In the Weeds (Lovelight #2)(96)

Except everyone is already home for the day, and we finished up field work hours ago.

I tilt my head up and shadow my face with my hand. I catch a figure at the very edge of the field. Tall. Legs for miles. The back of her wrist pressed against her forehead.

My heart does something complicated in my chest. A nose-dive or a—a free fall. I can’t really focus on anything other than—

Evelyn. Standing in the middle of my field with a shovel, wearing a pair of loose faded jeans and her hair pulled into a ponytail. For a second, I think I'm hallucinating. A sugar-induced fantasy. Dreaming again, maybe. But then she straightens, tosses the shovel over her shoulder, and yells at me.

“Do you know how long I’ve been out here shoveling rocks?”

I’m frozen with my boots planted in the ground, one foot in front of the other, caught mid-stride. There’s a feeling in my chest that’s overwhelming, staggering, the burst of it brighter than the flowers at my feet and the sun at my back. I bite the corner of my mouth against my grin.

She’s looking at me like I’ve kept her waiting. A tilt to her brow like she’s pissed about it, too.

“Why are you shoveling rocks?” I call back. I keep my feet moving forward, helpless not to. I stop about an arm’s length away from her, my eyes unsure what to focus on first. Her messy hair, a sheen of sweat across her forehead. Dirt up to her elbows and in a line across her white t-shirt. She looks like she’s been personally kissed by the sun, all that skin just … shining.

I’ve missed her so much.

“Newbie does rock duty, right?”

I clear my throat and ignore the implication of what she’s saying. “You’ve been talking to Jeremy?”

“Jeremy has been talking to me,” she amends, her voice that low rasp I love. “Everyone has a lot of ideas.”

“Ideas about what?”

“For me to tell you how I love you,” she says simply, like she’s not driving that shovel in the center of my chest and breaking my ribcage right open for all her sunlight to come pouring through. A smile starts in her eyes, nudging at her bottom lip until she’s standing there and grinning at me, looking like every happy thought I’ve ever had. I take a step closer and she tilts her head back to keep her eyes on mine. “Josie’s suggestion involved fireworks.”

“Don’t need fireworks,” I grit out, my voice rough and tight. My hands ache to hold her. “Just need you.”

“I told you I was coming back,” she says. There is a perfect three inches of space between us and I want to pull her closer, feel her tucked against my chest. She inclines her head and considers me. “But I didn’t say it enough, and I know you appreciate action over words. I’ll prove it to you. I’m here. I’m staying here. You didn’t have to ask.”

“I did, though.” I give in to temptation and drag my pinky against the side of her hand. All of her fingers twitch on the handle of the shovel. “I needed to ask. Because words are important, too. You deserve that from me. I’m working on it.”

She smiles at me, gentle and shy and unbearably beautiful. “Okay.”

I nod. “Alright.”

“I did love your video,” she tells me. A whisper—a secret—a flush in her cheeks that deepens as I uncurl her fingers one by one. “Who knew you’d be the TikTok sensation between us, farmer boy?”

I tangle our fingers together and grip her hand in mine. “I missed you,” I say. “I missed you so much. I feel like I’ve been missing you the whole time I’ve known you.” I swallow hard. “Loving you, too.”

“Well, you don’t have to miss me anymore,” she says, her voice soft. A gust of wind comes to catch the words off her lips and twist them away. She squeezes my hand and I halve the space between us, my boots against hers. “We’re going to have to work on that.” At the confusion twisting my mouth, she clarifies. “When I told you I was coming back. You didn’t believe me.”

“I didn’t.”

I don’t remember hearing that promise, to be honest. I was too focused on the look on her face when I told her I wouldn’t settle for pieces. That what she was willing to give me wasn’t enough.

“If this is going to work—you need to trust what I feel for you, okay? I won’t ever lie to you.”

Her brown eyes search mine and I nod. “I’m working on that, too. I promise.”

“Good.” She tilts her head to the side, considering me. The sun shines on her skin and her hair clings to her neck. “I got a new job, you know. Down in Durham.”

The subject change leaves me grasping. I blink at her, confused. “Durham?”

I don’t care if it’s in Antarctica. I’ll buy a parka and learn how to speak penguin.

Her hand squeezes again, a deep press of her thumb in the center of my hand. The same way I do when everything around me is too loud and I need to calm down. “That’s where I went. The offices are headquartered in Durham but the job is remote. I need a change and this feels—this feels right. Finally.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” She tucks some hair behind her ear. “You know when I first got here, I had no idea why I picked this place. But I think somewhere in my head or my heart I knew this is where I needed to be. I need something slower, Beckett. Something deeper. A place where I can catch my breath and find my footing.” She holds my hand tight. “I need to be here. I want to be here.”