Page 9 of Growing Into Love

CASS

No response.

It’s been twelve hours since I texted Jaz and…crickets.

I am freaking. The Fuck. Out.

I barely slept last night, constantly lurching upright to see if he’d responded or—even better—if this whole thing had been a dream and I never sent the message at all. But there it was, in all its embarrassing glory.

I want to walk into the sea, never to be heard of again. I want to throw myself off the cliffs of Dover. If I had a catapult, I’d shoot myself into the sun. The worst part is I did this to myself. I wasn’t careful. I could have avoided this whole situation if I’d double-checked which damn thread I was on in the first place. Now I can’t stop imagining him receiving said text. The expression on his face. Shock, probably. Disdain? Judgment? Discomfort? What must he think of me? What if he tells someone? If anyone in this town finds out, then everyone will know. That’s how Hart’s Crossing works. My family would know. Declan would know. My cheeks flame and tears prick my eyes. I didn’t think my mortification could get any worse, but I keep finding new levels of humiliation.

Clearly, Jaz sees me the way the rest of my family does. Like a little kid. I bet this only made that line clearer. God, what was I thinking? Why did I let Zara goad me into sexting?

They need to invent a technology where you can take a text message back. It’s the twenty-first century. There are self-driving cars now, we can’t sort out SMS tech? I think every woman in the world would agree that this should be a top priority.

I tend to the morning feed schedule with my phone stuck in my back pocket, every part of me waiting for that telltale buzz. Maybe I should write again and apologize. Maybe I should say I was texting someone else! That could work. And make me seem sexy and mysterious, like I’ve got a hundred blokes on sext-alert.

But when I take out my phone, I don’t even know how to form those words—reading the sext again in the harsh light of day, I feel pathetic. Of course he hasn’t responded. Jaz is the sweetest, kindest person I’ve ever met. And I’m his best mate’s kid sister. Bet he had a nice little chuckle over this last night.

I bristle. He could’ve had the balls to write back though. It’s not that hard to sayhey was this meant for me? I would even take aLol think you got the wrong person.

My phone rings and I feel like I’ve been electrocuted after wanting it to do something, anything, for so many hours. But it’s only Zara.

“Hi,” I say wearily.

“Any news?”

“No.”

“Well, I think what you did was bold.”

“It’s only bold if I did it on purpose,” I point out.

“Yes, buthedoesn’t know it was an accident.”

I sigh. “My only hope is he thinks I meant to send it to someone else.”

“Yes!” Zara says, sounding far more triumphant than I feel. “I bet now he’s all tied up in knots wondering who you would send a text like that to.”

“The problem is, it’shim. And he hasn’t said anything back.”

“Then he’s a bigger idiot than I thought.”

“Didn’t know you thought he was an idiot,” I say grumpily.

“He’s had you making heart eyes at him for years, hasn’t he? And yet he keeps taking Theresa back like she’s some sort of blue-ribbon prize. If he can’t see how amazing you are, then he’s not worthy of you.”

I wish I believed that. Guess I can officially move forward now. Once the boiling hot shame flooding through me subsides. I rub my forehead. “I’ve got to load Gal into the lorry and take her to Del’s.”

Can’t believe this had to happen right before the Classic.

“Good luck! I hope Gal is okay traveling on a plane all by herself.”

“Me too,” I say. Now that the day has come, I’m terribly nervous about sending Gal off on a flight. And those nerves mixed with the embarrassment over the sext are giving me a stomachache.

Our younger farmhand, Jamie, helps me load her up. “Dec and the rest should be back later this afternoon,” I tell him.

“Richard and I can look after the farm till then,” he reassures me.

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