This is too much for him.
I know that. In the seat where he’s always felt comfortable, he now looks completely out of place.
And it’s breaking my fucking heart.
“What do you need?” I ask.
He turns his head towards me, and the surprise flashing in his eyes is hard to miss. He looks back at the display, then lets his eyes roam over the inside of the cab, like he’s searching for something to hold onto.
“I don’t know,” he says eventually, in a voice so quiet I almost don’t hear him.
I nod, watching his hands fidget as he holds himself with so much tension, it’s like he’s working impossibly hard just to be here.
But he’s not leaving.
I reach out and close my laptop, and Silas’s eyes track the movement.
“I could… come with you in the tractor next time you till,” I say hesitantly. “And show you how it works in the field while you’re working?”
Silas just watches me with a blank expression, and I brace myself for a fiery rejection.
But just when I think he’s going to tell me to fuck off and storm out of here, he gives me a small nod. “Ok.”
Holy fuck.
I was not expecting that…
“Oh, yeah, ok,” I say with a nod that’s probably way too over-exaggerated, and I try to reel in my disbelief. “Just... let me know when.”
Silas climbs down from the cab, and I avert my gaze before I stare at his ass again.
Seriously, what thefuck?
He turns to face me once he’s on the ground, and I give him a small nod, expecting him to head out.
But just as he starts to turn away, he pauses.
“The hollow heart field…” he starts, and my pulse picks up as I keep my mouth shut and just wait. His eyes drift past me towards the back door and the stretch of land beyond it. “It’s taking longer for the soil to warm up.”
I nod, my heart lurching as his eyes meet mine again.
“It just needs more time,” I say.
Something in his gaze softens slightly, and he nods back at me.
Then he turns and leaves.
And a small smile tugs at my lips.
Because this time, it doesn’t feel like he’s running away.
TWENTY-SIX
My heart is already poundingas I turn down the driveway towards the farm, and I pull in a deep breath as I will my body to release the tension it’s holding onto. But it only spreads further into my limbs and up my throat, and I fight the urge to turn around and just go back to my cabin.
But I keep walking down the long driveway, sticking to the cool shadows from the tall trees, as if they can hide me.
“Morning,” Papa calls from the porch as I reach their house, and I glance up to see him on one of the rocking chairs, sipping coffee from his travel mug.
