Stirred: A Love Story (27 page)

Garrett drove through the night, his mind racing even more under the silent hum of his truck. This happened because he left. He knew it was stupid; he wasn’t usually superstitious but that was the only explanation. His father fell, alone in the barn, because Garrett wasn’t there. Christ, the thought of him lying there on the barn floor made his stomach turn. The man had given his life to them, put their happiness above his own. He didn’t deserve to be alone.

Whatever the hell he thought he was doing with Sage was secondary. It had to be because people were counting on him. Garrett had been there when Kenna needed a boost to the water fountain at recess or when Brody Pierce needed the shit kicked out of him for bullying Logan into doing his homework in junior high. Garrett was always over their shoulder, right around the corner, and he liked it that way. He was at his father’s side when their mother abandoned them, and he’d never left. Sure, he’d been places, seen things, but emotionally, he was always at the farm with his family. As he drove up to the dimly lit porch of the main house, his father’s house, he was exhausted and right where he belonged. Everything else, everyone else, would have to stay on the sidelines.

Garrett walked through the front door to find Jack asleep at the foot of the stairs. He lifted his head, tail wagging and once he realized it was Garrett, he sleepily walked over for a greeting.

“Hey, Jack, where’s the patient?”

“We’re in here,” said a female voice over the sound of the television.

Walking through the archway of the living room, Garrett saw Libby putting on her coat while his father sat on the couch.

“I’m fine,” his father said. “There was no need for you to drive all the way home.”

“Sure there was.” Garrett threw his coat over the chair on his way to finally setting eyes on his father. “I was worried about Jack. He can’t have a cripple looking after him.”

His father’s laughter was exactly what he needed.

“Well, fortunately, it’s only the forearm and you still have your elbow.”

“True. Doctor says eight weeks in the cast and then some kind of brace until it heals all the way.”

Garrett nodded and looked to Libby, who was smiling at both of them.

“Thank you,” he said, a little surprised to see Libby out of the diner. “Did you feed him?”

“You know I did. There’s some chicken in the fridge from last night and some cinnamon rolls I brought over this morning if you’re hungry. I have to get back to the diner,” she said. She hung back momentarily in some sort of weird limbo before squeezing his dad’s hand, patting Garrett on the shoulder, and leaving.

“That was nice of her to stop by.” Garrett sat on the other side of the sectional couch.

His father nodded, looking at the television but not watching it.

“Dad?”

Their eyes met.

“You all right?”

He nodded. “You didn’t need to leave your girl.”

“She’s not my. . . don’t worry about that. I’m sorry I wasn’t here to help with the light. Why didn’t you ask George?”

“Because I was changing a damn bulb. If I can’t change a lightbulb on my own, then it’s time to hang it up. It was a fluke. I stepped on the ladder the wrong way and went down. No one’s fault.”

Garrett let out a breath.

“No one’s fault, do you hear me? If you’d been here, I’d have still been on that ladder.”

Garrett started to disagree, but his father held him off.

“You’re not the only man in this house, Garre. I was changing lightbulbs long before you could reach them. I’ll continue to change the damn things until the day you put me in the ground. I’m not some invalid.”

“I never said you were.”

“Then why the hell are you back here when you should be up there winning that woman?”

Garrett felt the tension creep into his back and shoulders. He ran his hand over his face. He was tired and suddenly the urge to rush home felt foolish.

Something shifted, almost as if things would be fine without him.

He didn’t like it. “I have work to do.”

“Aren’t you going to sleep?”

“No. I’m hopped up on coffee and George has finished redirecting those drip lines. I want to make sure it’s the coverage we were expecting. You all right here?”

“Yeah, I’m going to watch some Oprah. I think it’s a master class today on body acceptance.”

Garrett laughed. “Is that something you’re working on?”

His father shrugged. “Not exactly, but she always has little lessons in there. Most of it applies to me.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah,” he said a bit defensively, “she’s—”

“A bright woman, yeah, yeah, I know.”

“You sure you don’t want one of Libby’s cinnamon rolls?”

Garrett put his coat back on and went to the kitchen, returning with one roll in his hand and another in his mouth. His father laughed.

“Careful out there. Will you ask George to take a picture of Bird and send it to Paige? I promised.”

Garrett grunted, filling his mouth with Libby’s incredible baking, and let the screen door slam behind him.

After a few hours of reworking a couple of the drip lines and doing an inventory of the seeds that still hadn’t arrived, Garrett took a picture of Bird, one of their goat’s newest babies, and sent it to Paige. She promptly replied that she was “looking good, but maybe needed more sunshine.” Garrett laughed and slipped his phone back in his jacket. He slumped down in the office chair, propped his feet up on the desk, and fell asleep.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

S
age flew home the next morning. It was raining as the taxi pulled up in front of her house. She hadn’t heard from Garrett and didn’t want to call Kenna to pick her up. She’d texted Garrett a couple of times, without response, so she tried to leave it alone. They were with their father and when the Rye family circled up, they didn’t appear to need anyone else’s help.

Sage worked at bringing her focus back to her own life. She’d started a new book, fiction this time. She was a few chapters in; it took place in England and it was lilting and literary. That’s what she wanted. She was tired of working on herself, analyzing. She needed escape—her mind and her heart wanted to pretend. After losing her place more than a few times, Sage closed her Kindle. Her energy felt off and she was restless. It was as if she could feel him, feel for him. His fear and anger mixed with whatever else he kept bottled up in his big brother routine. Another side effect of love, she thought, getting out of bed and glancing out the window on her way to the kitchen for ice cream. It was still pouring. She stood in her dark kitchen with nothing but the dim light over her stove and the occasional flash of lightning. Sage opened the freezer and closed it. She couldn’t eat; she couldn’t sleep. This was ridiculous.

Pulling a sweatshirt over her tank top, Sage zipped her jeans. She still had Kenna’s boots and there had to be a raincoat somewhere in the back of her closet. Within minutes, she was ready for the weather and grabbing her keys.
He doesn’t need you
, something reminded her as she stood with her hand on the doorknob. As if in defiance, she lifted her hood and walked out into the rain. She was done waiting, done dancing around. She loved him and they needed each other. If she had to fight for that, then challenge accepted. She knew exactly where to find him.

Sage drove through for burgers on her way to the farm and ate some of the fries as she drove. Nothing but the haunting voice of James Morrison and the slap of her wipers filled the car. She cursed the long drive to get to him. The lights were on as she pulled into the gravel parking lot. She tucked the bag of food into her coat and ran to the awning that hung over the front door of the Ryeland Farms offices. The door was unlocked. Shaking off the rain, she walked toward the sole light cutting through the darkness of desks and cubicles. She found him going through paperwork and tried to steady her breath, to rein in the need to hold him.

“I brought you some dinner.”

“Thanks, but I already ate.” He didn’t look up and with the exception of a slight dent in his clenched jaw, there was no sign of surprise that she was dripping wet in his doorway in the middle of the night.

“How’s your father?” She unzipped her coat, setting the bag on the edge of his desk.

“Fine.” He was a robot, moving from one piece of paper to another. She would have bet he wasn’t reading any of it—he simply needed something to do, someplace to hide his pain. After a couple of minutes of silence, except for the rain thumping on the roof, Garrett looked up at her, eyes vacant. “Thanks for coming by, Sage, but he’s fine.”

“Don’t do that. Don’t you dare make me feel stupid.”

Garrett almost laughed. “How the hell would I begin to make you feel stupid? You’ve got a degree in mechanical engineering. Turns out you know everything. If you’re feeling stupid, maybe that’s your issue.”

She swallowed. She wanted to run away, but instead she stood her ground, her lips tight. Garrett did the same.

“So, are we done here?” he finally asked with a raised brow and a cruelty she’d never noticed before. She recognized the fear.

“Do you want to talk about this?” She already felt foolish, but if there was a chance of breaking through, she had to try.

Garrett stopped shuffling through papers, stood, and walked past her. Pushing through the front door, he walked out into the rain without a word or a jacket. Sage hesitated for a minute and watched him move to the barn. He was drenched by the time she could see him under the outside light. She went after him.

“Garrett, please let me—”

He held up his hand and walked farther into the darkened barn. She wondered if the smells, the warmth of the wood helped him, gave him any peace. She caught up to him and put her hand on his shoulder. He turned on her so fast that for a heartbeat, she was scared. He held her by the shoulders, his chest heaving in and out, and wiped away tears barely visible below the glistening green of his pained eyes.

“What is it with you? I don’t need help. I need to work, keep things running.”

“You’re scared and you should be, your father—”

“I am not scared. Stop. That shit doesn’t work on me. I don’t need some book to tell me how to live my life, Sage. I have to get back to work. I’m fine. Please leave.” He was still holding her, so she gave it one more shot.

“I can’t. I love you, and you’re hurting.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, please stop. You like being alone and I have to be alone. The fantasy is over, Sage. My father needs me. I need to be here.”

She let him squeeze her arms. He wasn’t letting go, so she took a page from his playbook and waited him out.

“I mean, enough. This was incredible, but seriously, look at our lives. I can’t leave and you’re. . . you deserve something real. I can’t give you that. This was fun, but it turns out I can’t give you the ‘more’ you’re looking for.” He was shaking, and Sage called on strength she didn’t know she had until that very moment.

“Yes you can, you already have. You’re scared. You’ve had a lot of changes and things going on. Your dad falling was probably the last straw, but that doesn’t mean there’s not room for us. I want all of you and that means this too, your pain. I want to help you. Let me be there for you.”

“You want to help me? You want to be there for me. Fine.” He grabbed the back of her neck, hard, and before his lips smashed into hers, he looked at her, a storm of anger and pain swirling through his eyes. When he pulled her in again, she remembered the first time her father had taken her white-water rafting. “It might look scary like it can overpower you, but it’s only doing its thing. If you want to ride, you have to hold on and be willing to get wet.” Sage held on, let him share some of his need, his pain. His hand moved to her face, held her chin in a kiss that was frantic, meant to intimidate, but she was made of tougher stuff. She hoisted herself up and Garrett caught her as her legs wrapped around his waist. He backed into the barn, still kissing her, and once they were covered, Sage lifted her wet shirt over her head and the night air made her skin dance. Every breath felt like a wave, a splash of water to her face. Garrett’s mouth took her neck, between her breasts, as he leaned her against the wall.

“Sage.” His fist was tight in her hair.

On a rush of breath, she started unbuttoning his shirt, but felt the next wave approaching, so she ripped the rest of the shirt open and ran her hands over his damp chest. If she could have climbed inside of him, held his heart, steadied him at that moment, she would have. There was nothing she could say that would help him deal with his father’s mortality or the responsibilities he’d carried since he was a little boy. There were no words at that moment, so she simply set about showing him that she loved him, that he was full of the life and vitality she’d seen the moment she met him.

Sage dropped one hand to the waist of his jeans while the other was still wrapped around his neck. Garrett closed his eyes and she felt the pressure of his hands dig into her thighs. With air seemingly racing in and out of her lungs, Sage opened his zipper, found him and lifted. Garrett’s eyes were fierce, on the edge of a place she’d never been with him, but she wasn’t looking away. When he slid her down onto him in one fast thrust, Sage could see the puffs of breath between them, feel the drops of rain still on their skin. Her back against the barn wall, Sage held on as Garrett frantically searched for everything he said he didn’t need with every thrust. How many people gave into that cold stare of his and left Garrett alone, she wondered as she felt her nails dig into his back until they both fell apart.