Bet The Farm - Staci Hart Page 0,67
you’re going to leave, just like you did before. And then what?”
My throat closed with a painful squeeze. “So you’d rather have nothing than take a risk?”
His lips rose on one side. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m not exactly a risk taker.”
“Maybe it’s high time you tried it. Frank Brent risked his whole farm for you.”
“And look at how that turned out.”
“You’re here, so I’d say it turned out pretty well.”
He watched me, his brows together in curiosity. “How can you defend me after everything I’ve done? I’ve said things I don’t mean and shouldn’t be forgiven for.”
“You’re right. I should go.” I pretended to turn, then smiled up at him when he chuckled.
“How do you always do that?” he asked, searching my face. “How do you take every hurtful thing that happens to you and twist it into something good? You’ve always done it, even when we were kids. Frank used to tell the story of your little pink suitcase you rolled up to the house with after your parents died. About how you dried your tears and put on a smile and unpacked your teddy bears. How you went a whole year and only wore pink because it made you happy. You have a Thank Bank, for God’s sake. You should hate me, but you kissed me. You came here even to apologize when it’s me who should be apologizing.”
A hard swallow did little to rein in my tears, but I said, “I mean, I’ll take an apology if you’re handing them out.”
Another laugh. “God, I am so sorry, Olivia. I’m sorry for every unkind word, every push, everything. But I don’t deserve your forgiveness.”
“Are you asking me to not forgive you?” I teased.
“Would you think less of me if I said it’d be easier to accept rejection if I asked for it?”
“No, I’d say it was pretty on-brand. And so would my inability to do anything but forgive you.”
He shook his head with a pained sort of wonder etched on his face. “Why?”
“Because you’re more than you believe you are. You’re worth more than you know. But I see it—I’ve always seen it, even when you try to prove otherwise. This place, Pop—they’re a part of you, and they’re a part of me. All I’ve wanted is to prove my worth. To earn your trust. I’m not leaving, Jake. Where would I go? What would I do when part of me will always be here? I don’t have to make good of everything—there is good in everything. I just have to find it. I’ve always known there’s good in you too, if I was patient and persistent enough to get past Mad Jake.”
His hand slipped into my hair, my jaw in his palm. He lifted my face so he could peer down into it. “But if I’m not mad, there’s no way I’ll be able to stay away from you.”
The squeeze in my chest tightened at the admission. “Then don’t stay away. Don’t listen to Mad Jake. Nobody likes him anyway.”
A laugh of surprise floated out of him, his chin tilting and eyes closing for a split second. “I’m not a fan of him, either.”
“Don’t fight anymore,” I plead. “Don’t fight me. Don’t fight what you want. If you let go, you’ll just float on what comes. It’ll carry you instead of you pushing in the other direction. This fight, the one you’ve been fighting since I’ve known you … it’s killing you. There’s no way to be happy when all you do is buck against what you have. You have me, if you want me. Are you willing to walk away from that happiness? Or do you doubt I can make you happy?”
“Never. Not for a second, even in those stupid boots.”
My heart flung itself into my sternum, and I smiled at him to cover my nerves. “See? You even like my stupid boots. You think my boots are cute because they’re stupid, don’t you?”
“Why do you always think you’re right?” he asked with a smile that told me I was absolutely right.
“Because I usually am. It’s just math at this point.”
A chuckle. A look of deep longing.
“I won’t hurt you, not on purpose.”
“I know. You couldn’t hurt a rabid bunny rabbit, not on purpose.” He pulled me closer. “What if it’s me? If you don’t leave, I’ll still lose you somehow. I’ll drive you away without meaning to because I just don’t know any better.”
“I’m tougher than I look. I’ve taken it