Page 42 of Forever in the Country

My heart still hurts from our fight—the fight we still haven’t talked about—and my head is caught somewhere in the middle. Logically, I know he is still adjusting to being a civilian. It isn’t something you can put a timeframe on, and I am trying desperately to respect that and to help him through it. I know that he has secrets—demons—he keeps locked away, but like I told him last night, I’m not scared of him.

But I just want him to trust me—to give me a chance to help heal some of the pieces he thought were too broken to matter.

I need him to let me in.

Turning off the water, I tie my hair up in a towel and grab a second one to dry my body. I make quick work of getting dressed, opting for the softest leggings in my drawer and a hot-pink tank top. Sweeping my hair into a bun, I do the bare minimum amount of makeup on my face but focus on spreading a little extra powder over the beard rash and pray no one brings it up.

On the vanity, my phone buzzes with an incoming text.

SORREN: Good morning, Sunshine. I hope you got some sleep.

RHEA: A little. Did you?

SORREN: I couldn’t risk it. I would have never left.

RHEA: You say that like it’s a bad thing

SORREN: I already made Tanner drive so I could nap on the way there

RHEA: I’m sorry you didn’t sleep.

SORREN: I’m not

RHEA: And even though I don’t like that you’re gone I know this is important to you.

SORREN: I’ve been through worse nights than having a beautiful woman in my arms

RHEA: Last night doesn’t feel real

SORREN: I’ll try harder next time

RHEA: If you try any harder I won’t be able to walk

SORREN: That’s the idea

RHEA: We still need to talk

SORREN: I know

RHEA: You can’t just fix everything with orgasms

SORREN: I know that too

I setmy phone on the counter and start the coffee pot. Technically I could just wait until I get to the bakery, but I like the routine of brewing coffee at home. Growing up, our house always smelled like coffee because Mama made sure Daddy had a hot cup for his ride to work. He only had to go the next town over, but I loved that she did that for him.

My parents have a classic kind of love. He’s quiet and reserved but when he speaks, people listen. Mama will talk to anyone, anywhere, anytime. I always thought that drove Daddy crazy but he always looked at her with the kind of lifelong affection they write about in books.

Not that I read many.

My lips tip up thinking of Sorren’s dive into the world of romance books when he came back to Clementine Creek. He’s blown through so many I am happy I’d gifted him one of those subscriptions where you could endlessly borrow them.

“And you’ll be a good girl and wait for me?”

I shiver at the memory of his words from the night before. They’d been so intoxicating coming from him, and I have to wonder if it was because of the words themselves or the fact thathe’dsaid them.

Glancing at the clock on the microwave, I grab the milk from the fridge and add a little to the travel mug before double-checking everything is put away and unplugged. I slide my feet into my sneakers before turning off the lights and heading out the door.

I have my coffee cup balanced on my phone and keys and as I turn, a flash of pink catches my eye. A single rose rests on my windshield, a card tucked under my windshield wiper.

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