Page 59 of The Boy from Half Moon

“It’s not that,” he said, still dragging his foot across the gravel. “I don’t have money to purchase Cokes,” he confessed, digging his hands deep into his jeans pockets. “We don’t receive pay from our jobs. I never have money.”

His admission shocked me. What young man didn’t at least have running-around pocket money? “They don’t pay you for working?” I asked, needing confirmation of something I couldn’t even begin to fathom.

He shook his head. “No. We work for the better of the community. We have no needs that aren’t provided for; therefore, we get nothing extra.”

The sadness I felt at hearing this news hurt my heart. Here stood a grown man, a wonderfully sensitive man, and he didn’t have the one thing that I couldn’t imagine living without—money. And yet, he was prideful and strong-willed. His life was as foreign to me as I’m sure mine was becoming to him.

“I’d still like you to show me what you’re talking about,” I urged. “And since you’re paying for the gas to drive there, I’d still like to buy those Cokes, so we can still count it as a date. A date you asked me on.”

He lifted his face and gazed at me. “That right there,” he whispered, pointing at me and tearing up.

I looked behind me, wondering what. “What?” I asked, turning back to him.

“That’s what you do every time I feel bad or ashamed. You do that.”

“Is it bad?” I asked, worried I’d unintentionally hurt him. “I’m sorry, Luke.”

“You save me every time, Tate. What you do, is you save me from feeling bad about myself,” he explained. “No one has ever done that for me. No one acts like I matter,” he added.

I stepped closer and reached my hand out for him to hold. He hesitated, but I kept my hand out. He nervously looked around before committing to the act, but instead of holding my hand, he tapped my fingers with his, and we held them there, not so much holding as touching.

“You do matter,” I whispered, my voice cracking from the incredibly tender moment we were sharing. “And just so you know, I’m not hung up on money being what a person brings to a relationship, Luke. I’d never want you to think that money was all I could bring to one, and I would want you to bring so much more than money to ours.”

“If we were to have one?” he asked.

“If we were to have one,” I agreed.

We locked eyes, and both of us began to smile. I’d learned some things about Luke in that exchange, and I hoped he learned something about me as well. He didn’t know that I’d had a relationship where money ruled. And I hadn’t known he lived in a world where having no money was the rule. The reality of who we were in the same world seemed to balance out in my mind.

“Still want to show me that something?” I asked.

His hand encircled mine. The love that emanated from this boy’s eyes was enough to melt polar ice in January. I didn’t know where we were going, and I’m not sure that mattered. After a life of careful planning, plotting each and every goal, financial success being the biggest goal, and obsessively worrying about every detail of my life, I decided right there and then to take a risk. I’d heard the greatest rewards in life came when you risked something important to achieve it.

My heart is important. Why not risk that on him?

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO: Luke

Having Tate sitting beside me as we drove to the outskirts of town caused my heart to swell. I imagined we were mates and out for a drive. He belonged to me in my imagination, and I was proud he did.

I caught him glancing at me several times as we drove, mostly in silence. Maybe I should have been self-conscious, but his staring didn’t bother me. I figured he wanted to discover stuff about me that perhaps he couldn’t when we were face-to-face. When he wasn’t looking, I stared at him every chance I got, so I guess we were even.

I glanced at him, catching him looking again. “What?” I asked.

“You’re very handsome, Luke,” he said. “You could model, you know that?”

“Nah,” I replied, waving a dismissive hand his way. “You’re the model.”

“People must tell you that you’re good-looking all the time,” he said. “I mean, I was stunned when I first laid eyes on you.”

“Sure wished you woulda told me that back then,” I teased. “Would’ve saved me a lot of wondering.”

“Can I ask you a question about the ranch?” he asked, twisting in the seat to face me, adjusting the seat belt, and looking more serious. I nodded that he could. “When do you choose a mate in your community?”

That wasn’t the question I thought he’d ask for some reason. “I suppose any time after a girl you might fancy turns sixteen,” I answered. “Franklin likes the boys to be at least eighteen.”

As soon as I said Franklin’s name, I regretted it. I knew further questions would arise. “And who is Franklin?”

“He is our spiritual leader,” I stated. “Maybe what you’d consider a pastor or priest,” I added.

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