Page 108 of Riding the Sugar High

Her smell is distracting, and as I focus on it, I hear the thumps of her heart too. “Your heart.”

“Yes,” she whispers, the word trembling out of her lips.

“Your voice.” I hold back a sob, because I can’t cry in front of her. But she sounds so sad, and it’s because of me. “Your pain.”

Her fingers run through my hair, and I wish I wasn’t wearing it pulled back so she could do it all the way to the tips. It’s calming. “Three movements now.”

I raise my head, meeting her gaze from up close. The last time we did this, I kissed her. I’d love to do it again, and this time, I wouldn’t stop there either. Goddammit, I haven’t wanted to kiss a woman like this in the last five years.

“Three movements, Logan. You can do it.”

When I wrap one arm around her, then the other, she looks up at me, her chest heaving. If I kissed her, she would melt against me like she did yesterday. Maybe I’d get her to moan again, to pull my hair.

But I don’t want her to think she’s a cop-out. I want her to know that I crave her all the time—not just when I’m going through shit.

Before I can make up my mind, she pulls me into a hug and whispers. “Come on, third movement.”

I rub my hand on her back, run it up her shoulders and to the back of her head, pulling her closer. I stay in this twisted position, enjoying our hug, for far longer than it’s appropriate. And then some more.

When I pull back, she carefully studies my expression, and I must be looking much better, because she smiles.

I squint down at the farm, the vast expanse tinted with an orange glow now that the sun is setting. “We used to have Sunday lunches on a big table in the backyard,” I mumble. I don’t know what exactly made me think of it. “The whole neighborhood would come to the farm. Sometimes, uncles, aunts, and cousins who lived far away. Kyle, Simon, and Josie. Aaron and me. It was the place that brought us together.” I think back to the barbecues, Christmas lunches, and how my parents made it feel like everyone’s home.

“You didn’t keep the tradition alive?”

“No. Things changed.” I press my lips together. “And they’re about to change even more.”

“When you sell the farm?”

I don’t want to talk about this, but she deserves someone who isn’t afraid to speak the truth. Even when it’s hard and has the potential to ruin everything.

And there are a few truths I’ve been keeping from her.

Letting out a slow breath, I clench my teeth together to stop myself from tearing up. “It’s done, Primrose. I sold the farm.”

make my whole body tingle

Primrose

“Wait, what?”

His shoulders square as if he’s preparing himself for my attack. “The documents aren’t signed yet, but I saw Tom today and accepted the offer. It’s done.”

I swallow, but my mouth has gone dry.

Is this why we’re here? I figured he wanted to remind himself what he’s fighting for. Or that he came here because something happened, and the farm is what brings him the most comfort. Is it goodbye?

“You can’t sell the farm,” I mumble. It’s pointless to say—he can do what he wants. But I’ve got no clever ace up my sleeve to make him change his mind, no inspiring speech to deliver that’ll make him give this another chance; only my heartbreak and his, painfully present in this idyllic place.

He looks in the distance, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. “Primrose, this farm is...is part of me. It’s my legacy, my home, my passion. But there’s nothing that counts more than the lives of everyone involved.”

I slowly shake my head. “I’m not sure I understand.”

“Selling a farm isn’t an easy feat, Barbie, and if I wait to sell anddon’tfind someone willing to buy, what happens then?” He shrugs. “I’d have to declare bankruptcy. I wouldn’t be able to pay wages or insurance. You know Simon has a one-year-old? And Nadia, our accountant, has asthma and relies on us for health insurance. And Lou’s wife needs monthly treatments at the hospital.”

“But it won’t get to that point, Logan,” I say, though, really, how do I know? I’m asking him to put his faith in me, but we both know there’s no guarantees.

“And that’s only part of it. What happens to the animals if I fail? Or if I’m forced into a last-minute sale?” He rubs a hand over his face, the veins in his neck straining against his skin. “This will give me the time and money to relocate them. Make sure they’re safe and don’t end up—” He swallows. “It’s the right thing to do. The responsible choice.”

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