Unbreakable (Cloverleigh Farms, #4)(64)

“Yes.”

“So do it now—I’ll have the memory at midnight.”

He slanted his head over mine, and our lips met fully and openly. When he would have pulled away, I put a hand on the back of his neck and drew out the length of the kiss, my body warming as his arms moved from my shoulders to wrap around my back. We kissed deeply and intimately, but less impatiently than in my bedroom—this kiss was the beginning of something. A new year, a new life, a new hope. I felt the ropes of doubt and distrust that had been strapped so tight around my heart begin to loosen.

Suddenly the music got louder, and a voice rang out. “Mom?”

Henry and I jumped apart, and I opened my eyes to see Whitney standing in front of the open barn door, Keaton and Mack’s girls filing out behind her.

“Whitney!” I exclaimed, exchanging a frantic glance with Henry. “What are you guys doing out here?”

“We were coming to look for you. You said you’d be right back with the sparklers, and it’s been like an hour.” Her face registered shock and dismay as she looked back and forth from me to Henry to me again. “What’s going on?”

“Oh, well, we went to get them, uh, Henry and I did, and—and I couldn’t remember where I put them. We had to find them.” I could hardly think. My heart was hammering in my chest. Had they seen us kissing?

I had my answer a second later, when Whitney shook her head and said. “Just friends, huh?” Then she swept past me and took off running toward the house.

I whirled around and watched her moving farther away. “Whitney, come back! It’s freezing and you don’t have a coat on!”

“I don’t care!” I heard her yell.

I faced the confused, shivering kids again and shoved the bag at Keaton. “Here are the sparklers. Take them inside and divide them up, okay? I need to go talk to your sister.”

“Okay.” He took the bag from me and scratched his head. “Is she coming back?”

“I hope so. Go on in now.” When they’d all gone back inside, I turned to Henry, who looked as shell-shocked as Keaton. “I have to go.”

“Of course. I’m sorry, Sylvia,” he added resolutely. “It’s my fault.”

“It’s not.” I shook my head, fighting tears. “It’s mine. I should have known this would happen.” For a moment, I rested my forehead on my fingertips. “God, what was I thinking?”

“Sylvia—” Henry reached for me, but I pulled my arm away.

“Let me go,” I said, starting toward the house. “I have to find her.”





Eighteen





Sylvia





The garage door was open when I reached the house. As soon as I let myself in the back door, I could hear crying upstairs.

I hurried up the steps, her sobs growing louder as I approached her door. If possible, my heart grew even sicker. I tried the handle, but it was locked. I knocked a few times.

“Whit? Can I come in please?”

“No!”

“Honey, please. Let’s talk about this.”

“No! You’ll just lie to me again!”

I put both palms on the door. “I promise you, I will tell you the complete truth, Whitney. Just let me in.”

“I don’t want to live here anymore!”

I took a deep breath. “Okay. Can we talk about it?”

“I’m going to live with Grandma and Grandpa Baxter in Arizona!”

If the situation hadn’t been so serious, I might have laughed. Brett’s mother and father were completely hands-off grandparents, other than sending a check on birthdays and Christmas. “Have you spoken to them?”

“Not yet. But I’m packing right now!”

I rested my forehead against the door and closed my eyes, reminding myself what it felt like to be thirteen on a good day—all the confusing emotions, the conflicting thoughts, the yearning to grow up paired with the strange ache to stay a child forever, the unwavering certainty that no one understood you. Whitney was dealing with all that plus the fear of abandonment the divorce had caused. I didn’t blame her for wanting to leave before she could be left. I wanted to reassure her she was never going to lose me. I wanted her to know I was on her side, and I understood her fears.

But first, I needed her to let me in.

“Maybe I could help you pack,” I called through the door.

She didn’t say anything, and a moment later, the door opened. “Fine,” she said, swiping her nose on the back of her hand. Then she spun around and went back to throwing clothes in her suitcase.

I sat on the bed and took her favorite stuffed animal onto my lap—a raggedy bear she’d slept with since she was a baby. I hadn’t seen it in a while. “You don’t like it here anymore?”

“No.” She began shoving cosmetics into a makeup case on her dresser.

I sighed. “Then I guess I’ll have to pack too.”

“Where are you going?”

“Wherever you go. I can’t live without my Whitney. And we’ll have to bring Keaton too—I need both my babies.”

“Why? You don’t love us.”

Even though I knew it was her anger and fear talking, the words hurt. I forced myself to see beyond them. “Of course I do.”