Page 71 of There's Pumpkin About You
She coughs out a laugh. “You struggle to understand the point of ‘eager beaver’, but ‘penny for your thoughts’ is fine?”
“That’s because the phrase makes sense when you look at its history. Your phrase rhymes. You know, it’s actually quite interesting, the phrase ‘penny for your thoughts’ is seen being used by Sir Thomas More in his works from fifteen thirty-fi—” If I wasn’t driving, I would look over to give her an annoyed glare. “Okay, I see what you did there.”
I don’t look over to see her smile, but I can feel it… somehow. It’s as if air in the car is lighter, easier to breathe. That’s the effect one smile from Wren Southwick has on not just me, but the world. All the more reason to want to beat that prick to a pulp for hurting her.
“When I’m in a better mood, you’ll have to tell me more about the phrase. It really did sound interesting.”
“I will,” I promise, making a mental note in my head to do so when the timing is better.
“You still haven’t said where we’re going,” she reminds me.
“You’ll see.”
“That’s all I get?”
“That’s all you get,” I confirm.
She hums in acknowledgment, and I continue driving towards the farm. There’s something there she should see. Besides, even if that wasn’t where I was taking her, I really should at the very least run back and grab my sling. My shoulder feels as if it’s hanging on by a thread, the pain becoming a bit harder to ignore.
When Sam told me about Wren, the adrenaline in my veins burned like fire. It zipped its way around my body faster than a soundwave and I leaped into action without thinking. There was no pain, no discomfort, just a dying need to know what happened to Wren and to make sure that she was okay.
Now, however, the adrenaline has dissipated, leaving behind an ache in my joints and a lingering pain down the entire arm. It’s a good thing I don’t drive a stick because there is no way I was using my other arm for this.
We finally make it to Eaglewood and I can swear I’ve just heard Wren breathe out a sigh of relief, as if she’s finally returned home. She may have had a stressful day here, but maybe deep down she believes that this tiny town feels more like home than Beckford does.
I pull into the farm, the silence surrounding my land filling me with both comfort and anxiety. This is my home, it always has been, but at the same time I can’t help but notice how this silence resembles the level of noise that occurs during business hours. The only real visitors we get are Nigel and Simone when they want to come and check on the poor kid who had no choice but to run a farm all by himself with no training whatsoever. They’re kind people—maybe some of the only kind people in this place—but their close eye on me could really be taken two ways. And I really don’t need people checking up on me.
I pull up in front of the main building and hop out of the truck. I see Wren make a move to open her door so I press the lock button on the car keys, enjoying the confused expression that is painted across soft skin and full lips. When I reach her side, I unlock the truck and open the door for her, holding out a hand to help her down.
Amusement swims behind dark eyes and a smile threatens to pull at the corners of her mouth.
“Did you seriously just do that?”
“If there’s one thing I’ve learned about you, sweetheart, it’s that you’re too stubborn to wait in the damn car.”
I stretch my fingers so she knows to take my hand before hopping down. She’s a whole foot shorter than me, so the distance from the truck to the floor for her is not really one that I want to see her make alone.
I can see the caution in her eyes as she takes my hand, letting me support her as she clambers down.
She looks up at me. “Happy now?”
“Very,” I answer back just as sarcastically.
I keep her hand in mine, marveling at the way they fit together perfectly. I lead her slowly towards the second field which currently holds what I think will really help Wren the way it usually helps me. The fields at night are gorgeous, but kinda spooky. The darkness hugs them like old friends, bathing them in nothing but black with the slightest hint of orange when the pumpkins are ready to be harvested.
This field is now empty thanks to not just Bash, but Finn and Sam, and even Wren. When I saw her helping Bash harvest the field, I wanted nothing more than to pull her into my arms and thank her. Thank her for seeing something worth saving, for seeing someoneworth saving.
When Wren first came along, I was stuck in this ever-shrinking bubble made out of both external and self-appointed pressure. I was made by both myself and others to believe that I am undeserving of this farm which I love so much, and I could never be enough for it to prosper.
When I then had to let go of the staff, it felt like the end, like that was it for not just the farm, but my self-confidence.
I knew when I tried to help Cliff that I couldn’t afford for anything to happen to me, and yet I did it anyway; pushed into it by my need to help those just as alone as I am.
I hold a finger up before jogging into the office to pick up my sling. When I run back out to her, my arm is back to being wrapped up and the loss of weight on my shoulder has me sighing in relief.
“Gus, where are we going?” Wren asks, just as we reach the second field.
“Right here,” I reply with a smirk.
