Page 121 of Country Contract

“We all know that wasn’t what we agreed on,” I croak.

“Well, sometimes things change,” Cassidy adds. “You didn’t even tell her that you love her, did you?”

I shake my head, and a tear falls, I wipe it away with my shoulder before it can roll down my face and hit B.

“What good would that have done? She’s got a fiancé.”

“No, she doesn’t. Her parents want her tohave one. That’s different from having one. You could have told her how you felt,” she adds.

“What does it matter?”

“It matters.” My brother’s voice is stern. I’m not surprised by his support. Although he told me to not get too involved, he isn’t the type to rub my nose in it while I’m hurting.

“Well, I didn’t. I’m not going to make it harder for her to have to go home. If I told her, ‘Oh, by the way, I am completely in love with you and want you to leave your family, friends, and life behind to be with me after knowing me for seven weeks’ . . . what would she say?” I stand and hand Blake to Cassidy. I can feel my heart beat faster and harder in my chest, and my shoulders begin to shake with emotion.

“Me fucking too. That’s what she would have said,” Cassidy states firmly.

“You don’t know that,” I bark, and I watch Hunter stand taller and look sternly at me after raising my voice to his wife.

“Even if she said, ‘I can’t. I love you, too, but can’t stay’ . . . that would have been closure.” I don’t think I’ve ever seen Cassidy mad at me, and she is. Blake wakes up in her arms and sees her mother’s red cheeks.

“The end of our contract is closure. It’s my fault for falling in love with her.” Blake turns to me and sees my hurt. She reaches for me, and I take her back in my arms. Her hands are all over my face, and I can’t help the sad laugh that escapes me.

“Harrison. This is the first time in my life I think that your love isn’t situational. I think you love that woman, and I think you’re a fool for not telling her.” Hunter takes Blake from me and walks away without another word.

“You should have told her.” Cassidy puts a hand on my shoulder and pats it before following her husband.

I let out a heavy breath before heading down the stairs to find my whole family ready and waiting for me.

“Come on, boys, let’s get outside and help your hands. We can work with a broken heart—it’s still beating.” My father’s baritone voice is a balm for my newest burn.

So, I do. I listen to my dad and work outside the rest of the day. I don’t know when I’ll get around to cleaning the bunkhouse, but I know I need to wait a few days before setting foot in there again.

After what felt like the longest day of my life, we’re finally done with everything. I head over to my trailer and rinse off, giving myself extra time under the hot spray to wash away all the tension.

I toss on sweats and the PCHS hoodie Harlow had without washing it. It smells like her—jojoba and a woodsy undertone. It’s earthy and ethereal, just like her. My couch isn’t as comfortable as I remember, so I try to readjust how I sit multiple times before I finally settle, only to realize I left my sketchpad in my overnight bag.

I get up and grab my bag and supplies before repeating the whole process. I open the sketchbook to that bust and finally finish it. Strong jaw, defined collarbone, small breasts, and eyelashes like a spider’s web. Her lips are pouted, and her nose is slightly turned up in the air. Jet-black strands of long hair cascade down her back, and I’m awestruck by my ability to capture her.

I’m staring at the image frozen in time when I hear a hard knock at the door. It’s likely my brother or father with a beer. I appreciate their love and support, but I need to be alone.

When I swing the door open, I don’t see my brother’s orfather’s blue eyes. Instead, I’m met with golden ones. Golden eyes, red hair, and a cute pinkish-brown nose. It’s my puppy being held by long, delicate fingers tipped with black nails. My eyes move from the pup to the woman holding her.

Harlow is standing on my doorstep, dog in her arms, white and reddish-brown hair all over her black cloak jacket. Her face is as swollen and red as mine and her hair is a complete mess. I watch her lip quiver as she looks at me.

“Harl—”

“I love you,” she blurts out. “I am in love with you. You are my right person at just the right time. Your easygoing nature, the way you make me feel good. The way you dedicate yourself to your family and this farm. I love it and I don’t want to leave. I?—”

I can’t listen for another moment. I grab Harlow by the back of her neck and pull her to me, crushing our mouths together but being careful not to crush my new dog. I try to pull her inside, but her heels are planted into the ground.

“Come in,” I say.

“I need to get Cleo; take Lilly.” She holds the puppy out.

“Lilly?” I ask, taking her from Harlow.

She turns and jogs to her car, yelling back to me. “Yeah, like Lillith.”

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