Page 47 of Even if It Hurts

“Yeah,” she mumbled her agreement. “But Aunt Ada just sat there, listening. After a while, she asked Dad if he was done, then got up and left. So, I dunno what that means for you or yourridiculous excuse of a job.”

A scoff bled from my lips.

When I didn’t add anything, Wren scooted closer to me and lowered her voice even more. “Does this job really mean that much to you?”

“I love it,” I said without hesitation and knew my answer would’ve been the same even if Asher Briggs hadn’t been in the picture. “But even if I didn’t, I wouldn’t wanna go back into the fields or the office. I’ve never wanted to be there, Wren.”

“I know.” When my eyes darted to hers, she slanted her head. “I’ve always known. I mean, I didn’t know what you were doing at college, but you’re my big sister. I know you. If anyone had ever really paid attention to you, they would’ve seen the way you had to fake your smiles every time Mom and Dad talked about the fields or the way you always looked exhausted before we ever got out into them.”

Tears stung the backs of my eyes at her words. Words that showed I hadn’t been able to fool everyone. Words that negated Jackson’s.

“I know you. You’re country down to your soul, and that includes farming and ranching.”

“Really?” I asked, the word low and thick as it scraped past the knot in my throat.

She shrugged. “So, what are you gonna do?”

“Keep working, like I told them I was going to. But the rest—Mom and Dad...Jackson—that’s what I can’t figure out.”

Wren was silent for a long while before she hesitantly said, “I’ve never seen Jackson like that.”

“I haven’t either.” I cleared my throat and amended, “Except this morning.” When Wren gave me a questioning look, I just shook my head before continuing. “He was always frustrated with me once I left for school, sure, but not like this. I’m just worried I created this version of him.”

Wren’s lips parted and shut so many times as if she was trying to talk herself out of saying something.

“What is it?” I finally asked.

“Do you still love him?”

“Of course I do,” I said automatically.

Wren’s eyebrows drew close as she leaned toward me. “Do you, Lainey? Because you used to spend every free moment with Jackson. And you came straight home without even knowing he was here. You hardly spend any time with him anymore.”

I studied her as I thought of how to explain the wrenching in my chest every time I thought of Jackson and finally said, “Things are just different. They’ve been strained ever since I got home. Understandably, considering what I did.”

“Or maybe you just don’t love him anymore,” she whispered. “Maybe you’re afraid to admit that, along with finding your passion, you grew apart from him. And maybe he grew apart from you too.”

Suspicion rose up inside me at the way she carefully worded the last sentence, as if sheknewJackson had grown apart from me. But something stopped me from asking her to elaborate. Maybe it was because she was right.

Or maybe it was my own guilt over my unexpected feelings for Asher Briggs. Over knowing my thoughts had strayed to himfar too often the past year, and even more this past week, when they shouldn’t drift to him at all.

And to my horror, I found my head shakily dipping in a nod.

When my sister mirrored the movement, I bent closer and lowered my voice. “You’ve had...”—I tried to think before giving up with a light laugh—“so many boyfriends. Have you ever loved any of them?”

“All of them,” she said without hesitation.

Adoration warmed my chest at the easy confidence in her response. Even though I doubted she’d ever had anything like I’d had with Jackson, I had no doubt she believed the words she’d just said.

My sister loved hard and loved freely—something I’d always admired about her.

“Has your heart ever switched up on you when you were with one of them?” I finally asked and held my breath as I waited for her response—waited for her to realize what I was really saying and to call me out on it.

Because I was sure that’s what happened to me.

The moment when Asher Briggs pressed his lips to mine, my heart had switched up on me.

I’d told myself hundreds of times that I’d romanticized or imagined the entire thing, but I’d known it was real when I’d turned around this week to find him staring at me with all that brooding intensity, inciting the same reaction from months before.

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