Page 46 of A Bittersweet Summer

“Thanks for…” Cass whispers, and all I can do is sit perfectly still. There can be absolutely no friction in this position. “Thanks for doing this,” she says, her voice somewhat shaky.

“You’re…” Worry snakes its way into my chest. “You’re okay?” I ask, my voice a low hum.

Cass arches—just slightly. I don’t think it’s intentional, but I can feeleverything. My body is a livewire, and I grind my molars together to prevent my thoughts from spiraling. We have to get out of this fucking chair.

“Never better,” she answers, and I’m certain it’s my undoing.

Mustering all my strength, I force myself into restraint as my lips ghost the side of her neck, just slightly.

This is a performance, I remind myself.We are sitting around a fire with her ex. They’re poor excuses, and I know it. I’ve known for some time that I’m attracted to Cassidy Summers, and unfortunately for all of my well-made plans, I think she might be feeling the same way. The flush of her skin, the rise and fall of her chest, all of it feels like a perfect dance. I get to move—speak—and watch her respond in turn.

It makes me want to push the boundaries. It makes mewant.

And God, I want. Despite my better judgement in knowing exactly how things go when two people working on a farm get together. Despite my past relationship imploding. Despite my decision to keep work at the forefront of my thoughts—to make decisions that benefit the farm and to never become my parents, my body seems to fight my brain—whispering and urging me toward whatever it is that’s making Cass’s voice so God damn breathy.

I squeeze my eyes shut and summon restraint.

“It’s getting late,” I say. Every part of me cries out against what I’m about to do, but I know it’s the right decision. Taking her to the pond to swim, putting myself in this position, it’s all so hopelessly complicated. I enjoy Cass, and she told me herself how much she loves her job at Miller Run. I’d hate to ruin that by making her feel anything but safe and comfortable. And while she agreed to this, I’m the one who suggested it.

Anxiety swarms in me, buzzing with doubt. What if she’s only doing this because I’m her boss? What if I’ve crossed some sort of line? “I will need to get going soon,” I grind out.

“Right,” she says, and for the life of me, I can’t figure out how she’s feeling. She straightens her posture, but her lips are pulled down just slightly. She seems… disappointed. “I should probably go soon, too. Early day tomorrow.”

When she stands, I get the feeling I’ve done something wrong, but based on my logic, itisthe right thing to do.

It should be, anyway.

The feeling follows me as we part ways with Chad and his friends. It follows me as Cass’s hand lets go of mine by the house, as we say our goodbyes, and all the way into the front seat of my truck.

It’s there that I run my hand over my face, wondering why I can’t shake the feel of her skin or the heady way she leaned into me.

If wanting Cass is so wrong, why does it feel so fucking right?

Thirteen

Cass

Cool water runs over my hands as I try to scrub the nerves coasting through my blood.

I’m not sure why I’m so nervous, but I am.

The last time I introduced Gus to my friend group, I’d been engrossed in Chad’s high-profile lifestyle and was keenly aware that Gus hated that environment.

I’d invited Gus to a charity event. Dressed in a three-piece suit, he’d arrived with his hair styled per my instructions. He was still swimming in the suit—a result of how sick he’d been that year. Chad ignored him, and one of his friends, I can’t remember the woman’s name, had asked Gus if he was one of the kids receiving funds from the charity.

I’d been mortified. Less for myself and more for Gus, despite his ability to laugh off the comment, letting the woman know he was my brother and was there to support the fundraising.

Her icy gaze had raked down my brother’s body and back up before her curled lip circled around a chilly “Oh,” and she’d walked away.

Chad slept with her that night.

I’d only found that part out later.

Historically, I’ve kept things pretty separate between my friendships and my brother, August. There was always this nagging feeling that if I let him into whatever circle of friends I’d made, I wouldn’t be able to navigate the complications of our lives correctly.

It wasn’t shame regarding my brother, but a deep-seated fear that I would misstep somehow and make him feel anything other than fully a part of the group. I thought I’d be bombarded with questions—like there would be a constant tension strung around everyone and suffocating them.

That charity event had been my attempt at changing that, but all it did was serve to increase my fears. I think that’s why my housewarming party has me so jittery.