Page 32 of The Land that Binds

I sighed and continued. “I never told her this, but things with Chris didn’t feel the same at that point.”

Alana hadn’t told anyone about the conversation she and Chris had had that day three years ago, when the two of them were sitting in the hospital waiting room, waiting and waiting and waiting. She remembered biting her fingernails. She remembered Chris pleading for her to stop.

He’d grasped her hand and held it tight, pulling it to his lap.

She sat there, thinking about how strange it felt for him to touch her. How foreign it was, despite the fact that they’d held each other’s hands hundreds of times in those six years.

His eyes were on their hands as well, and she could sense it. Sense that he felt the same.

“Is this still working?” he whispered. “Are we working?”

She hesitated. “Do you think it is?”

“I’m not sure if I know anything anymore.” He released her hand and rubbed his eyes. “I can’t imagine a world without Sybil in it.”

She worried her bottom lip, thinking of all the ways Chris had easily folded into their family. How he made her mother laugh, even when she was at her sickest.

Alana knew they were growing apart. Yet she couldn’t fathom taking away any source of joy from her mom right now. Chris included.

Their conversation was interrupted by Otto, who’d come scrambling through a set of swinging doors. “Alana, Chris. Come now.”

She shook off the memories of that horrible day and focused on the feel of the grass between her toes and the soft pink color of the sky. To Leo, she said, “We both knew it was time to break up. But the timing was awful and it made my mom so happy to know we were still together. So we kept up the ruse.”

“And you still considered getting married?”

“When she was alive? Yes. He loved her just as much. He would have done it to make her happy.”

“So why didn’t you?”

“Her cancer spread really quickly, and we suddenly didn’t have much time left.”

“What kind of cancer was it?”

“Breast cancer. Stage four.” Alana sniffled, a single tear slipping down her cheek. She wiped it with the back of her hand. “When she said goodbye, she wanted us both in the room, and she gave me her ring, a stunning vintage gold band with an opal stone. She told us to wait until the time was right.”

Leo didn’t reply. He simply gave her the space to continue. The next question was already implied.

“I took the ring and I left. I didn’t tell anyone.” She squeezed her eyes shut, hoping the next part would be easier, even though she knew better. What she did would never be justifiable. It was awful, no matter how you worded it. “I sold it,” she confessed. “Her ring. I sold it for money so I could get away.”

A long silence stretched between them. Alana watched the cotton candy clouds, the long stringy strands moving slowly west.

“Where did you sell it?” he asked calmly.

She blew out a breath. At least he wasn’t angry at her or judging her for what she did. But why would he? He wasn’t the one who needed to know the truth. To him, this family heirloom didn’t matter as much. Eventually she would have to confess it to the rest of them.

“At a pawn shop in Reno, next to the bus station where I got off. I ran out of my savings at that point, and I didn’t have a place to stay. I needed a hotel.” She covered her face with her hands. “It saw me through another week, enough to get me to California. I helped with a few harvests out there, met people, crashed on couches. I didn’t have the heart to find a place of my own.”

Leo was silent for a beat. “Maybe because your home is here?”

She rubbed her eyes. “Something like that.”

She felt a gentle hand circle her right wrist. Leo pried it away and pulled her arm down to the grass, then squeezed. His hand was calloused and rough—worker hands, winemaker hands. Yet his touch was warm and comforting. That seemed to be a theme with this man. Hard working, yet gentle. Hard, but also soft. Alana wasn’t sure how both could coexist in one person. Alana felt she was full of only hard edges and lines. There wasn’t anything soft about her.

She expected more questions, but Leo remained quiet. They lay there until the sun dipped below the horizon and the mosquitos buzzed around them. His hand remained on her wrist the whole time, and at one point, his thumb traced back and forth against her pulse. She didn’t mean to cry in front of him, but at that small act of kindness…the tears fell freely.

Leo slipped a hand between the small of her back and the soft grass, wrapping his fingers around her waist and pulling her close. He tucked her to his chest, his free hand combing her hair as she continued to cry. His body was warm against her cold cheek, her tears seeping into his cotton tee.

She hadn’t realized how much she craved that kind of comfort. Though after rehashing what she did, Alana didn’t feel she deserved any size of comfort at all.