Savannah turned toward him too. “Shouldn’t I? Isn’t that what you do when you’re a family? When you love someone?”
See, when she said stuff like that, it was really hard to look at her as a prissy, pencil-skirt-wearing City Girl he just wanted to get dirty. She was more and morereal. And more and more someone he liked.
“Yes,” he admitted. He stroked his thumb over the back of her hand. “Butherlove foryoushould make it so that she wants your dreams and your happiness too.”
Savannah nodded. “I know. She does feel bad. For the most part, we just don’t talk about it. We kind of pretend that I come home to visit via car, no matter how far away I am. We just don’t say ‘airport’ or ‘flight’ or anything related when I’m there visiting.”
Theo blew out a breath. “She probably needs therapy,” Theo said bluntly.
But Savannah wasn’t offended. “Yeah. She does.”
And now Theo wanted Savannah to travel. A lot. All over the world. Wherever she wanted to go.
Which meant she definitely couldn’t stay here on the bayou with him.
Which meant he needed to stop having any deeper or softer feelings for her.
Dammit.
“So, you see how to get back to town,” he said, pointing out the window unnecessarily.
“Yeah. Easy.”
“Exactly.” He met her eyes. “You’re not stuck here.”
God, why did that feel like it had a whole bunch of extra meaning? Not only was she a City Girl and he knew better than to try to convince her to stay, but this onelegitimatelydidn’t want to be stuck on the bayou.
She wet her lips. “Okay.” She paused. Then said, “Thank you.”
“Of course.”
Before he said, or did, anything stupid—like kissing her and asking her if she’d take him on an airplane for the first time—he pulled the truck up onto the main road, whipped around, and started back down the dirt road he’d driven hundreds of time.
Back toward the cabin he loved, nestled along the bayou, where he could be alone, just outside the town where he’d spent most of his life and where he’d always planned to spend the remainder of it.
So why did he suddenly have the desire to see Mount Rushmore and the Golden Gate Bridge?
Fuck.
“Can I ask you a question?” Savannah asked after about two minutes of silence.
No. That seemed like a very bad idea.
“Okay.”
“Do you feel the same way about Autre, and the bayou, that my parents feel about New York? Is that why you never leave?”
Yeah, see, that was definitely a little confusing. He could relate to her parents. Not the fear part, but the I’ve-got-everything-I-need-right-here part. The idea that just beinghomewas where he was happiest and he didn’t need anything more.
Yet, he was fully Team Savannah in her story. He wantedherto have everything she wanted and fuck everyone who felt differently or was trying to hold her back.
He cleared his throat and shifted on his seat. “Yeah,” he finally said. “This is home. It’s got everythingIneed. I’ve never felt the desire to go anywhere else.”
He could feel her studying him, but he fought the urge to look over and make eye contact now.
“Your parents still live here in Autre?”
“No, actually.” He took a deep breath. “My brother was killed when we were teenagers. An explosion at the community center. A freak gas line leak. Killed several people. He was one of them. After that, my mom couldn’t stay here. And my dad had to go with her to keep the marriage together. They’re in North Carolina with her family—her mom and dad and siblings.”