“You said it yourself, people are looking for clean, organic products.” He holds up the small, round jar of hydrating lip masque. “I’m almost out of this.”
“I’ll make a little care package for you.”
I immediately start a mental list of all the things I’ll add to it. Prints of those pictures we took before the Peach Ball—I have both of them framed on my dresser. A little book of peach puns I found in a gift shop. A tennis ball with a line on it…
“I talked to Sawyer last night.” His voice is quiet, and he immediately has my attention.
“What do you mean?”
He shifts position, sitting up. “We had night watch, and we were pretty much trying not to fall asleep… He asked me if we were serious.”
“What did you say?” I don’t know why my chest feels tight.
“What do you think I said?” Taron’s pretty eyes crinkle with his grin. “I said yes.”
“How did he take it?”
“Just like Sawyer. He nodded and didn’t say much. I think he’s okay with it, but I’m watching my back.”
He’s joking, but I’m chewing my bottom lip. “I wonder why he didn’t ask me?”
“Probably because Leon already threatened to kick my ass.”
My jaw drops at that. “Leon? He… did what?”
“I told you he cared about you.”
That makes me sit back on my butt. I look to the side, thinking about my two brothers and how unexpected they are. Leon stomps around complaining about how he’s starving to death and is a general pest, but he hasn’t stopped helping me clean up after meals. He’s actually started pitching in even more since the guys left, running errands and keeping track of his schedule better.
Sawyer left the whole orchard in my hands, and now this.
“Well, I’ll be.”
“Don’t say anything to him. That was between us.”
“I won’t.”
Loud voices fill the background, and Taron looks over his shoulder. “The guys are coming. I guess it’s too late for you to show me your tits.”
“Taron!” My voice goes loud, but a tingle is between my thighs. “I’m sure Sawyer would not appreciate that.”
“He doesn’t have to know everything we do.”
“And Mindy’s here.”
His full lips press into a line. “Sounds like a no.”
“I miss you.”
“I miss you, too, princess.”
“I was never a princess.”
“I’m still not a prince.”
Leaning forward, I kiss the air in front of the camera. “You’re still handsome.”
We say goodnight and sign off, and I sit for half a second before hopping up and running to the bathroom. With my back to the door, I unbutton my shirt and take a quick picture of my bare breasts and text it to him.
My stomach is tight, and I feel like I’m being insanely bad. I get an immediate text reply. Gorgeous. Just what I needed.
I type a quick reply. They miss your kisses.
Now you’re just being cruel.
“Where the heck did you go?” Mindy’s voice outside the door makes me jump. “Are you in there crying?”
“No…” I finish with a heart emoji and a kiss.
He replies with an eggplant, and I laugh, sending him a peach, to which he replies Dat ass.
I love you.
Love you back.
I quickly delete the selfie from our text string and turn off my phone. I’ve got to get back to work, but I have an idea for bringing him a little closer.
14
Taron
December
A matchbox-sized red Chevy truck is in this month’s care package, along with a photo of Akela looking down at a burned hoecake. Another picture of Noel holding the sides of her hair out over an accounting textbook makes me laugh, and a newspaper clipping of that little red-haired girl holding an Autumn’s Bounty candle.
A two-page, handwritten letter explains everything, how Noel hasn’t been able to make a decent hoecake since I left, which I don’t believe. How accounting finals are this week, and how the local paper did a feature on her product line—endorsed by the new Princess Peach.
The red Chevy needs no explanation…
I trace my finger along the swirls of her handwriting, thinking how valuable such a thing feels to me now. We text little notes to each other every day, all day, and we Facetime every night. Still, this is special. Things she forgets to tell me or saves for these monthly missives. Holding it to my nose, I take a long inhale of her signature scent, and my longing for her is soul-deep.
“Dad wants to know how much longer we’ll be in Mexico.” Patton Fletcher is in his bunk across from mine scoffing at his most recent letter. “He’s not impressed by the lack of danger in our mission, says we should inquire about getting out early, since we’re clearly being used for National Guard duty.”
“He’s busting your balls.”
“Maybe… but not entirely.”
“He’s worried the Nashville business community won’t find decent real estate without you.”
Patton’s dad owns Fletcher Properties, and for years, he’s been claiming he’ll retire and give the company to his son. I’ll believe it when I see it. George S. Fletcher, Sr., is the Queen of England when it comes to his fledgling enterprise turned multi-million-dollar corporation. They’ll pry those reins out of his cold dead hands.
“He still doesn’t understand why we’re here.” Swinging his legs off the side of the bunk, Patton walks over to the desk and wakes his laptop. “He thinks I enlisted so I could run for senate.”
My brow quirks. I never thought of that. “Did you?”
Black eyes cut to mine. “I have no interest in politics… other than how it affects my business.” He shifts that laser focus to the computer screen. “We came here to make a difference.”
His words became a sort of mantra between us. I remember us sitting around at the Y after a day of shooting hoops. Patton always wanted to do more. We’d see military observances, and he was always interested. As the world became more chaotic, more obsessed with appearances and possessions, he’d talk about how the military kept it simple, grounded—serve and protect.
It was unexpected coming from him, the kid who grew up with the silver spoon in his mouth, but I agreed with him. My home life hadn’t give me much to be proud of, and I didn’t have many prospects. Hard work and discipline didn’t scare me, and the idea of the three of us doing it together seemed like a good plan. We spent most of our time together anyway. Then we met Sawyer.
Then I met Noel.
She’s so beautiful. She has dreams and so much ahead of her. I want to bring something to the table as well. Sure, I can never be a prince, but I could be a hero. I’ve trained for it. If I could do something, come back with a medal, a badge of honor, no one could say we don’t belong together. I want to give her that. I want to deserve her…
And I really want to be with her on her birthday.
Nights of talking through the computer screen or seeing her beautiful body on my phone are wearing on me. She’s going to be nineteen in a few days, and I’d give anything to be there with her.