Page 26 of Your Love

She’s going to make me say it. “I understand you’re not attracted to me.” I try to sound firm and understanding and not at all pathetic.

Laughter echoes off the walls of the truck.

Ouch.

“Oh, Landry,” she says. “Bless your heart.”

My cheeks flush with embarrassment as I try to articulate my feelings. “It’s like...like I’m being insulted, but I’m not sure,” I admit. “What do you mean?”

Kerri’s gaze searches mine for understanding. “It means that what you’re saying isn’t true—that I’m not attracted to you,” she clarifies, shaking her head in disbelief at my confusion.

I stutter, my eyes widening in surprise. “So, you are attracted to me?”

She lets out another playful laugh, her cheeks dimpling as she speaks. “Have you looked in the mirror lately? Of course I am. Ever since the day you showed up and got wildflowers for Paisley.”

I rub my forehead, perplexed. “I’m so confused.”

Her cheeks flush, and she fiddles with the seam of her overalls before meeting my gaze. “I have to admit something,” she says softly. “Ever since we first met, I found myself drawn to you. But as I got to know you better, I saw how kind and genuine you are—and it only made me like you even more.”

I can’t find the right words; my mouth is suddenly desert-dry, and my mind is blank.

“Okay?” I manage to stammer out.

She takes a deep breath, and her eyes meet mine. “I need to explain to you why I suggested we stay friends,” she says, her voice trembling. “It’s about something much bigger—something that happened long before I met you.”

I see the way her brow furrows and her eyes dart nervously as we sit in the car. I unbuckle my seatbelt and lean over to release hers, trying to ease her discomfort. “It’s a beautiful night. Let’s sit outside,” I suggest.

She nods and gladly climbs out of the truck when I open the door for her. I lower the tailgate and help her up, then sit down beside her, our legs dangling off the back of the truck.

After a moment, she begins speaking. “I’m going to tell you why I left Texas. The real reason.”

Chapter 11

“Running Up That Hill”

Landry - Age 18, 1988

“Ileft to escape my ex-boyfriend.”

I hadn’t expected that. My molars grind as my brain works out why a woman would have to flee her home to get away from a man. Somehow, I keep my face neutral as she continues.

As she reminisces, her voice wavers with emotion. “I’ll never forget the day I met him. It was freshman year. He was a junior, almost seventeen, and so cool compared to us nerdy underclassmen.” She sighs and runs a hand through her hair. “It was surreal when he showed interest in me, a nobody. She looks away, lost in memories. “He was nice. Everyone loved him. Quarterback—an all-American guy. He was great on paper.”

“I take it he wasn’t that way in real life?”

A sigh escapes her lips as she continues. “He was for a while. By the time he wasn’t, he had already done so much damage that I couldn’t trust my thoughts anymore.”

Tension coils in the pit of my stomach as I listen. If this was leading where I suspect it is, I have a long drive ahead to Texas to bury a body.

“For the first few months, he was everything I’d ever dreamed of in a boyfriend. He doted on me, showering me with love and attention. He was patient and kind to my family and friends. But as time passed, I began to notice the small, manipulative things he was doing. He planted seeds of doubt about my friends, convincing me that they talked behind my back and weren’t good people. In the end, he succeeded in isolating me from everyone but himself. I had no experience before him, so I believed it was a normal part of being consumed by someone else’s love.”

My voice is strained and tense as I inquire, “How long were you two together?”

Her reply comes hesitantly, almost as if she’s afraid to say it out loud. “I ended things about eight months ago, years too late,” she reveals. “Before I tell you what happened, I want you to know that I’m not proud of it. I’ve always prided myself on being strong and resilient, but this experience showed me that I have a long way to go.”

I reach out and touched her arm. “Don’t say that,” I plead, my voice filled with desperation. “Everyone makes mistakes.”

She shakes her head, casting my words off her guarded exterior. “Wait until you hear this before you decide,” she says pointedly. “After a few months, I was isolated. That’s when he started bringing up the idea of us having sex. I was fifteen and wasn’t ready, but he somehow made it seem like I owed it to him because he chose me. I didn’t want to disappoint him.”