Page 92 of Unstable

“Keaton,” I don't really protest as strongly as I mean to, more so moaning and pushing back into him.

“Just a hint, come on, don’t make me fuck you in the driveway,” he hums, bringing a hand down to rub between my legs.

“T…take the papers back to town and, while you’re there,” I pant, choppy and about to lose control, “find the Kings and invite them to dinner.”

“No shit?” He quits seducing me—sneaky, sexy bastard got what he wanted—and spins me around to look at him. His face is lit up with a smile brighter than any star I’ve ever seen and his eyes dance with happiness. “Henny, God damn when you give…”

“I give good?”

“Fuck yeah you do,” he growls and takes my mouth prisoner, kissing me with a truly happy vigor, love infused in every smooth glide of his tongue. Too soon he pulls away, strokes my cheek, then grabs the papers.

“Gotta go.” He heads for his door.

I laugh. “Don’t you wanna know which farm I picked?” Not that I’m gonna tell him yet.

“Nope, don’t care. You picked, that’s all that matters.”

I keep laughing the entire time I watch him speed back down the driveway.

Maybe I’m crazy, and most would probably say I’m moving way too fast, that I need more time to cope, heal, find myself.

But they’ve never been completely loved and adored by Keaton Fucking Cash…so they can kiss my ass.

I’m all in. And it feels fantastic.

So freeing and invigorating that I’m finally living…doing the opposite of what I always have, in hopes of holding onto what I never thought I’d have.

I’m standing on my tiptoes…reaching for more.

I’m running with scissors.

I’m high-jumping over the limbo stick.

It’s funny how it took forever for my heart to reawaken and take the chance of opening—even a little—but now that it has… I couldn’t make it close back up if I tried.

And I will never try again.

At the risk of sounding like a Disney Princess…the birds seem to chirp more melodically and louder. The sky is its most vibrant blue and the leaves in the trees rustle in rhythm.

Holy shit. This is what it feels like to be in love.

Happy.

For eight years, I thought such splendors weren’t meant for me, not within my right to hope for…but now I know, happiness and love were made as much for me as anyone else.

I drive the old farm truck to the hay barn, set on throwing out a few bales for the cows, when I run into Gatlin.

He’s just sitting inside, as though waiting on me.

“Hey,” I mutter, looking at the ground, searching in the dirt for a cure to my guilt…or perhaps the right thing to say.

“No sense hiding from it, I can still see you,” he says with a tiny chuckle. “Can you look at me? No reason not to. You have nothing to be ashamed of, Henley.”

I glance up at him, using my lashes as a shield, but when I see his warm smile I lift my head fully.

“Gatlin, I—”

“Stop, let me. Henley, my intent was never to be your worry, burden or a reason for you to hold back on what your heart’s telling you is right. I was here to help you, be your friend. I feel like I’ve done that.”

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