Page 93 of Take Me Home

My sister rolls her eyes and crosses her arms. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think Wayne was the one standing in front of me right now.”

Knowing she has a point, I close the box and place it back in the pantry. I’m not hungry, anyway. Crossing the room, I remove a water glass from the cabinet and fill it with cool water from a pitcher in the fridge.

“Have you talked to her?” My sister’s voice is low, gentle.

Draining my glass, then refilling it, I look at Poppy. “Who?”

She arches one eyebrow. “You’re being an ass. You’ve been unbearable ever since she left. What happened between you two?”

I drag a hand through my damp hair, resting my glass on the counter with a sigh. “She didn’t tell you?”

Poppy shakes her head.

“I ended things before we got in too deep…before we hurt each other.”

“Well, that was stupid.” Poppy’s brow furrows in confusion.

I close my eyes. “I let her go. I gave her freedom to figure out what she wants.”

Poppy studies me. “It sounds like you took the choice away from her. What if she wanted to choose you?”

“We never would’ve worked,” I say, shoving my hands in my pockets.

“Do you honestly believe that?” She pushes. “Because from where I’m sitting, it looked like you were already halfway in love with her.” I feel Poppy’s watchful gaze on my profile. “It’s the flying, isn’t it? You can’t shake the fear of flying after Mom and Dad’s accident.”

“You’re reading into this.” I sniff, feigning indifference. “I only met her three weeks ago, Poppy.”

When I don’t answer, she stands. “You can lie to me all you want…but don’t lie to yourself.”

And with that, she turns and walks up the stairs.

Frustration hums through my limbs, the need to take out my rage making me feel like a trapped animal. I head toward the front door, stepping into my boots and yanking my coat on. The best way to clear my mind is out in nature, with Butch.

Ten minutes later, my stallion is saddled up and we’re trekking across my family’s farm. Without even realizing where I’m going, I wind up in what used to be my haven. Now, it just reminds me of Hattie. Of the way she kissed me, and the way she yelled at me.

Butch whinnies, stepping to the side. With his restless movements, I realize we’ve stopped and I’m staring at the open field. Needing to feel anything but sadness, I signal with my heels for Butch to gallop. He trots, then his stride gets faster. Until we’re rushing across the open land, the wind in my face, the sun glinting off Butch’s sleek, black neck.

I let him run until he gets tired, sensing he needs this as much as I do. Butch loves action, craves movement. He’s a lot like me, and I’d forgotten how much I enjoy this. How I used to allow time and peace for my mind, to think and to feel. Before losing my parents, I allowed my emotions to take up space. I’d allow myself to marinate in my thoughts, to work through whatever I was feeling.

Until it hurt too much to do so, and then I pushed everything away to protect myself. Obviously, it didn’t do me a bit of good. Now I’m a ball of frustration. Every fiber of my body is pulled taut with pent-up rage and grief.

It took a spitfire with wild red hair to remind me how alive I am when I’m aware of that pesky organ inside my chest.

I’m not halfway in love with Harriet Townsend…I’m far past that. My love for her runs deeper than anything I’ve felt before. I’d move heaven and earth to have her here with me right now, I’d rebuild Hank’s guest cabin from the ground up, I’d move to California…hell, I’d even force myself to get on a plane.

It’s that thought that has my eyes widening, like I’m seeing for the first time. I would do anything for Hattie, even conquer my fear of flying.

I convinced myself I was being selfless by ending things, that I was giving her all the control. But she was right, so was Poppy. I took the choice away from her to protect myself.

I may not know how we’ll make this work, or what the future holds. I can’t guarantee my heart won’t get broken, but one thing is perfectly clear…

I can’t live without Hattie.

CHAPTER 36

Hattie

Oakley flies over the highest jump I have, soaring almost as high as she is tall. She lands with a graceful, perfect arch. I lean forward with the impact. She trots forward proudly.