But he blinks it away and sighs. “Look, I…” He shrugs. “I get it.”
My brow furrows slightly as I stare back at him, and I can’t get my muscles to move to say anything. Even though I don’t even know what to say.
Levi observes me thoughtfully for a moment, letting the silence stretch between us. And I just keep looking into his warm brown eyes, like they’re somehow an anchor keeping me from drifting away.
“I just wanted to let you know…” Levi says quietly. “I’m going to keep showing up. Because I’m not going anywhere.”
My fingers twitch at my sides, and my chest tightens, my body reacting before I can really hear and take in his words.
But before I can, Levi gives one gentle nod, then turns and walks back into the garage.
My feet automatically take one step after him. Just one, and then I stop, my eyes glued to the back of his head as he walks away.
I’m not going anywhere…
The words repeat over and over in my head as I stay right where I am, watching him. Frozen in confusion as a mess of emotions slams into me.
I’m angry. So fucking angry.
I’m angry that I’m falling behind. Angry that everyone is able to step into this new world, and I’m still trying to understand step number one. I’m angry that I’m losing my place here, and that it’s because of Levi.
I’m angry that he’s back, and I’m angry at myself for not being happy about it.
I’m angry for not letting him help me…
But underneath it all, the truth is sitting heavy right in the pit of my stomach.
I miss him so fucking much.
And I love him… just as much as I did when we were kids.
I know that never went away.
I’ve been hiding behind a wall of anger because it’s safe here. It’s safer to keep him away than to let him in.
But he just showed me he’s not afraid of my anger. He never was.
He used to be the safest place I had.
And I can’t ignore that small whisper in the back of my mind, wondering if he could be again.
An urge slowly sparks to life, pushing me to follow him, join him, and be a part of this with him. To let him be my calm, and for everything to go back to how it used to be.
The urge grows to take another step, but my body stiffens, and my feet don’t move. Just one is all I can take.
But… It's a step.
TWENTY-FIVE
“And that’show the software executes prescription-based variable rate seeding,” I say, turning from my laptop screen to the group of equipment operators and field hands gathered around the tractor.
“Cool stuff,” Rob says, leaning against the rear tire as he looks up at the display in the cab where the prescription map fills the screen, with management zones layered over the field map, each colour-coded and tagged with its assigned seed population.
Al nods from the seat in the cab, leaning forward to scroll through the rate summary. “This will save a lot of input, that’s for sure.”
I smile, but it falters as I flick my eyes around the garage for what feels like the hundredth time since we’ve been in here.
We’ve spent close to an hour going through all of this and how to use it and read the data… and Silas didn’t even show up. And since he runs the equipment and plays a big role in operations, it’s kind of fucking important that he does.
