Page 43 of The Last Lavender Sister

Aster got right to the point again, unblinking in the things she’d say in either innocence or sincerity. Subtlety be damned. It was a quality Brynn had found refreshing in their past interactions. Now, it terrified her. “Of course Ifeelsomething for you. We crystalized from the beginning.”

“I think about you a lot in Boston.” Aster shook her head, a ball of frustration and longing. “I think about kissing you again, and talking to you in person or on the phone, and seeing if there’s maybe more here between us to explore. I think there is.” She hadn’t moved. She’d kept her promise.

“No. There can’t be,” Brynn said automatically. This was not a path she wanted to go down. She wasn’t capable.

“It doesn’t sound like you fully believe that, but what I am hearing is that I’m not what you want for yourself.”

“I didn’t say I didn’twantyou. God. Why do we have to do this?” She pressed her hands to her eyes and pulled her knees in to her chest tightly. “I do. I want to walk to you right now and pull you in and…” She couldn’t finish the sentence.

“What?”

“No.” She stood, using the action to gather her courage to resist. It didn’t work.

“What, Brynn? You want to what? Why can’t you just tell me?”

“To what end?”

“My sanity. My understanding. Just say the words. What is it that you want, Brynn?”

The words tumbled out in a burst. “To kiss you and not stop. To be with you. To not be afraid of us, of you and what I feel.”

Silence. The night held them tightly.

“So I’m not crazy.”

“No.” Brynn paused. “But that doesn’t change anything. My life is still my life.”

Finally, Aster spoke, resigned. “And since that’s the case, maybe I should walk you home. Put myself out of my misery.”

Brynn shivered and ached, torn in two directions, hating both her heart and her head. “Aster.”

“It’s okay. You want me, but you don’t.”

“I can’t.”

“Right. You have someone. You must love her, and that’s good for me to know. I’m happy for you.”

Nothing about Aster’s posture or disposition said she was. She’d put herself out there, she’d pushed for a chance, and Brynn had put up a roadblock. It wasn’t comfortable or desirable, but it’s what was best for everyone. She’d learned to look five steps ahead to keep her life from ever becoming the messy saga it once was. Self-preservation. Hell, she was finally in a spot where she could breathe.

“That doesn’t mean I don’t care about you.”

Aster nodded from where she walked along Brynn’s elbow. “I care about you, too.” They walked in silence the handful of blocks to Baker Street, where Aster stared at the grouping of houses. “Mr. Anderson painted his mailbox.”

“He did. I miss the dusty blue.”

“Me, too,” Aster said wistfully. “A lot.” It felt like maybe they were talking about something else.

“Want to come in and see Pickles?” Brynn asked. Her dog would likely be snoozing in her doughnut bed, cuddling her stuffed ear of corn.

“Badly. But no. I don’t think I should.”

“Aster, please.” She reached for her hand and intertwined their fingers. “You have to be my friend. I’m not going to be able to take it if you’re not.” Desperation huddled in her chest, burning a hole.

Aster swallowed, and Brynn pulled her gaze away from the smooth column of her neck. Aster seemed to make a decision. “I can try and do that. Again.”

“Let’s not lose touch this time. I don’t want to go a year without hearing from you.”

Aster nodded. “I’ll send you my address. You know, for thewedding invitation.” She punctuated the comment with the sideways smile, but the tense undercurrent remained.

---