Page 134 of If It's You

The sweat dripped down his face, and he reached for his water bottle. Shoot. It was empty.

He reached for another one. They always shared when out working.

“If you’re thirsty, I’ll just spit in your mouth,” Eric said.

He dropped the water bottle that must have been Eric’s. “Sorry.”

Eric chuckled and slapped him on the back. “I’m just messing with you. Let’s head to the farmhouse to cool off for a minute.”

The entire group sighed with relief, and as Christian walked back to the house, he thought over what Grandma had asked him a couple of days ago. Did he want to stay? Was it a possibility?

At the beginning of the summer, he would have said “no” faster than a cow could lift its tail. But now, the idea of leaving was scarier than the prospect of staying.

He shoved his hand through his hair. He still didn’t know much about the farm, but he did love it. It was peaceful and different from the city. Everyone banded together to help their neighbors. It felt … real.

The second he got back to the farmhouse, he looked online to see how easy it would be to transfer schools. The U hadn’t been his dream; it had been his dad’s, and after he had passed, Christian had naturally felt obligated to go. But wouldn’t his dad be just as happy if he found what he was looking for down here?

It was the middle of the day, and his mom probably wouldn’t answer the phone, but he tried anyway.

“Is everything okay?” His mom answered on the first ring, a familiar worry filling her voice.

He sat on the edge of his bed and bent over his knees, rubbing his head with his free hand. “Mostly.”

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” His mom’s voice comforted him for the first time since leaving Maizie the other night.

“I took Maizie on a date.”

“Hey, that’s great,” his mom jumped in.

“I think I love her.” His voice was soft, and his mom fell silent on the other end.

“You do?”

Christian thought of her gorgeous yet stubborn smile, her talent for dancing, and what it felt like to hold her, like she was perfectly made for his arms. She pushed him over the edge and to new heights at the same time.

“Yes.”

“And she?”

“I know she feels something, but she won’t let herself.” He pressed his fingers to the center of his forehead.

“Maybe she just needs some time.”

“She doesn’t want a summer fling.”

“But that’s not what this is, is it?” his mom asked.

“No. It’s not. I’ve never felt this way before, and I couldn’t imagine just leaving at the end of the summer. And not just because of her. But because of this place.” Why was this so hard?

“So don’t.” His mom’s words came so fast, he nearly missed it.

“What?”

“You don’t have to come back here.” He couldn’t be sure, but it almost sounded like his mom was crying.

“But dad always wanted me to go to the U.”

“That’s true. But far more importantly, your dad wanted you to find what made you happy, and your father would be happy as long as you are.”