Preston's Honor(33)

I laughed as we turned onto the bumpy dirt road, remembering another ride on a bike with a Sawyer boy and the way my long, orange hair had streamed behind me. Preston. What a sight we must have been that day.

We pulled onto the grass beside his farmhouse, and Cole came to a jerky stop, causing me to let out a small scream/laugh, gripping his waist so I didn’t tumble off the bike onto the ground. He put the kickstand down and got off, holding his hand out to me. I took it and climbed off, too, removing my helmet and handing it to him.

The strains of music drifted from the barn in the near distance.

I was running my fingers through my hair when I caught sight of Preston, standing at the edge of the porch, a look of such simmering fury on his face that it caused me to freeze, my eyes going wide. “Did you seriously drive her here on that piece of rusted junk?”

My gaze moved uncertainly to Cole but he didn’t seem the least disturbed by Preston’s anger. He ran a hand through his thick, helmet-flattened, golden-brown hair and smiled innocently at his brother. “Yep. And look, we’re both in one piece.”

“That thing isn’t safe.”

Cole clapped Preston on his shoulder. “Don’t worry so much, big bro.” He turned to me. “He’s seven minutes older and look at how he takes the responsibility. Annalia, shall we join the party?”

“Sure,” I murmured, scooting past Preston. I felt his body heat as I passed, the tense way he held himself, and I wanted to put a hand on his shoulder and tell him I wouldn’t get on the bike again. I wanted to take my thumb and smooth the crease between his brows and reassure him, but I felt stuck between him and his brother, so I stumbled along behind Cole, heading toward the party.

Lights had been strung from the rafters and they twinkled, the large space glowing and somehow intimate despite the size. I couldn’t help the delighted smile that tipped my lips up as I looked around; the effect was magical.

Different items had been pulled from around the barn to form makeshift seating—the storage boxes Preston and I had sat on the week before, a few ancient-looking trunks, and wooden pallets piled three-high. A few benches had also been brought in from somewhere, some lawn chairs, and three picnic tables. There was a table set up near the door holding three kegs, plastic cups, various snacks, and a few two-liter bottles of soda.

Cole took my hand and led me to the beer and took two cups, pouring soda for me when I told him that’s what I’d prefer and a beer for himself.

We took a seat at one of the picnic tables and Cole introduced me to the other people sitting there. I listened to them all chat and laugh, smiling in the appropriate places and hoping I didn’t seem too awkward. I had such little experience socializing, and I felt slightly intimidated by all the people I’d seen before but never spoken with. I scooted closer to Cole, needing the security of a friend, and he pulled me to him as I sipped my drink.

The night wore on and I relaxed a bit, lulled by the music and the happy chatter all around. I’d always liked people watching and there was no better place to do that than at a crowded party. Everyone was at least slightly drunk and uninhibited.

I blinked when I saw Preston enter the barn, my heart flipping once. His eyes scanned the vast space, landing on me, and I was caught for a moment in his gaze, my breath frozen, unable to move. Something seemed to spark between us, as if the twinkle lights overhead brightened for the brief span of a moment, the music fading around me and then resuming in a loud burst of melody as Preston broke the strange contact, looking away.

He walked along one wall, weaving in and out of a few people, and then back toward the door again. The way he moved—and I knew his movements, had watched them all my life—made me realize that his muscles were tensed, and I had the strange idea that he looked like a pacing panther.

Finally, he moved toward a bench and I watched him as he sat down, taking a long drink from the red plastic cup in his hand. He glanced at me again, very quickly then away, and even from where I sat, he looked slightly angry. Was he still mad about the motorcycle? When I thought about it, he’d been angry, or at least tense, two of the three times I’d seen him since he’d been back. Was that about his dad? That would make sense, although I sensed his anger was at me, or with me. I just wished I understood why.

I thought back to the week before when I’d come here, and we’d sat together in the barn. I wanted that intimacy back. I wanted it to be just him and me again and not all these people, all this noise, and the way I felt out of place in the crowd, even with Cole’s warm body next to mine as he chatted and laughed.

I thought, too, about how things were the same now, but also different. All three of us were back in the same town, but we’d all grown up in the last four years. I had been a confused, overwhelmed, longing-filled girl just dipping my toes in the swirling water of romantic relationships when they’d left for college. I didn’t have much more experience now, but I knew myself better, understood the responses of my body. I was never going to love Cole as more than a friend. It was Preston I still loved, and whether or not he felt the same for me, his brother would never—could never—be a substitute.

I hoped Cole had come to the same realization and wouldn’t try to kiss me tonight because I would have to tell him no. We were better as friends. I wouldn’t go so far and tell him the reason. That the white-hot shattering feeling inside me existed for Preston but not for him. And it did no one any good to pretend it was, or to tell the lie that the absence of it didn’t matter. I’d always settled in my life—but now I realized pursuing anything more than friendship with Cole would be exactly that, I couldn’t do it. Not just because of myself, but because of Cole. He deserved a woman who was going to light up every time he entered the room. Not one who was going to look over his shoulder for a glimpse of the man she really wanted.