We exit the car on weak knees, both leaning against its side and staring off into the forest. The sky above us has turned from a soft blue to gray, the air thick around us. I think of Brandon and how he predicted a storm brewing just from the ache in his bones.
“Sometimes I think I should start smoking,” Linden says suddenly, and I snort because it’s so unlike him.
“No, you shouldn’t.”
“I should,” he insists, darting a look in my direction. “This feels like a smoking situation.”
I shake my head at him as I push off the car door to step closer and cage him between my arms.
“But then,” I tell him, my voice still rough from the scare we just had, “I wouldn’t be able to kiss you anymore. Because I don’t like the taste of ashtray.”
He laughs at that, the sound chopped but honest. His gray eyes match the sky above us, clouded and stormy, his fingertips cool against my cheek.
“You’re an idiot,” he whispers, and yet he meets me halfway, our lips colliding with a force I didn’t see coming.
Linden’s hands grab for my shirt, desperately fisting the material while his tongue glides over my lips, begging for entrance. I grant it to him, my arms wrapping around him as he pours into me everything he wasn’t able to voice earlier: anger, desperation, frustration, sorrow.
And I let him fill me, like an empty vessel, absorbing it all to the very last drop.
“Fuck, I could’ve hurt both of us.” He gasps when we break apart. He’s still fighting for composure, but I can feel the vibrations beneath his skin, emotions roaring and shifting, similar to tectonic plates before an earthquake.
“You didn’t. It’s alright, Lind, you were upset.” I grab his chin, forcing him to meet my gaze. “It’s okay.”
“It’s not okay. I…I don’t think I can drive, Micah. I—if another car…and something happened to you, just because I wasso angry…how would I have….?”
“Hush, there was no other car. And I can drive us back; don’t worry about that. I’m okay, you’re okay, we’re bothokay,” I insist, bending down so I can press our foreheads together. We’re fully aligned now, knees bumping and hips meeting, my weight pinning him against the side of the car, and slowly, very slowly, I feel the resistance drain from his body.
“I told them. That I won’t be taking over the farm, I mean. That I’ll do something else with my life, and not be a farmer. It’s why…I just needed to get away,” Linden tells me eventually. His fingers are still holding on to my shirt, but they’ve started to shake under the vanishing tension, so I lean back and reach for them, cradling them between my hands.
“How does it feel?” I hum, curious. I’ve imagined similar scenarios with my father for years now, but they only ever play out in my head.
“Good?Terrible. Relieving? All of it at the same time, which makes literally no sense.” He laughs breathlessly, shaking his head at himself.
“Hey, no, that actually makes a lot of sense. You've been carrying this with you for so long; that can't have been easy.”
“Yeah,” Linden snorts, strangled and bitter. “But until today, only I was miserable. Now everyone is miserable.”
“That’s not true, sweetheart. They might be…surprised, sure, but notmiserable.”
“You’re right. Dad isn’t miserable; he’s angry,” Linden huffs as he leans his head against my shoulder, his warm breath tickling my skin.
“God, I’m such an idiot. I should’ve kept my mouth shut and gone along with it until next year. At least then I would’ve had a degree to show them and prove that I’m not a fucking loser. Now I’m just—fuck, what if they’ll stop supporting me? I might not even be able to finish college!”
As if to underline Linden’s words, a deep roll of thunder rumbles in the sky, making us both jump. I glance up at the sky, my breath halting at the dark clouds peeking up from behind the treeline. While we were standing out here, the heavy gray turned into dark blue.
“Let’s not think about that right now.” My hands hesitantly let go of his, even if it’s so that I can embrace him again. I wish I had eight arms so I could wrap around him like an octopus. Seeing the pain etched into his face makes my heart sink in the worst of ways.
“They’d be right to cut me off. I lied to them, Micah. Iliedto myfamily! I’d deserve it, but—” he breaks off, his words getting lost in a sob, and finally, the first tears run down his cheeks.
“Shhhh,” I hum into his ear, my fingers cupping the back of his neck, his blond strands slipping between my fingers. “Shhh. You’ll talk to them, and I’m sure you’ll find a solution together. They love you, Lind.”
My words don’t help. Now that the tears are flowing, they won’t stop. They seep into my shirt, dampening my skin while I can’t do anything but hold him. Hold him through his cries and shivers, hold him even when the sky opens up above us and the first drops of rain begin to fall. Just like his tears, it starts slow,then turns into a mighty downpour, soaking through our shirts and pants and leaking into our sneakers.
“Oh God,” Linden sniffles, his eyes red and swollen when he blinks up at me, his blonde hair plastered to his forehead. It looks darker when wet, but it doesn’t make him any less beautiful. Little drops of tears and rain stick to the end of his lashes, shimmering like rhinestones.
And heisbeautiful right now—almost otherworldly, like a fae that stepped out of the forest to tempt me.
“You’re soaked! Jesus, Micah, what if you get sick? Your coach will kill me,” he groans, his hands rubbing over my bare arms.
