“I like Colten,” I breathe. An immediate weight lifts off my shoulders, hearing the confession out loud.
Eyes narrowing, he surveys my expression and smirks. “I’ve known that for a while.”
“I still need you, though. I don’t want this to change our friendship.”Wow, that sounded desperate.
He grabs a dirty, paint-smeared rag from the table and places his hands on his hips. “I’ve seen you two together, and I know how you are around Brennan and me. You’re different with him.” He shakes his head. “I’ve noticed it since that first week, even though I wish I didn’t—” He tightens his lips. “It’s okay. Really. This won’t change anything.”
“But will that make things awkward if I tell you I want him? We all did things—together.”
“Yes, we did,” he agrees. “But I wouldn’t change what happened. Family comes first, Taryn, and he’s better with you. Colten’s put everything on the line for this family, and I have no intention of taking away the one good thing that has happened to him since Mom disappeared.”
I swallow, nodding as tears swell in my eyes, hearing him care for his brother like this.
God, Cameron is going to make some woman so lucky one day.
“But there’s one thing you should know about Colten,” he says, and I straighten my spine. “He makes decisions with his head and ignores his heart. He’s been through a lot over the years and despises it when people break their promises. So, if you’re choosing him, I need you to think carefully about your decision before it goes too far. Because if he gets hurt again, I don’t think there’ll be anything to save him this time.”
THIRTY-NINE | COLTEN
Reaching up to one of the branches, I wrap the string lights around it, pulling to tighten them. I climb down the ladder and head to the bed of my truck, where the generator hums through the otherwise quiet orchard. I plug in the cord, watching as this part of section nine brightens from the dainty lights I wove in a zigzag pattern through the apple trees.
They drape over the picnic blanket I set up with a few candles and a vase of flowers I picked from the garden because I have no idea what the fuck to get a woman for her birthday.
Taryn seems like the type of person who values thoughts over things. I respect that about her.
After work, I ran into town to The Honey Hut and picked up a chocolate cake I had Adelaide make just for her. It’s currently waiting in the cooler in the truck, but the twins—along with Elena and Tristan—are making her dinner first, and later tonight, I’ll be bringing her out here.
I settled with a grand gesture because she never talks about needing things, and I still want to make up for everything I’ve put her through. And for some goddamn reason, I love the bright smile on her face when she’s surprised and caught off guard. Asmile that makes my lungs and heart feel full, like they could explode at any moment.
That’s what she does to me.
Crouching down to the flowers, I nervously rearrange them in the large vase on the blanket.
Standing up, I take one last look around at my pathetic attempt at a birthday gift. Section nine isn’t far from the house, so I figured we could walk to it. Tucking my hands into my sweatshirt pockets, I begin the walk back to the house between the rows of trees on either side of me, my head swimming with doubts.
This is so stupid. Why did I think this was a good idea?
When I return to the house, I slip off my hood as I walk through the doorway. The scent of butter and garlic wafts through the room, making my mouth water. Smells like they’ve got a good handle on dinner.
My body jolts as something crashes and shatters on the floor.
Maybe not.
“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to!” Elena’s sweet, anxiety-ridden squeak comes from the kitchen.
They told Taryn she couldn’t leave her room for an hour while they got everything ready, so I assume she is still upstairs.
Multicolored balloons are scattered haphazardly around the foyer, leading into the dining room and kitchen. On the table, lit candles, a bowl of salad, and happy birthday napkins from Tristan’s party earlier this year are displayed. Streamers are chaotically taped to the walls, twisting and attaching to opposite sides of the room.
I hustle into the kitchen, seeing Brennan and Tristan blowing and tying more balloons while Elena sits on the counter beside the stove with a wooden spoon. Cameron appears from the pantry with a broom, reaching for the broken glass and beer puddle on the floor that Rossco is helping clean up.
“Watch where you step. She knocked my beer off the counter,” Cameron mutters, amused.
“Come here, Rossco,” I call. He turns toward me, and I crouch down to pet him as Cameron cleans up the mess.
“Don’t forget to stir, Elena,” Cameron reminds, snatching a towel off the counter.
She sticks the spoon back in the homemade Alfredo sauce, stirring it around as steam billows into the air. Her teeth sink into her bottom lip, entirely focused on her task.
