My heart stops dead in my chest, because I know those words. I remember repeating them in my head as Finley fell asleep beside me the night of Holden and Wren’s wedding. I beat myself up for saying it, stared at the ceiling most of the night, fretting over whether she’d remember it in the morning, if she’d start to piece things together.
I’m surprised by how steady my voice sounds with the way my head is spinning. “What do you mean?”
She swallows. “The night of the wedding, when you were holding my hair. You said there was only one woman you’d ever wanted in Fontana Ridge. Was it her?”
I want to climb out of this socket seat and scale down the ride until I’m on solid ground again, far away from this conversation. I scramble for something to say and plaster an amused smile on my face that I hope she buys. “Careful, Fin. You sound jealous.”
Heat licks up into her cheeks, and I marvel at it. Twin splotches of perfect pink. She looks embarrassed, eyes darting from mine, and that stupid hope takes up residence in my heart again. I try to squash it down, but just like every time, it grows without my permission.
“Are you?” I ask, leaning closer. “Jealous, that is.”
I don’t expect her to look me in the eye, to let out a shaky breath and say, “I don’t know. Maybe? What does it mean if I am?”
If I thought my heart wasn’t working properly before, I was wrong, because now it stops functioning completely. My lungs too, as the breath stalls in them.
Just once, I allow my gaze to slip from her whiskey-colored eyes, down the slope of her nose, and settle on her mouth. It’s perfect—full, a natural dark red.
When I meet her eyes once more, I know she noticed, because there’s more color in her cheeks. That she hasn’t moved away and has maybe even leaned closer.
“I don’t know, Fin. You tell me.”
She swallows once more, and I follow the movement with my eyes. I want to drink in every single moment of this, scared that it’s all another one of my dreams, that I’m going to wake up disappointed.
Finally, she says, “I don’t know either. But I know I liked it when you held my hand earlier, the way you haven’t stopped touching me all day, even now.” For the first time, I realize my thumb is swiping across her back. “And I know I didn’t like it when Marie hugged you, when you forgot I was there when she started talking.”
This makes my mouth twitch up into a smile, and her eyes track the movement.
“It’s not funny,” she says, looking even more embarrassed.
“Itisfunny, Finley, because I could never forget you’re around.” If she only knew how hard I try. “I always know exactly where you are.”
Her expression softens into something more vulnerable. “Why?”
I want to tell her everything, to reassure her, but I also know I need to protect myself, not let myself get confused by her jealousy, by the way she likes my touch. It’s been months since she went on a single date. Of course she likes it. It doesn’t have anything to do with me.
“I don’t know.” It’s the most truthful thing I can say. I don’t know why I’ve been drawn to her so strongly. I don’t know why,after fifteen years, I haven’t been able to shake this feeling, why no one else ever measures up.
The shutters settle back over her eyes, and she finally looks away, face unreadable. She’s looking out at the fairgrounds, but I’m still unabashedly watching her. It’s why I can tell that what I said wasn’t the right thing, although I don’t know what she was looking for. All I know is I can’t tell her the whole truth, at least not yet. Maybe in another few weeks, when, if she turns me down, I can be on a plane to Maine so I don’t have to face her rejection.
The Ferris wheel starts turning again, and she doesn’t look back at me. I stop the unintentional path my thumb was making on her back, but I don’t move my hand away. My stomach feels heavy as I wait to see if she will turn the conversation back to what we were originally talking about—the night of the wedding—but she stays quiet. And when I extend my hand to help her off the ride a few minutes later, she pretends she doesn’t see it.
Our group is lategetting to the rodeo because we underestimated the dinner lines, so we end up not being able to get seats together. Wren, Holden, June, and Mom find four seats together, and I have to swallow down my frustration. I don’t want to be alone with Grey, not after the moment on the Ferris wheel. I’m tired of being so in my head, of questioning everything, including what I’m feeling and what I want. So I just said it out loud, and it felt like my heart stopped beating as I waited for his reply.
It hurt more than it should have when he said he didn’t know why he always knows exactly where I am. It shouldn’t have hurt at all. But for a moment, I thought maybe he was going to tell me the reasons, that it was because I was somehow special to him, different from all the other women he’s been attracted to, dated.
We finally find two open seats near the top of the grandstand, illuminated by the bright lights that flicked on the moment the sun started to set, and it’s not a moment too soon, because my feet are killing me. Earlier today, I felt blisters forming, and I’mpretty sure they’ve already popped. I let out a soft, relieved noise when we sit, and Grey gives me a curious look.
“It’s nothing,” I say, but his eyes trace down my legs to my boots, and I watch as a smirk turns his lips up.
“Are the boots hurting your feet, Fin?”
This, at least, feels normal, and I want to kiss him for easing some of the tension. I also think I might just want to kiss him.
“No,” I say, kicking them out in front of me, letting my heels rest on the metal floor of the bleachers.
“Are you sure?”
I nod. “Absolutely. Couldn’t be better.”
