Preston's Honor(29)

The last time I’d seen Preston, I’d been fifteen and I hadn’t understood all the reactions of my body. But I did now and I realized that it wasn’t only my heart that had always wanted him; it was my body, too.

Voices outside the barn jerked me from my thoughts and I stood quickly, looking toward the door. The low murmur of conversation moved past but whoever it’d been had helped me remember myself, where I was, and why I needed to leave. Even if Preston’s mother wasn’t likely to come out to the barn, someone else could and they might mention I was here. Not only that, but I couldn’t seem to keep my thoughts from straying to places that would only cause me hurt. “I’d better go.”

Preston stood, too. He opened his mouth as if to say something but then seemed to think better of it, pressing his lips together and simply nodding. “Okay. Let me walk you back to your car.”

I shook my head. “No, really, this gathering is for you and your family. Go back inside. I can walk myself. I’m so glad we got to visit for a few minutes. It’s really . . . well, it’s really good to see you, Preston.” My voice sounded breathy and too high and by the way he was looking at me with a small frown of confusion, I knew he heard it, too.

“It was good to see you, too. Maybe the next time I get a craving for pancakes, I’ll come see you.”

I laughed, a small sound of both humor and breath. “You know where to find me. Will you, uh, give Cole my condolences as well?”

“He’s right inside . . .”

“I know. But I really have to go.”

“Yeah, I’ll tell him.”

I nodded, we paused awkwardly, and then both stepped forward at the same time, hugging quickly again before I turned and walked out of the barn. I didn’t look back to see if he was behind me or not, I couldn’t. The hug had been too brief, and if I looked back I would want to run back into his arms.





CHAPTER SEVEN


Preston



The gathering was still crowded with people. I moved through them, giving small smiles to those who patted my arm, offering condolences as I passed. I was still moving through a sort of fog, in disbelief that any of this was real, that my dad was gone, and Cole and I were without him to run the farm. And seeing Annalia on top of everything else, I was desperate to find a place where I could just be alone for a few minutes.

I’d almost stayed hidden in the barn, but Annalia’s scent lingered, the sweetness of her skin mixed with the womanly musk of her sweat. It overwhelmed me and caused a boiling need inside that made the sweltering barn suddenly completely unbearable.

Our one-hundred-year-old farmhouse had never been wired for central air, but we had window units in the bedrooms. I just needed to make my way through the house and up the stairs. I heard my mother’s voice rising and falling in the kitchen, sympathetic murmurs all around her—a captive audience to her misery—and I knew she was right where she wanted to be.

She’d been an actress when my father met her on a weekend trip to Los Angeles. After a whirlwind courtship, she’d married him and moved to Linmoor. Though, I often thought she’d never really given up her day job. Or maybe she’d become an actress in the first place because she was naturally suited for it. Did she miss him? Had she ever really loved him? Or did she hate him as much as she hated being here, hated the farm life that had once probably appealed to her as romantic and instead had proven to be a way of life where nothing came easy?

I breathed a sigh of relief when my feet hit the back stairs that were out of view of the guests and I took them quickly, closing the door to the room Cole and I had always shared behind me. I turned the window air conditioning unit to high and sank down onto my bed. The whir of the fan was loud enough that the din from downstairs became muted background noise.

My body felt shaky and overheated, and I knew it was only partially from the temperature outside. Annalia. Christ. Seeing her again had been simultaneously torturous and joyful. I gripped the hair at my forehead, a sound of frustration coming up my throat. Hadn’t that always been the case? Only this time . . . this time the shock of seeing her as a woman had nearly stopped my heart. I’d felt . . . breathless. Struck mute. Consumed.

She’d always been beautiful to me, from the very first moment I’d seen her, her feet bare and her lips wrapped around a strawberry. But now her beauty was a punch to my gut, almost shocking in its impact. The sweep of her lashes over those exquisite eyes, that tiny beauty mark, and the way her tongue darted out to wet her full lips. Ah, God.

I’d been away for four years, and the first fucking moment I laid eyes on her again, all my pent-up longing came slamming back as if I’d never been away at all—and worse, as if the distance had only increased my desire.

I’d known she and Cole got together over the years, but I’d resisted the urge to ask him for any details about her. He would have mentioned it if she wasn’t doing well in some way or another, and since he didn’t, I let that be my only solace that she was okay.

I didn’t want to picture them together, didn’t want to know what they’d done physically, whether or not she was still a virgin. More than that, I, needed to get over my feelings for her. I needed to pull away. Nothing lasted forever and surely my feelings for Lia were something attached to my hometown. As much as I’d never had any real desire to see a different part of the country, much less the world, what I did want was to remove myself from her, to pull up the roots of my yearning, the ones that had been planted when I was nothing more than a boy.