you, just give me five minutes.”
She blows out a breath and nods.
“I didn’t know how to tell you everything. Didn’t want to show you all my ugly. Because my family’s history with this landisugly. My grandfather lost it to your grandfather in a poker game. Fucking New England and its storied history.”
Tally’s eyes widen. “What?”
“Growing up, I hated this land with a passion. This farm made my grandfather and my father angry. It made them bitter. I was raised to think that your family was evil, despite knowing that true evil was the back side of my father’s fist.”
Tally’s face softens, but I shake my head. I don’t want her feeling bad for me.
“When your dad showed up at that farm and offered me this job, I’d wondered if he knew what he was asking of me. But as I got to know him, I realized he knew precisely what he was doing. He needed help, Tally. He was underwater, and he knew that the only person who could save this farm was someone who was just as invested, who could love the land just as much he did, and who would do anything to keep it from becoming a development of new houses or an apartment complex.”
