Hannie patted his shoulder. “Why don’t you take a day to think about it.”
He’d think about it all right. In fact, he’d probably spend the whole night thinking about it. Pfft. Thinking about wringing that kid’s neck. This whole thing was probably his idea.
Hannie moved toward the house, but looked back at him. “I talked to Luisa today, too. She said you were there.”
He followed her, trying to dispel the image of his fist slamming into Travis’s face. “Yeah. A few weeks ago.”
Hannie stopped at the door. “She said you talked about Jakob.”
His nostrils flared. First they had to talk about George, then Travis, and now they had to talk about Jakob? “She did.”
“She’s hoping—”
“I don’t care what she’s hoping.” He didn’t mean to shout, but the words flew from his mouth like bullets, propelled by the feeling in his gut that he was on a speeding train with no brakes. “It’s none of her business.”
Hannie flinched. “She thinks it’d be good for you to talk to him. She doesn’t want to see you like this.”
His fists clenched. “Like what? Going on with my life without having to worry about that—that moron taking any more of my money?”
“Like this, Gerrit.” She tried to put a hand on his arm, but he jerked away. “Letting anger control you. Ruin your life. I don’t want to see it, either.”
“He already ruined my life. There’s nothing more to talk to him about.” It was more than a shout now. It was the cry of a wild man. “And you don’t know anything about it.”
He’d said the same thing to Luisa, but he knew it was different with Hannie the second the words escaped his mouth. She did know. She’d been there.
Moisture brimmed in her wounded eyes. Aw, shoot. The boiling in his veins cooled. What had gotten into him?
He reached for her, but she shook her head and stepped into the house.
“I don’t know what got into me, thinking we could ever work together.” Emotion strangled her voice. “I thought maybe things could be different, maybe you could change, but . . .”
He was on her heels, inside the door, desperately scouring his mind for something to say. Things were different. He could change. She took a ragged breath and looked down. He followed her gaze to the blue-and-white suitcase leaning against the wall like a prophet of doom.
No.
No!
They stood close enough that he could smell lilies and roses and pine. Say something, you idiot. He opened his mouth, but then she looked up, face twisted, tears imminent.
“You don’t know how many times I’ve stood here at this door, trying to walk out on you. Trying to hate you and your useless cows.”
His eyes widened, and he inched closer, drawn by her despair. She never talked like that. The desire to pull her into his arms was like a tsunami, washing over him without mercy.
She struggled to speak. “Now that you’re here, it’s almost worse, because there’s so much more to hope for. At least when you were gone all the time, I could pretend . . .”
It was one of his greatest fears. That once he was around, once he left the farm and faced the world, she would realize he wasn’t who she’d thought he was. Before he could think, he reached out with hesitant fingers and touched the ends of her hair. He could hardly feel it, so callused were his hands, so unfit to touch something soft and feminine. But it stirred something in him. Something lost. Something unfamiliar and long buried. The gentle weight of her hair in his hand was like a boulder crushing his heart.
A heifer, he knew how to handle. Knew what she needed and where she should go. But a woman?
“I love you.” The words were like a foreign language on his tongue, but that didn’t make them less true. His parents never used the words, never talked about feelings or hopes or dreams, never fixed him with a gentle, affectionate gaze. But he knew what love was.
She’d taught him. She and Luke.
He put his hands on her shoulders and pulled her to his chest.
“I love you.” He said it with confidence this time.
She sobbed into his shirt then, her arms reaching around his waist and holding on for dear life. He braced her up, his own throat constricting. This woman—this woman who had endured years of suffering for his sake, the mother of his children whose favorite flower he couldn’t even remember—she belonged with him. And he would do whatever he had to do to prove it.
Even the one thing he swore he’d never do.
“I’ll talk to him.”
She buried her face in his shirt, her shoulders shaking, and clung to him. She didn’t respond, didn’t look up, but it was enough.
He didn’t know how he could ever deserve her. Didn’t know where they would go from here. Yet he knew one thing for certain.
He wasn’t about to let go.
CHAPTER
THIRTY-FOUR
From her locker, Rae watched Morgan slink through a mob of junior girls and into a classroom. Not much had changed since their accidental encounter at his house. He still avoided her at school as if she had lice. Still gave one-word responses when she tried to talk to him at Community Hope. Still refused to acknowledge her open invitation to join her and Kylee at lunch. But she had noticed one little difference.
He didn’t seem afraid of her anymore.
Annoyed? Sure. Reluctant? Absolutely. But when she did happen to catch his eye, which wasn’t often, he didn’t look like he was terrified of what might happen.
“You’re an idiot, you know that?” Kylee slammed Rae’s locker door shut, and Rae jumped.
“Hey, I wasn’t done.” Rae opened it
