Page 19 of How to Kiss a Hawthorne Brother
“Can I ask you one question?”
She quickly nods. “Ask me a dozen if you want. I owe you the answers.”
“What changed?” I shove my hands into my lap, hiding them under the table. It’s the only way I know how to resist the urge to reach for her again.
Just friends. Just friends. Just friends.I repeat the mantra in my head like it’s the combination to a safe holding a million dollars. If I’m going to get through this summer, it has to stick.
“What do you mean?” she asks.
“What made you come home now when you haven’t for so long?”
Her eyes drop to her napkin. She picks it up, creasing it over and over.
“The house, mostly,” she says without looking up. “I left Mom to handle everything when Grandma Nora died, so when she asked for my help, I didn’t feel like I could tell her no.” She shrugs, disappointment clouding her expression. “But I’m also in a better place mentally. I’ve been working on owning my choices more and paying attention to my motivations. Yes, Mom always made me feel terrible for wanting to leave Silver Creek, but that doesn’t make it okay for me to stay away only because I wanted to makeherfeel terrible back. I don’t want transactional relationships like that. I just want to do the right thing. And coming home to help is the right thing.”
“I bought a place right up the street from your grandmother’s house,” I say. “You remember the trail we cut through the woods? From your grandma’s house over to the back orchard at Stonebrook?”
“That was so much work,” she says through her grin. “Worst afternoon activity ever.”
I chuckle. “Come on. You loved using the machete.”
She wrinkles her nose. “Okay, true. I definitely loved the machete.”
“Anyway. The trail is still there. And now it’s wide enough for a four-by-four. It wraps right behind my house. I use it all the time when I need to get to the farm quick.”
“Brody, we were literal trail blazers,” she says. “I feel so proud!”
“I think of you every time I use it.”
Her eyes jump to mine, an unspoken question in her gaze. If she only knew how frequently I think of her, how many things in my life remind me of her on a daily basis.
I clear my throat. “Your mom must be paying someone to keep the yard up. It still looks good.”
“The yard, and quarterly cleaning,” she says. “I guess she and Freemont come up every couple of months?”
“Yeah, I’ve seen them around. In the summer mostly. Probably escaping Florida heat.”
“I can’t think of any other reason she would have kept the house so long.”
“Honestly, I was surprised she moved out of it in the first place. As much as your mom always chastised you for wanting to get out of town, she didn’t waste much time before leaving herself.”
“Tell me about it. I still don’t understand. But that’s nothing new. It’s not like Mom and I have ever understood each other.”
My heart stretches her direction. I remember how annoyed she always was with her mom. Sometimes Kate would show up at the farm, not knowing or caring if I was home, because she needed somewhere to be thatwasn’ther own house. The last few years of high school, she probably spent more time in the goat barn with Mom than the rest of us did.
“It’s nice that we’re going to be neighbors,” Kate says.
I nod. “Yeah. I’m glad you’re back.” I almost chuckle to myself. Glad is such a small word when my actual emotions feel too big for my chest. Iamglad she’s home, but I’m also terrified.
“It was time,” she says simply. She shifts, her focus drifting before she takes a deep breath, like she’s recentering herself in the moment. When she finally lifts her eyes, they are clear and full of conviction. “I recognize I need to be better at facing hard things head-on. I don’t want to run away anymore.”
There is a heavy awareness in her expression, almost like an apology. But she doesn’t need to be sorry. Not to me.
Still, I smile, wanting her to know I understand. Whatever she’s offering, I accept it. “Is that what’s been happening all this time?” I joke. “And here I thought you were just traveling for work.”
She laughs, tension draining out of her body. “You think I didn’t pick this job on purpose? I knew what I was doing, Brody.” She smiles, her voice lilting. “It makes an excellent cover story.”
“You’re awful good at it for it to only be a cover story.”
