Page 62 of Your Love

My heart aches as I plead with him. “Landry, please look at me.”

He finally turns those piercing amber eyes towards me, and I can see the pain etched in every line of his face. It guts me to know that I am the source of that pain. “I don’t know what I’m doing right now,” I continue, my voice trembling. “But I know I need to stay in Texas, at least for now. I have school figured out, and my therapist, and my parents—it’s where I need to be.”

He studies me for a moment, his gaze intense. “Do you remember everything?” he asks softly. “Every single thing?”

Tears well up in my eyes as I nod, unable to speak.

“But you don’t love me anymore?” he asks, his voice breaking.

My throat tightens as I struggle to find the words. “I will always love you,” I choke out. “But right now, that’s not what this is about. I’m taking time to love myself and face everything from my past so that I can move forward without any emotional baggage.”

He stares at me with a mix of sadness and understanding. “Are you sure this is what you want?” he asks gently.

“No,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. “But I’m learning that there’s a difference between what I might want and what I should do.”

His eyes soften at my response. “I will wait for you,” he says, his voice filled with determination. “I’ve told you that before, and I meant it.”

I take a deep breath, trying to gather my courage. “Landry, I need you to really hear me right now,” I say, my voice shaking slightly. “I mean, really hear me.”

He nods, his gaze never leaving mine. The sadness that stretches across his face makes my heart ache.

“You cannot wait for me.” My voice cracks with emotion. “I don’t know what my future holds, but I will be back in Texas for at least the next year. I’m finishing my Associate’s degree there before I consider moving anywhere else.”

“I don’t care how long it takes,” Landry says firmly.

“But I care. That’s what I’m trying to tell you. I care about your heart, even though it might not seem like it right now. I can’t move forward knowing that you are waiting here for something I can’t promise.”

“But you remember everything. You know how much we love each other.”

“I do. And that’s exactly why I need you to promise me you will let us go. Because I love you, and I won’t continue to hurt you. If you love me, I mean genuinely love me, you will let me go.”

Chapter 28

“How’s It Going To Be”

Four Years Later... Kerri - Age 23, 1993

As I approach the farm, my body tenses, and my heart races when I spot a familiar vehicle parked by the barn. I can’t believe he’s still driving that old truck. Memories flood my mind—both good and bad—as I try to make sense of his unexpected presence. This is not a conversation I was prepared to have yet, although deep down, it’s needed.

The air smells of freshly cut grass and earth, with a hint of lingering rain from earlier in the day. The sun casts long shadows across the fields, giving everything a warm, golden hue. A gentle breeze carries the sounds of birds chirping and the distant lowing of cows. It fills my senses even as my heart hammers in my chest and my head dizzies with anticipation.

The old wooden barn doors creak open, revealing him standing inside. I can only catch a glimpse of his back as he effortlessly lifts and shifts the hay bales. His tanned skin glistens with sweat from hard work, highlighting the rippling muscles that strain under the weight. Every movement is fluid and powerful, just like how he plays hockey, and I can’t help but admire the strength and grace in every sinewy line.

He looks up, and our eyes meet. Time seems to freeze for a moment as we take one another in. A thousand unspoken words hang in the air between us, begging to be heard.

“Landry,” I gasp. “I wasn’t expecting you to be here.”

“And yet here I am,” he replies, his accusing tone cutting deep.

“Papa said you don’t work on the farm anymore,” I manage to reply through the lump in my throat.

He turns his back and continues working. “I don’t, but he needed some extra help with the delivery.”

I shift my weight back and forth on my feet. “That’s really nice,” I hate how small my voice sounds when saying those words. “Um, I didn’t realize that you still helped out around here.”

He moves another haybale like it weighs nothing. “Why would you?” His tone is accusatory and biting. “It’s not like we know anything about each other’s lives anymore.” Each word is like a sharp dagger piercing through me and leaving a trail of pain in its wake.

I can feel the temperature dropping around us. Our tension is heavy, filled with years of unspoken words and unresolved feelings.