Page 109 of Never Let You Go

We walk away from the cow with the long lashes and Alexandra tenses under my hand.

“Are you bored? Are you cold?” I suddenly worry and pull her closer to me.

Her breath is shaky. What the fuck? Normally, I’d tell myself that’s the reason I don’t do relationships. It’s just too exhausting to read women.

With her, it’s different. I can tell now, she’s miserable.

But if I don’t understand why, I can’t fix it.

And, if I can’t fix it, what am I?

Worthless.

I turn her to face me and hug her, my hands stroking her back, soothing her nerves. “Hey,” I say. “Talk to me.” I trail kisses along her hair, inhaling the flowery scent of her shampoo. “Please?”

“I—I feel… overwhelmed.”

That gets a chuckle out of me. I tilt her chin up so her eyes are on mine. “You’re talking to a pro at being overwhelmed. Too many balls in the air. Just choose the ones that are the most important. You’ll pick the other ones up from the floor when you’re ready. They’re not going anywhere.”

She takes a deep breath.

“What’s got you overwhelmed?” I prod.

“Right now?” she asks, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth.

“Let’s start with right now.”

She waves a hand toward the farm. “This—this is so… great. And us,” now she waves her hand between us, “doomed. It’s hard.” She shuts her eyes and shakes her head.

“Yeah,” I say slowly, kneading the back of her head, feeling her relax under my touch. “What Lynn and Craig built, that’s pretty great, right?”

She nods.

“When I moved to Emerald Creek, I used to hang out here all the time. It was packed at my aunt and uncle’s, with Grace and Colton still at home, and everything they had going on. They took me under their wing, and they helped me out just as much as my own family. Lynn called me her misfit. Just like she did you, earlier.”

“You heard that?”

Of course I did. “I hear everything, when it comes to you.”

Her eyes travel over my face, so tender. “You never talk about your family. What is your mom like?”

I shrug. “She’s… I dunno. A nice person. Too nice. Gets walked all over.”

“By your stepfather?”

She remembers I have a stepfather? “For example.”

“She must miss you.”

“We’re in touch,” I say, feeling a little defensive.

“You felt rejected. Were rejected,” she corrects herself and clasps her hands behind my neck. Then she lays her head on my chest, her fingers twining in my hair.

She feels good right there.

“Felt rejected,” I admit.

“Too sensitive for your own good,” she says softly. “But you’re learning to deal with it.”

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