“I’ll keep it together.”
She hands me a cookie. “You don’t have to keep it together. That’s never fun. Please feel free to lose it. Just keep the abuse to a minimum.”
I chuckle. “You’re making me laugh. I don’t want to laugh.”
“That’s evident from the permanent scowl you’ve been wearing. Word on the street is the pigs have been sending out S.O.S messages seeking help from the demon lady stomping around the farm.”
“Anyone answer their call?”
“A rescue team is flying in tomorrow,” she jokes.
“I’ll prepare myself.” I take a bite of the cookie, and I catch Mia looking at the TV just as the show I was watching comes back from commercials.
Raising a brow, she turns to me. “When have you ever watched ESPN?”
“Whenever Crew played,” I admit. “I loved seeing him on the field, commanding the plays, directing his team. It always came so naturally to him.”
“But he’s not playing right now.”
“The combine is tomorrow,” I say with a sigh. “Wanted to see what they were saying about him.”
“What were they saying?” Mia asks, grabbing another cookie.
“That if he has a good showing like they think he will, he’ll probably be drafted within the first round despite his rocky season.”
“That’s really good news, right?”
I lean my chin against my knees, which are pulled up to my chest. “Yeah, it’s good.”
“So, why do you look so sad? You can’t be sad when you’re the one pushing him away. When you’re the one punishing him for not giving up everything and coming to live on a farm with you. You could be with him, Hazel, but you’re choosing not to be.”
“This farm—”
“The farm isn’t your life, or at least, it shouldn’t be. You’re holding on to memories rather than making new ones.”
“I feel as though I’m giving up on him,” I say, tears welling up in my eyes.
“Giving up on who?”
“Pops,” I say, a tear streaming down my cheek. “He brought me into his life, offered me a place to make home, a job, a family, and then I’m supposed to just throw that all away? They’re going to plow through this land, make it commercial. It’ll be unrecognizable. How am I the only one who cares about that? Pops built this farm from the ground up. We’re just supposed to neglect that and move on because he’s no longer here? Where’s the loyalty?”
“Why did Pops set up the investors, then? He knew what they planned on doing. If it mattered to him, why did he line that all up?”
“I don’t know. Maybe because he wanted to take care of the family in case we couldn’t take care of the farm.” I grow irritated. “What I don’t understand is why I can’t just take care of the farm myself? Why does someone have to be here with me? Did he not trust me?”
Mia sighs and reaches into her back pocket, pulling out a letter. My eyes land on the handwriting and my heart seizes.
“Why do you have that?” I ask.
“Marley gave it to me before she left. She said to give this to you when I thought it was necessary. I think it’s necessary.”
She hands it to me and I quickly snatch it out of her hand but don’t open it.
Sensing I need some privacy, Mia says, “I’ll leave you with your cookies and letter, but I’m coming back tomorrow to check on you. Okay?”
I nod, still staring at the letter while she makes her way out of the house. When the front door clicks shut, I turn the envelope over and open it up.
I take a deep breath and read.
Dear Hazel Girl,
If you’re reading this letter, it’s probably because you’re too caught up in your head. Am I right? I know I’m right. You’re brilliant and hardworking, but your one downfall has been putting your blinders on. You tend to see black and white when you’re like this. There’s no gray for you.
I’m here to tell you, Hazel Girl, there’s plenty of gray in this world. The choices you make in life can’t always be clear-cut decisions. You’re going to have to open your eyes to see all the colors in between when making a choice.
One of the things I always loved about working with you was your loyalty and dedication to the farm and to my family. But I noticed, when you got your mind set on something, you convinced yourself that was the only way to do it, and never sought out other options. You got fixated and, once again, those blinders went on and you didn’t see the world around you.
You tend to crawl inside your mind and don’t put yourself out there. I fear that you’ll become so fixated on one thing, that you’ll forget to look up occasionally. You won’t remember to breathe in the fresh air. You won’t remember to make connections. You won’t find what’s really important in life—love.
Work is just that—work.
Possessions are just that—possessions.
Both will bring you pain and joy, but they won’t satisfy your heart.
Love is the only way to do that.
Please don’t be so consumed with the black and white that you forget to learn to love in the gray.
I love you, Hazel girl.
Pops
I set the letter down and squeeze my eyes shut as I sink deeper into the couch.
* * *
Hazel: Good luck today. I know I probably haven’t said it before, but I’m proud of you and everything you’ve accomplished.
I stare down at the text I sent Crew, my heart aching from his lack of response. But, then again, I don’t blame him. I haven’t been very warm lately.
“Hazel, are you in here?”
I pop out of the bathroom and find Mia walking into the farmhouse with a box of pastries.
“You can’t keep bringing me food,” I say, while pulling my hair up into a messy bun.
“If I didn’t bring you food, you wouldn’t eat.” She pauses and studies my shirt. “Are you wearing Crew’s shirt?”
I glance down at the Braxton College shirt he let me take while we were in Germany. I paired it with leggings today because it was the only thing that gave me comfort this morning.
“I am.” Before she can question me, I say, “Can we talk?”
“Oh, boy. Am I in trouble?” She cautiously sets the pastry box on the dining room table.
I chuckle. “No, you’re not in trouble.” I walk over to the coffee pot in the kitchen and ask, “Do you want some coffee?”
“Sure,” she says with trepidation. “Are you . . . okay? You seem surprisingly calm.”
“Yeah, I’m fine.” I bring over two cups of coffee and flip open the pastry lid, revealing cherry Danishes. I smile and say, “These look amazing. When we were in Germany, Crew and I became addicted to these pudding Danishes that were to die for. I was looking up recipes on how to make them just last night.”
I hand her a Danish on a napkin and we both take a seat.
“Sooo, are we talking about Crew now?” She stares me down. “Frankly, I don’t know how to approach your mood. I hate to be crude, but my ass is clenched, waiting for you to flip a switch.”
I chuckle. “I’m not going to flip a switch.”
“Um, okay. But can you understand why I’m skeptical? You’ve sulked around the farm for the last month, and then today, you’re back to normal? What the hell was in that letter?” She leans forward and waves her hand in front of my face. “Are you drugged? You can tell me. Blink twice if it’s a yes.”
“I’m not drugged.” I break off a piece of my Danish and say, “I just did some thinking last night and I wanted to talk to you about it.”
“Okay. As long as you won’t judge me for eating two Danishes, I’m here to listen.”
“I would never judge you, because you know I’ll eat two as well.”
“Then I’m all ears. What’s up?”
“I’m going to move.”
“Uh, what?” Mia blinks.
“I read the letter you gave me yesterday. It took me a long time to decipher what P
ops was saying, but I think I finally understood around two in the morning. I think I’ve been putting all my energy into a possession, like the farm, and it’s given me tunnel vision. I’ve forgotten to look around and recognize that all my memories of this place are safely in my heart, and I don’t need the physical place to help me remember. I don’t need the farm to help remind me of home, because my home is in someone’s arms.”
“Wait.” She sets her Danish down. “Are you saying you’re going to move to wherever Crew goes?”
I slowly nod. “I think so.”
“Oh my God, Hazel, that’s . . . I mean, wow. Are you sure you’re going to be okay with that?”
“I think it’s going to take some time getting used to not having the farm, but this past month I’ve been miserable, and I don’t think it’s because of the investors looming over my head. It’s the fact that I don’t have Crew here with me. I knew it right away when I saw him on the airplane. My soul begs for him, my heart craves him. I can’t stop that feeling, no matter how hard I try. The farm provides complacency and comfort, but I think it’s time I venture out. Maybe find my way in this world.”
“Well, I wasn’t expecting you to say that when I came here.” She picks up her coffee mug and brings it to her lips. “So, does this mean I’m losing my best friend?”
I sadly smile at her. “I’ll come back and visit.”
“Are you going to want to come back and visit, knowing what’s happening to the farm?”
“I’ll just avoid coming this way.” I chuckle but it sounds hollow. I’m not sure I’d ever be able to come back here, knowing that everything will be knocked down. All the hard work, all the long days out in the sun, all of the memories . . .
It would hurt too much.
“You’re really going to give all of this up?” Mia asks. There’s no judgment in her voice, just concern.
“He loves me, Mia.”
“And do you love him?”
I look out the dining room window toward the barn. “Yes, I love him. More than this farm, and he’s something that I can’t lose. I need to learn to love in the gray, like Pops said. Crew is in the gray. I can bear to lose this farm, but I can’t bear to lose Crew. Not having him in my life has hurt more than anything.”
“Well.” She smiles brightly. “I think we need to celebrate.” She lifts her Danish. “To new beginnings.”
“To new beginnings,” I say, tapping my pastry with hers.
We each take a bite and then she nods at my shirt. “So, go Braxton, huh?”
“Oh. I almost forgot.” I get up from the dining room table and pick up the remote to the TV, flipping it on and to the correct channel. I motion for Mia to join me. “Come watch the combine with me.”
“They televise that?” she asks.
“They televise everything when it comes to college football and the draft. Grown men actually throw viewing parties for such events.”
“That’s insane to me, but then again, I’ve been known to watch florists make all sorts of centerpieces for hours on YouTube. To each their own, right?”
“Right.” I turn up the volume and take a seat. Mia brings over my coffee and Danish for me, and together we watch. “One year, a man ran so fast, his penis fell out of his spandex shorts,” I say.
Mia pauses, Danish halfway to her mouth. “Uh, excuse me?”
“Yeah, his spandex shorts couldn’t contain the jostle of his junk, and it fell out the bottom. I watched the video a few times. Impressive is all I have to say.”
She hunkers down on the couch. “Well, why didn’t you tell me this was the X-rated version of Magic Mike? Let’s go, combine! Show us the penis. Man, I wish I had some ones to throw at the TV.”
“It happened one time.” I chuckle, feeling lighter already.
“One time means it can happen.” She motions to her eyes. “I’ll be glued to this TV until I see some jiggling man bits.”
“You have issues.”
The announcers come back on the TV, and one with a beard holds his ear and says, “We’re getting news from the field that one of the top picks of the season hasn’t shown up.” A graphic of Crew and his stats comes up on the screen, and everything in my body goes numb. “Crew Smith, All-American from Braxton College, is not in attendance.”
“What?” I say, setting my coffee mug down. “Where . . . where is he?”
“Uh, was he supposed to report today?” Mia asks, just as confused as me.
“Yes, he was. Where’s my phone?” I scramble for it and realize it’s on the dining room table. I turn toward it just in time to see Crew walk through the door. Half-eaten Danish in hand, I stutter to a stop and grip my chest with my free hand. “Crew,” I say breathlessly. “Wh-what are you doing here?”
“Hey, Hazel,” he says gently.
“Crew is here?” Mia turns on the couch and gasps. “Holy shit, he’s hotter in person.”
Crew smirks, and his gaze immediately falls to the shirt I’m wearing. His eyes soften as he shuts the door behind him. Unable to move, I stand there, shocked, confused, excited.
Why is he here right now?
Why does he have that smirk on his lips?
Why is he walking toward me when I’ve done nothing but push him away?
Not breaking stride, he closes the space between us, his hand reaching for me. I hold my breath, thinking he’s about to pull me into a hug. Instead, he takes my Danish and shoves the rest of it in his mouth.
Uhh . . .
“I was eating that,” I exclaim lamely.
He chews and swallows. “Too slow, Twigs.”
“Crew, I . . . I don’t understand wh—”
“Oh God, his voice is sigh-worthy,” Mia gushes next to me.
I love Mia, but I don’t need an audience, not when I can barely formulate sentences.
“Mia, could we have some privacy?”
She shakes her head. “No, I’m good here. Thanks, though.”
“I like her,” Crew says with a laugh.
Irritated with my friend, I push Crew toward the kitchen to gain a modicum of privacy from prying ears.
Once out of sight from Mia, I cross my arms over my chest and quietly ask, “What are you doing here?”
He leans against the butcher block countertop, his broad shoulders pulling at the fabric of his long-sleeved T-shirt. His body language reads casual, a stark contrast to the nervous, fidgety appearance I’m giving.
“Why do you think I’m here?” he asks simply. “For you.”
“But . . . but you have the combine today.” I toe the ground, unable to look him in the eyes for more than a few seconds.
“And were you going to watch me compete in the combine?”
“Yes.” I nibble on the inside of my cheek. “I sent you a text wishing you luck.”
“Is that right?” he asks, so casual, as if we haven’t been through a tumultuous ride when it comes to us. As if the last month hasn’t consisted of me pushing him away every chance I’ve had.
“Yes.” Nerves prick at the back of my neck and I twist my hands together, unsure what to do in this moment, other than blurt out what’s been on my mind. I look up at him, his solid brown eyes connect with my mine, and I feel my stomach bottom out as I open my mouth and say, “I . . . I want to be with you.”
His smirk turns into a full-on grin as he shifts and sticks his hands in his jean pockets. “Oh yeah?”
I nod. “I do. I would like to be with you. In a relationship capacity.”
“And how did you come to that conclusion? Last I remember, you had nothing else to say to me.”
Guilt washes over me.
That’s exactly why I’m confused as to why he’s here. “It was wrong to take my hopelessness out on you.” I twist my hands together. When he doesn’t say anything, I keep going. “It’s taken some personal reflection to realize that I don’t need a physical place to call home, but rather, I can find home in other places.”
“Like where?”
&n
bsp; “Like . . . your arms,” I say, my stomach dropping as I confess my feelings.
He slowly nods. “So, if I were to say, ‘I love you, Hazel,’ what would you say in response?”
My eyes connect with his, and for the first time since I made this decision, I can one hundred percent guarantee it was the right decision.
I take a step forward, closing the distance until there’s only a foot of space separating us, rather than the thousands of miles that I thought kept us apart only a few minutes ago.
“If you were to say you love me, right now”—I swallow hard, keeping my gaze on him—“I would say, ‘I love you, Crew. Very much. Always have. Always will.’” I take another step, and I cautiously take his hand in mine and link our fingers together. “And then I would tell you that if you’d still have me, I’d love spending my life following you around, wherever this crazy world might take you.”
His eyebrows slowly shoot up. “You’d give up the farm?”
I nod. “Easily. If it meant I got to be with you, then I’d step aside.” I take his other hand and love the feel of his strong thumbs running over the backs of my knuckles in a gesture of comfort. “This last month has been miserable without you, Crew. For a second, I associated my feelings of despair with losing the farm, but I realized that’s nothing compared to the pain I was feeling of not having you in my life again. A wise man once wrote me a letter and said not everything is black and white, and sometimes I need to love in the gray.” I squeeze his hand. “This won’t be easy, but I know life would be so much harder without you. I love you, Crew, with everything in me. You were meant to be my person, and I really hope you still want to be with me.”
I feel the hope pleading in my eyes as I stare up at him.
And when he smiles, the unease in my chest starts to fade away.
When his hand releases mine and cups my cheek instead, my heart beats faster.
When he pulls me in closer and dips his mouth to mine, my soul feels at peace.
Slowly, his lips caress mine, a gentle kiss, a reminder of the connection we share. His hand slides behind my neck, cupping me gently, tenderly, as if he holds me too hard, I might vanish. Little does he know, he’s branding me, making me his. No one will ever replace this man in my life, no one has ever come close, and I’m going to spend my life making sure I show him just how much he means to me. How much I love him. How much I need him, and only him, to be happy. Nothing else.
The Romantic Pact Page 30
