Page 53 of Your Love

“You can come over here,” Kerri says. “I’m still weak, and I’d rather not yell across the room.” Her voice is faint but determined as she motions for me to join her.

I move slowly and deliberately over to her side and then drop into the seat that her mother left unoccupied. I’m careful not to stand over her. My size is imposing as it is, and I’m self-aware enough to know that. I sit down and place my forearms on my knees.

“Could you share some details about Merrimack?” she asks eagerly, her eyes wide with curiosity. “I have faint memories from when I was a child, but they’re hazy. I’m hoping you can fill in the missing pieces for me.”

A warm smile spreads across my face as I reply, “Of course. You live on your family’s farm, and you’re a natural when it comes to taking care of all the animals. It’s awe-inspiring.”

Kerri’s face lights up with recognition. “Oh yes, Nana and Papa mentioned the farm when I spoke with them last night. They told me all about the new animals and how they’ve downsized.”

I nod before continuing, “And you’ve also made many close friends in town.

“I have?” she asks. “I remember wanting to keep everyone at a distance after what happened.”

I begin to relax more as we fall into conversation. “You did at first. But this group pulled you in. There are six of us, including you, and we’re very close friends. Some of us have known one another for years, and a couple found us in the last year of high school.”

“A couple?” she asks.

“Mhm. You and Ivy.”

She chews on her bottom lip. “I don’t remember. Who else is in this group?”

“My friends Taz and Delzy are also hockey players. They’re away at college. And you have a good friend named Sascha who’s also away at school. Ivy is in Merrimack, where I live.”

“I’ve gotten a few cards from them,” she says. “I haven’t read them yet.” She shrugs her shoulders. “It feels strange when I don’t remember them.”

“Makes sense,” I reply, looking down at my hands.

“Landry?”

At the sound of my name on her lips, I raise my gaze, and I’m met with determined blue eyes. They are bright and piercing, reflecting a sense of determination that was not there before. “You can look at me. I’m not scared anymore,” she speaks softly yet confidently.

I take in her appearance. Her body is adorned with bandages. “It’s difficult to see you like this,” I admit.

“Everyone says I’m going to get better, and this is the way to do it. So please look at me and tell me more about yourself.” And suddenly, the fire I know so well ignites within her once again.

“I go to State, and I’m the starting goaltender for the junior hockey team,” I share.

She looks intrigued but admits, “I don’t know much about hockey.”

I chuckle and she looks at me quizzically. “I actually taught you quite a bit. You know more than you realize.”

One side of her mouth quirks up in an apologetic smile.

“It’s okay. I don’t mind answering any questions that you have.”

“How long have we been dating?” she asks, her fingers absently twirling a strand of hair around them.

I wipe my sweaty palms against my jeans, trying to steady my nerves. “We’re getting straight into it,” I joke. “We were friends for about six months before we took the leap and started dating in November.” A fond smile tugs at my lips as I remember the night she confessed her feelings for me. She had been so nervous, her hands shaking as she bowled an eighty-nine at the bowling alley. She was so pissed off.

She wrestles with the sheets on her bed, pulling them with her fingers nervously. “Have we… had sex?” she asks.

I’m overcome with the need to express to her the depth of my feelings. Every time we’re together, it is as if the world stops spinning, and all that matters is the connection between our bodies. The way our hearts beat in sync conveys just how much we care for one another. But I tread carefully, not wanting to overwhelm her with flowery words or conjure up images in her mind that she may not want. So I simply answer, choosing my words carefully. “Yes, we dated for six months beforehand. We wanted to make sure you were ready and that everything was right.”

A warm hue spreads across her cheeks, a mix of both embarrassment and understanding. “I’m really sorry about all of this,” she says after a moment. Her eyes glisten with unshed tears as she looks up at me, her expression filled with sadness and guilt.

“Wildflower, you have nothing to be sorry about,” I blurt out, unable to contain the words any longer.

“Wildflower?”