“I know, Da.”
“Good.”
I shuffle away from the pair before I’m seen, my mind whirling with the overheard words. I had no idea Kellyn’s father was such a romantic, but that doesn’t surprise me as much as Kellyn’s first words.
I bring the water into the house for Kahlia before excusing myself. I head for the surrounding trees, near the hammocks, needing time to think. Birdsong mixes with the rushing river in a soothing tone. The grass dents comfortably under my boots, and the trees provide me cover.
But either I wasn’t as quiet as I thought or Kellyn saw me tiptoeing over here.
Because he’s suddenly there.
He looks troubled. “How much of that did you overhear?”
“Probably all of it.”
“I’m so sorry. My da is ridiculous.”
“I think he’s sweet.” But that’s beside the point. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
He shuffles between putting his weight on his left and right leg. “I’m going to need you to be more specific.”
“I thought you selfish. I was so angry at you for taking our money and not jumping into danger when you were needed. But it was all for your family. They desperately need the money, and they can’t afford to lose you.”
He doesn’t say anything, so I repeat, “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because … it was easier to let you think me a villain than to tell you some sob story about my poor and enormous family.”
“I asked about your family. You could have told me then.”
“I know. I … have a hard time talking about personal things.”
Vulnerability. That’s what it comes down to for him.
“There’s so much love here,” I say. “Why would you ever leave? It’s safe and beautiful, and those children adore you.”
He steps forward a few feet to lean his shoulder against the nearest tree. “It’s hard for you to imagine, isn’t it? Ever leaving somewhere safe? This place is wonderful, and I love to visit. But it’s also stifling. I don’t want to be a farmer. I didn’t like any of the seven girls my age in the village.
“Besides, I wanted adventure. I wanted to see the world and meet new people. I would never have had that here.”
We’re so different, he and I. He wants to see the world and I want to hide from it. Here he feels stifled. Here I feel safe.
I wonder if he’s thinking the same thoughts I am in the silence that follows.
“Wait,” I say, looking up. “You talk about personal things. You made a point of telling me ridiculous nonsense about your feelings early on.”
He grins wickedly. “You mean my feelings about you?”
My cheeks heat and I look down.
“That’s not personal. Besides, it’ll never amount to anything because you don’t want it to. So why should I feel vulnerable about that? I do it simply to get a rise out of you. To see that lovely blush spread across your freckled cheeks.”
“I’m glad making me uncomfortable is so entertaining for you.”
He steps forward until he’s standing right in front of me. I stare at the triangle of skin beneath his throat, where his shirt is cut into the shape of a V. Then his fingers are on my cheek, and my whole body lights up in flame.
“It’s not that,” he says. “I hope that one of these times, you might not be uncomfortable. That you’ll be brave enough to try something new.”
I clench my jaw and look up. “I can be brave if I want to. I just don’t want to be brave with you.”
His head angles to the side, and his eyes are on my lips. “Why?”
The question is so sincere and so startling that I freeze.
Because he’s selfish?
No, he’s not. I know that now.
Because he’s arrogant?
Yes, but not overly so. I actually kind of envy that about him.
Because he’s so big and terrifying?
He’s never hurt me, and I know he would never hurt me.
So then, why?
Because this is new. Because I’ve never done this before. I don’t know how. It isn’t safe. It isn’t familiar.
I can’t tell if the next words out of my lips are intentional or not, but out they come anyway. “Because I don’t know how.” I realize then that my eyes are trained on his lips. I can tell this because they’re moving closer as he leans his head down.
“To kiss or to be brave? Because I can help you with the first one, if you’d like?”
The question might sound arrogant on someone else. But he says it so gently, so openly—in such a way that I know he cares about the answer, and I know that the rejection will hurt. Because this time, he’s really putting himself out there.