Page 83 of Yuletide Acres

Chapter 17

Poppy

Istare out the window, searching for answers that aren’t coming. Tears stream down my cheeks as my mind replays Marissa’s warm hug. Her words of love.

I don’t want to leave her. In just a few short weeks, she’s become my family. As close as I have to one, anyway.

But she almost died today, while in my care. I failed Dylan when he entrusted his most precious possession to me, and no matter how anyone spins it, I’m no hero.

Just like everyone else in my life, the universe threatened to rip her from my grasp.

I will miss her. I will miss Dylan. I know that he’s my true love, but we are as star-crossed as Romeo and Juliet.

My bedroom door creaks open and Dylan steps inside, latching the lock behind him. “We have a new bed, Poppy. Shouldn’t we try it out?”

I feign a smile, plopping onto the guest bed. “I’m okay here.”

He settles next to me, intertwining my fingers with his own. “Are you feeling any better?”

“What are you really asking me?” No point in dancing around it anymore.

Dylan chuckles, but his laughter lacks mirth. “Are you still leaving?”

“I think it’s best.”

“I think that’s a bullshit answer and a cop-out.”

I huff, my anger rising. “This coming from the man who snuck away in the middle of the night. That’s rich, Dylan.”

“I was wrong, Poppy. I regret doing that. Hell, I looked for you every year for three years, trying to atone for what I’d done. Wanting one more chance to make it right. To love you the way you deserve.” He cups my face, nuzzling my lips. “I don’t understand. These past few weeks have been amazing. Perfect. I can’t be the only one who felt it.”

“They were perfect, but they aren’t real, Dylan.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“I overheard you speaking with Susan.”

“What did I say?” The poor man looks perplexed at my admission.

“She mentioned you didn’t want more kids, and you agreed. But you said I wanted one, and you’d give me one because I deserved a family.”

“And I will.”

“I wouldn’t allow it. I don’t want you to father a child as some variety of penance. That’s not fair to anyone—not you or me or Marissa or a baby.”

“Is that why you’re leaving?”

“Not entirely. It’s just one of many reasons I know I don’t belong here.”

“Can I give you a few reasons why I think you do?”

I offer a sad shake of my head. “You’ll say all the right things and my heart already wants to stay.”

“Good. Listen to your heart.”

“I did. Once before. And it shattered. This time I have to let my head lead.”

“Lead you away from me. Poppy, I hate this.”

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