Page 109 of Touch the Sky
“My friends. They like you a lot.”
“Oh,” she says, a grin spreading over her face. She sits up a little straighter in her seat. “I’m glad to hear that. I like them too.”
“My mom likes you a lot too,” I blurt. “Everyone likes you a lot. You’re really, uh, settling in here well.”
I couldn’t have picked her apart from the La Cloche locals tonight. Almost as many people said hello to her on the street as they did to me, and she took it all in stride, asking after people’s pets and kids and home improvement projects.
That’s a true sign of belonging in La Cloche: knowing who’s adding a deck or getting new shingles.
“I hope so,” she says.
I can hear the note of nervousness in her voice, like she doesn’t quite believe what I’m saying.
“It’s weird,” she says, before I can reassure her. Her gaze is fixed on the road as we cruise up the dark highway, with nothing but the headlights to guide us home. “Everything just kind of falls into place here. Is it like that for everyone?”
“No.”
I sound way too intense. Her gaze flicks to me and then back to the road again.
It is true, though. She’s not like everyone.
She’s not like anyone else I’ve ever met.
“I mean, most people who come here think it’s a special place,” I say, trying my best to sound casual, “but not everybody wants to stay f?—”
I clamp my jaw shut before I can say ‘forever.’
“For a long time,” I finish instead.
She nods, and we spend a few minutes driving in silence. There’s a strange weight to the air in the car now, like we’ve pumped it full of all the words we don’t know how to say.
There’s still so much we haven’t talked about.
“Wow, is that the time?” Tess glances at the dashboard. “Your mom’s not going to like me much if we don’t hurry up with this movie.”
She laughs, and I force myself to join in.
“Speaking of my mom…”
I trail off and consider letting it go, but Tess is already giving me a curious look.
“I, uh, have been talking with her,” I say, “about the farm. I have something I want to ask you.”
I can see how tight her jaw is clamped. I’m making this sound ominous as hell.
“You know when we were talking with Brooke and Natalie at the pumpkin patch, about turning La Grange Rouge into a boarding stable?” I ask.
She nods. “Uh-huh?”
“And you know how I said I couldn’t do it alone, and Natalie made that joke about you doing it with me?”
Her hands tighten on the wheel. “Yeah?”
I clench my own hands in my lap.
“What if you, um, did?”
She stays silent.
