“Of course not.”
I sling my backpack over my shoulder and walk out of the shed.
Jonas is outside, washing the tractor. Anders told me that he’s particular about keeping the farm machinery clean andI believed him when I saw how shiny the enormous combine harvester is.
Jonas lifts the sprayer as though to get me with it, but then he sees my face and cuts off the water.
“What’s wrong?” He looks past me at Anders, who’s followed me outside.
“Nothing.” I shake my head at him and make to walk past, but he lays a gentle hand on my arm.
“Hey,” he says softly.
“I’m a bit sad about my ex, that’s all.”
I don’t elaborate further, but I don’t want him thinking this has anything to do with his brother. Even if, in part, it does.
A couple of tears escape and roll down my cheeks. I hastily brush them away and I could be imagining it, but I swear Jonas gives Anders a pointed look.
Anders comes a little closer. “You okay?” he asks. He’s not near enough to reach out and touch me.
I nod, taking off my backpack in search of a pack of tissues that I’m almost certain I left on my desk at Wetherill.
Jonas makes a noise of frustration as I continue to search, and I think it’s directed at Anders because he gives him a properly dirty look that I definitely did not imagine and then Jonas pulls me into his arms.
The combination of pressure behind my eyes, the lump in my throat, sympathy, and now someone giving me a proper, all-encompassing hug has me crumbling.
I’m up against the wall of Jonas’s chest, engulfed in his big arms, and I can’t help but cry.
Scott used to hug me all the time and I miss physicalaffection so much. That was something else I relied on him for. My dad can’t even bring himself to hug me more than twice a year.
“Go and get her a fucking tissue,” Jonas snaps at Anders.
Jonas mutters into my ear as Anders walks away, “I’m sorry my brother is an emotional dimwit.”
“No, he’s not.” I pull away, defending him. “He’s been so supportive of you.”
“Yeah, but he should be able to give a friend a hug if they need one. I think he feels he’s betraying Laurie by even touching another woman. It’s painful to watch.”
Wait,what? That’s why Anders keeps his distance? I’d assumed he was like Sheryl, protective of his personal space.
“I’m going to go and sit down by the lake for a bit.” I don’t know what else to say. “Please tell Anders not to worry about that tissue.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure. Thank you, though.”
My eyes are dry by the time I’ve reached the deck. I sit down on one of the chairs and try to gather my thoughts together. Jonas’s revelation has thrown me, although I don’t know why: it’s obvious Anders is still grieving for Laurie.
I pick up my backpack and pull out my sketch pad, determined to lose myself in my work.
I’m so caught up in what I’m doing that I almost jump out of my skin when, half an hour later, Anders steps onto the deck. I didn’t even hear his footsteps coming through the wood.
“Are you going to show me what you’re up to?” He nods at my sketch pad.
I’ve instinctively clutched it to my chest, but it’s probablytime I overcame my shyness—I’ve been at this for a couple of days.
“I’m only playing around,” I say, already making excuses. “I thought of it when Bailey was talking about a honeymoon suite.”
