Page 169 of Always Meant for You
His jaw tenses. “I got scared. You’d changed. You used to love everything about Elverna. But you’d stopped. You covered your room with postcards and dreams of faraway cities. You talked nonstop about going to New York and Paris. You dressed differently. You had Jamie take you to get a passport. How could I compete with that?”
Tears prick at the corners of my eyes. “Cal, you should have said something.”
“I was going to,” he says, a sad smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. “I decided I’d do it when you turned twenty-one. But I wanted to talk to Jamie first.”
“My brother never mentioned it to me.”
Cal stays quiet, then a tear trails down his cheek. “Jamie never got the chance to talk to you.”
I reach for my M charm, emotion building in my chest. “You wanted to tell me on my twenty-first birthday.”
He nods, staring at the charm, another tear slipping free. “I’d been counting the days, trying to find the right moment to tell your brother how I felt—and then your dad. That morning, I was helping Jamie in the field. I was so nervous. I thought he’d be furious with me. I made sure I had the keys to the tractor, so he couldn’t chase me with it or run me over.”
I chuckle through my tears.
His expression softens. “But I should have known better. He wasn’t mad. He said he always knew I was sweet on you. That he was waiting for me to get my head out of my ass and tell you how I felt. He also said he might need to take a swing at me out of some protective brotherly code, but that he’d go easy and not break my jaw.”
“Sounds like him,” I say, laughing or crying, maybe a little of both.
Cal drags his hand down his face and exhales an audible breath. “It was like a weight had been lifted. I was so damned happy. And then he clutched at his heart and collapsed. Before I could get help, he grabbed my wrist. He must have known what was coming. He made me promise him something.”
“What did he say?” I ask, tears streaming down my cheeks.
“He made me promise to take care of Elverna and make our plan a reality. Then he made me promise to make this town a place worthy of you. He made me swear I’d take care of you and love you and make you happy.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I can barely form the words.
Cal grimaces and shakes his head. “I wanted to. But after Jamie died, nothing felt right. He was the heart of this town. He was the big dreamer. My fear took over. This fear that I couldn’t turn the town around. I knew you wanted the city life, and I twisted what happened to my mother to what could happen to you.” His voice softens. “I thought the city took her from me, and I believed it would take you too.”
I nod. “I understand why you’d feel that way, Cal.”
“But I was wrong,” he says, conviction coating his words.
I watch him, surprised.
“Your time in New York City didn’t make you weak or grind you down,” he says. “It didn’t pull you under. It made you stronger. I see that now.”
“Do you mean that?” I whisper.
“I do. It’s why I brought you here. This is where I hurt you. This is where I need to make it right. This is where I tell you that I want to build a life with you. And if you want to work with Preston and Logan and spend time in the city, I won’t hold you back. I’ll never hold you back. I swear it on my mother’s life and on my best friend’s life. I love you, Mabel. I love you with everything I’ve got.”
My tears spill freely.
“Even if Jamie hadn’t asked,” he continues, “I would have worked my ass off to make this place somewhere you’d be proud to live. Everything I poured into this place has been for you—it’s always been for you.”
He rests his forehead against mine. I slide my arms around his neck, and he guides me back onto his lap. But I’m not folded into him shaking. I’m straddling him. I’m eye to eye with him.
“I love you, Mabel Ruth Muldowney,” he says, smiling at me through tears. “I love your ambition. Your ideas. I love your pink heels. I love that you challenge me. I love how you move throughthe world, loud and soft all at once. I loveyou. Every version of you. For me, it’s always been you or no one else. The question is, could you love a farmer? Could you love me, flaws and all?”
This man.
“I’ve only ever loved you, Cal,” I say, the words pouring out of me. “I don’t remember a second of my life where you weren’t the center of my universe. So, yeah, I love a farmer. I’m in love with a farmer who rescues cats, who puts everyone before himself, who makes me crazy with his whiteboards, and all those . . .”
He laughs, then stills. “What is it? I can cut back on the whiteboards. I just find them helpful.”
I cup his face in my hands and lean in. “You can have all the whiteboards you can fill. But I need to know one more thing about the man I love.”
A slow, sexy grin spreads on his lips, and it’s the kind of smile that should come with a warning label. “I think I know where this is going,” he says.
