Page 63 of Far From Sherwood Forest
“Henry?”
Like so many times before, he stops me. This time, I don’t fight it. I don’t consider ignoring him and walking away without hearing what he has to say. The way his voice trembles has me feeling an obligation to hear it.
I peer back at him over my shoulder.
“We could let it go.” His voice is small, hopeful.Desperate. “We could let it all go.”
It’s a plea. A plea formeto let it all go because we both know he already has. His eyes are glassy with more than just a fever, and as much as I once thought he looked beautiful when he cried, his tears are the last thing I want to see right now.
But I can’t give him hope where there is none.
“No, Robin.Ican’t.”
He drops his head, and before I can see one of those unshed tears fall, I exit the bunkhouse, finally realizing something I should have a long time ago.
It’s my own fault I’m alone and always will be.
The last of the frost has finally lifted, leaving the ground soft and half-sunken underfoot. My boots squelch through the muddy pasture as the world slowly wakes. The air still has a bite to it, but the sun is out, pale and low, dragging long shadows across the field. Cows are already moving toward the gate, slow and lazy, ears flicking at the early flies starting to return.
The hinges of the gate creak loudly in the cold morning stillness as I push it open. I adjust the feed sack on my shoulder, the coarse burlap damp against my jacket.
Walking over to the trough, I dump the feed in, grain spilling in a soft, muffled cascade. The herd gathers around, pressing in close, and I move out of their way as a few of the calves butt shoulders, half playful, half hungry.
After I fill the water trough next, I exit back through the gate and head for the barn. John is usually the one who mows around here, but for the past few months, I’ve kind of stolen the job from him. There’s something calming in the simplicity.
The barn doors groan when I pull them open, and I setthe empty feed sack with the others in the corner. Dust motes swirl in a shaft of morning sunlight slipping through a crack in the roof. The green tractor mower sits tucked in its usual spot, and I climb up into the seat. It takes a couple tries before the engine finally catches. I sit there for a moment to let it warm up, watching the heat curl in waves from the exhaust.
Easing the tractor out of the barn, I see that the sun has climbed enough to burn off the last of the morning haze. The hum of the mower settles into a rhythm beneath me, steady and grounding, the engine drowning out everything else.
It’s been a few weeks since the last time I saw Henry, and I haven’t been able to get him out of my head. I’ve sent John to do the past couple wildlife tours at the park with Spencer because I don’t know if I can handle seeing him right now.
Maybe I’d act cool and be able to pretend he didn’t shoot an arrow straight into my heart.
More likely, I’d say or do something desperate and make a fool of myself.
I know he still hates me, but…I wish he didn’t.
At least, hesayshe hates me. Except, the night after we fucked, he brought me inside his cabin, showered with me, and let me share his bed. And then when he showed up while I was sick, he seemed concerned instead of overjoyed by my misery. I had that thought, that sense that he could take care of me, and that’s kind of what he did.
I want more, but I can’t have it.
So it’s best to keep some distance.
I’m about halfway finished mowing the main field when I start nearing the bunkhouse and see John on the porch with a book in his hands. Cutting the engine, I hop off and approach the steps, taking the first one up to the porch when John looks up.
“Enjoying a lazy morning?” I ask teasingly.
He sets his book on his lap and shrugs with a grin. “There’snot much left to do around here since you keep taking all my work.”
Laughing quietly, I open the door and go inside, heading over to the fridge to grab a bottle of water before going back out to the porch. I sit down on the bench beside John and take a drink.
“Lucas called just a bit ago to let us know he’s going to be away for the next couple weekends,” he says. “He just wants us to keep an eye on the house.”
“Areyougoing to be here the next couple weekends?” I ask, my tone teasing again as I arch a brow at him.
John has been spending a lot of his weekends with Bethany. I honestly love seeing him happy, but I admit it’s been a bit lonely around here when he’s gone. Maybe it’s karma.
“Yeah. Bethany has some girl’s night planned this weekend, and then she’s going out of town the next.” He turns a bit toward me, his expression suddenly serious. “I actually wanted to talk to you about that.”
