Declan
“You’re what?” I ask, my throat going dry and thick with emotion.
“I’m going to sell the farm. It’s too much for me, and I want to move closer to my mom and Sierra.”
I can’t explain the feelings that are churning inside me or why it would even bother me if she left. Sydney doesn’t need to stay here, and yet, the idea of her selling this farm has my chest tight.
She belongs here. She was made here—we were made here.
Every touch. Every memory. Every glance and kiss were all forged here, and now ... she’ll leave?
I know I don’t have a right to feel anything. I walked away. I gave her up and have to live with that choice, but it’s fucking killing me to think of anyone else in this house.
“When?” It’s the only question I allow myself to ask.
“As soon as I can. It was something I was going to do years ago, but I didn’t. Now, it’s the right time. I’m going to talk to Jimmy, and then, I don’t know, I guess I’ll get things in motion.”
“What about your family legacy?”
That is what has always kept her rooted here. That she would one day be able to pass this to her children. It isn’t just land, it is her heritage, which Sydney always valued. She wants her children to know that they came from somewhere.
Throughout her life, she struggled with her father’s absence, and this farm gave her a place to hold.
I understood it even when she didn’t, which is why I don’t understand how she can let it go.
“My family isn’t in Sugarloaf anymore. What legacy am I living?”
“You can’t leave, this is your home.”
Her lip quirks up, and she laughs softly. “You did. You walked out of this town, where your family farmed for as long as mine has, and you didn’t blink an eye. Why is it hard for you to understand that I would want to leave this place, where I’m basically alone, and move so I’m closer to my sister, who can be there for me.”
“Why now?”
She looks away and sighs. “There have been some … changes in my life, and it’s the right thing to do. Honestly, Dec, it’s a good thing for me.”
What I wouldn’t give to go back in time and fix everything. I run my hands through my hair, trying to think of what to say. “Are you sure?”
She nods. “It’s time to let it go, don’t you think?”
I want to scream, grab her in my arms, and kiss her until neither of us can let go. But if she wants to leave, I have no right to stop her. I lost that privilege years ago, and I’d be the biggest asshole who lived if I told her she should stay when I have no intention of doing the same.
Sydney and I can’t ever be.
Still, I’m here to make amends. I want us to find a way through the hurt and anger and maybe unearth a little understanding.
“Let me help you,” I say before I know what I’m doing.
“Help me? How?”
The wheels start turning quickly. I don’t know how exactly to help her, so I start to pace, thinking of a plan. I snap my fingers once I have an idea. “I have a friend who is a real estate investor. He is going to help with selling my family farm once we’re through the two-year purgatory. Milo is a genius who knows the market and the best way to posture a property to get the top dollar for it. If your legacy isn’t to live here, you can at least make as much money as possible.”
“My goal is to sell it quickly,” Sydney says and then bites her lower lip.
I push down the urge to run my finger across her mouth and pull that lip out of its restraints before I kiss her. I shove my hands into my pockets to avoid doing just that. “I can help, Syd.”
She eyes me curiously and then releases a sigh through her nose. “This goes against my plan to avoid you at all costs.”
Avoiding her when she’s this close is like telling my lungs not to breathe. I can try for a bit, but eventually, the need is too strong to resist.
“And I thought you wanted to be civil.” I try for a casual tone, hoping I pull it off.
“Yes, well, we don’t seem to manage civility very well.”
“No, I guess we don’t, but this could be the jumping point of our new friendship.”
Sydney kicks a rock, sending it flying down the dirt drive. “It’s sad, isn’t it?”
“What is?”
“That we’ve been reduced to this. Two people who used to say anything to one another are now struggling to speak. There wasn’t a topic that was off-limits, and I used to know you as well as I knew myself,” Sydney says, still not looking at me.
Only, I don’t need to see her face to know what’ll be there. Her blue eyes will dull a bit, like they do when she’s sad, and she will be biting the inside of her cheek. Still, I wait because I want her to see me.
After a few seconds of her avoiding me, I step closer and use my finger to tilt her chin up, forcing her to stop looking at the ground.
Our gazes lock, and I swear it’s as if I’m thrown back in time. She still has this beautiful innocence that cuts through me, reminding me of the way I fell in love with her without a chance of stopping it.
I may not want to get married or have kids, but my heart and soul have always belonged to one person, and it never will be anyone else’s.
“I think we might still know each other that way.”
She shakes her head. “I don’t know you anymore. I don’t know this man who doesn’t want to love or can’t love. That wasn’t who you were.”
“It’s who I had to become.”
The truth of it all is this
