“Spencer, I can’t,” she began, sounding exhausted.

“No. No, Cricket, I can’t. I’m the one who can’t take it anymore. You’re so confusing to me. One minute it feels apparent that you’re at least attracted to me, the next, you’re chillingly distant, afraid to even come near me, especially when Ethan’s around.”

“Don’t bring Ethan into this,” she said, sliding down to sit in the hay next to Eugie. She rubbed the back of her neck in attempt to rid herself of our already wearying day. I knew I wasn’t helping, that she and her family were stressed beyond belief, but I was miserable, more miserable than I had ever been in my entire life, and I was ready to bust the thing between us wide open. I was tired of pining, tired of feeling like she wanted me but not doing anything about it.

“Why not bring Ethan into this?” I asked.

“Because he’s an incredible guy.”

The jealousy burned deep with her answer. “There’s no doubt he’s a great guy,” I admitted bitterly, “but he’s not your great guy, Cricket. He’s not your fate, Cricket.”

She crossed her legs in front of her and tucked her hands between her thighs, resting her head against the wall and peered at the ceiling. “There’s no such thing as fate, Spencer.”

“Like hell there isn’t!” I exclaimed emphatically. “I can recognize fate when I see it...unlike you,” I said, breathing the last part.

She lowered her head and looked straight at me. “What are you saying?” she asked recklessly, unlike her usual very carefully planned statements to me.

I stood at my full height. “Are we doing this?” I challenged, my hands on my hips.

She stayed silent but eventually said, “Yes.”

The butterflies in my stomach attacked in multitude. I called her bluff but realized that I might not want to hear what she needed to say. “Why are you with Ethan?” I asked first.

She turned her head, afraid to look at me.

“Don’t do that,” I told her.

“Do what?” she asked, fiddling with a bit of hay that laid at her hand.

“Avoid looking at me when I bring up Ethan? When all I’m asking is for a simple declaration from you telling me that you love him. That you’re with him because you love him.”

“I do love him,” she said, still playing with the straw.

“Look at me.”

She lifted her gaze and stared straight through me. I wanted to fall on my knees and beg her to deny it, but I didn’t. I stood as still as a statue, waiting.

“I do love Ethan,” she spoke.

I narrowed my eyes at her. “Say it like you’re not talking about any one of your family.”

Her head dropped quickly, then picked it back up. Her mouth opened and shut like a fish out of water.

“What I thought,” I said.

Tears streamed down her face. “You don’t understand,” she explained. “He’s so loyal to me, and right now I cherish that more than anything. I rely on him so much.”

“I can give you loyalty,” I told her softly, honestly.

She shook her head. “His loyalty is fifteen years old, Spencer. And that’s kinda the point of loyalty, isn’t it? When someone shows it to you, you have an obligation to return the favor.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it! You can’t base the rest of your life off of that, Cricket! Loyalty is commendable, yes, necessary, yes, but it’s not what makes a marriage happy.” We both paused for a moment, only our breathing present. I watched her carefully. “And that’s what you’re going to do, right? Marry him?”

“Maybe...eventually. I don’t know!” she exclaimed.

“What?!” I asked, frustrated beyond belief. “Cricket, I just-you’re not making any sense to me. That’s so illogical. In marriage, there has to be love. Trust me,” I said, thinking on my parents. “If you don’t want to be miserable forever, if you want to carve out even a small niche of happiness for yourself in marriage, you have to love the other person. And passionately. If-if you don’t have that, you have nothing,” I finished, sagging back against the wall.

“I think I could learn to love him,” she said, trying to convince herself, I thought, more than me.

“Cricket,” I begged, “if you haven’t done so yet, it’s never going to happen.”

“You don’t know that!”

“I-I don’t know what to say to you right now. You seem so afraid, but you won’t tell me why.”

“We’re not together, Spencer. You deserve no answer from me.”

My jaw clenched. “No, we’re not together. You’ve made that quite clear, and for no reason whatsoever it seems. You’re not the drama type, Cricket, so I don’t get why you’re fighting this so much.”

“I can’t do this,” she said, standing up but instead of leaving, she just watched me, practically pleading for me to take her.

I rushed her and pinned her body against the wall. Only our foreheads touched, our hands hung at our sides. She closed her eyes; both our breathing was strained, ready to burst with desire. It felt too heavy to breathe, too difficult. I closed my eyes as well, wanting to grab her in my arms and kiss her so hard, but I didn’t. I hadn’t been given permission.

“I know you’re falling in love with me,” I told her.

She nodded her forehead into mine, our noses almost touching; our lips mere centimeters apart. It was such a dangerous game, but I didn’t care if I lost. I just wanted to play.

“Please,” I begged her, my tongue heavy and thick. “Tell me it’s okay to kiss you.”

She moaned, pinching her lids tighter together as if in anguish. She wanted me just as badly as I wanted her.

“Just say one tiny word, Cricket. Just one word and I’ll have you. I’d be so good to you, Cricket,” I told her. She groaned deeper and shook her head back and forth against mine. “I’d adore you forever,” I promised. “Just one word, Cricket, and we’d be so good together, perfect really. One word,” I breathed again. I could feel her breaking down. Her face lazily pitched toward mine, imploring me to take her lips with mine, to explore her mouth with mine. I wouldn’t budge, though. I needed permission. She needed to say it. “Cricket,” I exhaled. “Jump with me.”

“Oh God,” she sighed and pressed her body against mine.

I shoved her farther back and pinned her tighter against the wall, my arms on either side of her head. She threaded her fingers through my hair and my eyes rolled into the back of my head. She brought my face into her neck and I inhaled her scent, my knees nearly buckling underneath me. I wanted her legs to climb up mine, but she sat there frozen, breathless, frustrating me to no end.

My nails dug into the wood a bit, furious at me for not touching her. I took the pain. It was a good pain, a pain I needed.

“Tell me,” I ordered her.

She shook her head even as she panted with the same hunger I had.

I raised my head and looked at her face. She opened her eyes and I was almost completely lost at how beautiful they were. “Cricket, say it.”

She bit her bottom lip, sending me into a near panic. “Oh, Cricket Hunt.” I shook my head to clear the delirium. I pressed my lids tightly. “Now, Cricket, say it now.”

Instead, her hands slid out of my hair and onto my shoulders. She immediately went distracted as her fingers felt the muscles in my shoulders and back up my neck, then back down my shoulders, all the way down my arms. She picked up my right hand and held it in hers while exploring it with the other. Her slender fingers repeatedly stroked the palm. I stayed completely still, though she was driving me crazy. I was afraid to scare her off. She was thinking, contemplating me.

“Callused,” she uttered, then met my eyes. She brought the hand to her lips and delicately kissed the palm before running her fingers back over it.

As if I couldn’t help myself, I gripped the back of her neck with that same palm, making her gasp. My other hand instinctively went to the small of her back and pressed her deeper into me.

“Cricket Hunt, I want you so badly.”

Something in what I said woke her up. Her previously dreamy stare cleared and she shook her head slowly. Just as languidly, she stumbled away from me, staggering toward the gate.

I turned toward her. “Cricket,” I called gently.

“I-I have to go to bed,” she stuttered, pretending nothing had happened and leaving the stall.

I stood, immovable, listening to her retreating steps. I felt something nudge my leg and looked down. She’d left Eugie and he’d stood, looking up at me. I slid down the wall and sat in the hay with him. He laid back down, his head on my leg and fell to sleep quickly. My hand went to his neck and rubbed there. I loved him as much as he loved me.

“So why can’t she get that same concept, huh, boy?” I asked a sleeping Eugie.

I fell asleep right there in the stall with Eugie, still waiting for the one word from her I was never gonna get.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Very early the next morning, I woke startled in the horse stall with Eugie still in my lap. I stood and stretched, the muscles in my back screaming at me.

“Come on, boy,” I told him. He followed me out the barn and into the lane. It was bitterly cold and I wanted to sprint down to the trailer but poor Eugie was too stiff from old age to go any faster than a soft trot.

“Okay, old man,” I told him and picked him up. I wrapped him in my coat and we headed for the trailer. Inside, he immediately curled up on the banquette and I let him, even throwing a blanket over him before patting his head.

Too cold to just lay down, I showered and warmed up as best I could. My bed felt uncomfortably small for some reason and I tossed and turned for two hours, obsessing over what had gone down with Cricket, wondering what the hell was going to happen with my dad, if he was even going to do anything. I thought about the possibility of going to jail for a very long time for the “errands” I ran for him. I contemplated all of it and came to one conclusion.

No matter what the hell happened, the idea of Cricket marrying anyone else other than me made me sicker to my stomach than every awful scenario I could think of.

My eyes were wide open when my alarm went off, but I let it beep over and over, a welcome distraction from my thoughts.

“Dang, dude,” I heard a groggy Bridge complain.

My palm, the same palm Cricket had kissed, slammed down on the off button.

“Sorry,” I said, bringing that palm to my chest, desperate to rub out the ache she’d put there.

“Where were you last night?” she asked, rubbing her eyes.

“Oh,” I cleared my throat, “I fell asleep in the horse barn.”

She giggled a little and sat up. “Oh really?” she teased. “Did you, perhaps, fall asleep with anyone else?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact, I did.”

Her eyes widened and she swallowed. “What? I was only teasing! She wouldn’t do that.”