Kyland (Sign of Love #7)

I shook my head back and forth slowly, his hands in my hair causing it to pull against my scalp as I gazed into his troubled eyes. "How can love be a mistake?"

 

I wrapped my arms around his back, sliding my palms up his shirt to feel his smooth, warm skin. He stepped closer into my embrace.

 

"I love you, too, Ten," he finally said softly. "That's why this is so hard." He seemed almost defeated, as if the words themselves had stolen something from him.

 

My heart soared as much as it lay bleeding from hearing the distress in his voice and standing among the proof of his imminent departure. I held him tighter. "Whatever you need, Ky. Whatever that is, I'll give it to you."

 

He let out a long, shuddery breath, but remained silent.

 

The problem was I didn't know if us loving each other changed anything. In fact, after everything Kyland had shared with me over the past months, I understood more than anyone why he needed to leave. He deserved to live a life out of this house of loneliness and loss. He had to picture his torment every day—hear his brother's cries in the very walls, hear his father's voice in every room, feel his mother's absence, her abandonment. I wanted him out of here as much as he did, and yet it still hurt so much. I bit my lip. But maybe . . . maybe if he won that scholarship, he wouldn't leave me behind. Maybe sometime, somehow, we could even make a life together away from here. Maybe he'd allow that—maybe not everything from Dennville, Kentucky had to hurt. And maybe he'd be willing to take the one thing that didn't—me—with him, in his heart at first, and later . . . later, into his home, his life. Maybe first he needed some time to live without his demons, to begin to believe that love didn't always have to hurt, that sometimes love was enough. I'd wait. I'd wait as long as he needed me to.

 

We lay down on the couch together and stayed that way for a long time, Kyland lost in his own mind, and me lost in mine. After a while, he asked if I wanted to stay and study a little bit with him—finals were on Monday. We didn't discuss our feelings anymore.

 

Was love supposed to hurt like this?

 

We ate vegetable soup at his coffee table for dinner and then I kissed him goodbye. Marlo would be leaving for work soon and I needed to get home and make sure my mama was okay.

 

"I won't see you this weekend," I said sadly. "Be safe, okay?"

 

Kyland nodded, some kind of sad longing in his eyes. But he was the one going away. That was his choice. And maybe he needed it. Maybe he needed that time in that place where he had a few happy memories of his family. Maybe that was exactly what he needed. Maybe that was exactly what I needed. Maybe I simply had to let him go.

 

I loved him. I'd give him whatever he needed.

 

"It's your birthday tomorrow, too," he said, softly. "What are your plans?"

 

I shrugged. "Oh, Marlo will probably bake me a cake as hard as a brick and I'll do some reading." I smiled and he smiled back, brushing a piece of hair off my forehead.

 

"Happy birthday, Tenleigh."

 

"Happy birthday, Kyland."

 

We kissed slowly and deeply for several minutes on his couch and I sensed his desire for me. But when I pulled back, he let me. I kissed him one last time on his mouth and then I walked back to my trailer. My heart felt as though it was breaking into so many pieces, and for the life of me, I couldn't figure out how to keep them all together. And I wasn't sure I even wanted to.

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

 

 

Kyland

 

 

 

The place where I had camped with my family for years was always a little more peaceful than I remembered it—which was good because I needed a good dose of peace. Tenleigh had told me she loved me, and I'd said it back. It filled me with joy and fearful desperation. I had nothing to offer her, and now, how would I leave her behind?

 

I'd almost gone to her trailer and asked her to come with me before I'd left, but I'd resisted. The problem was, I'd been resisting her for over three weeks and I thought it would have gotten easier. Instead, my longing for her had only increased. I craved her. It was a hunger deep inside my gut—a burning that only grew fiercer, more demanding without being fed. And I knew I'd loved her for a long time—perhaps even far longer than she'd loved me. When had it happened? When had I let my guard down enough to let her sweetness slip around my heart in a way I'd never untangle myself from? And at this point, what did it even matter?

 

I looked around. There was a huge, ancient oak that provided the cover we'd always used for our "campground." We hadn't been able to afford camping gear and so we'd used the same blankets and quilts we always slept in, just with a plastic tarp underneath. My dad would make burgoo, a stew that was made from possums and squirrels and any other wild game you could catch in a small trap—venison if you had a gun. It was supposed to be a delicacy, but like so many other "delicacies," it was probably born from starvation and the likelihood that calling something a delicacy made it more palatable. As gross as it sounded, it was good. And I made a batch of it every year for this trip, which just happened to be my birthday. I thought my dad would probably like that.

 

I looked out to the field of lavender. I liked this spot because when the breeze kicked up, you could smell all those purple flowers—sweet and herbal at the same time. Calming. I sat on a huge fallen branch that had been there since I was a kid and regarded the wood for the campfire I'd laid out on the ground in front of me. I'd light it once the sky became dark and heat up the stew. I'd sleep under the stars in my makeshift sleeping bag in this spot for the very last time. I wouldn't come back here again. Something moved inside me that felt surprisingly like grief, an ache in my guts. I didn't exactly understand it—this place had been so full of pain for me because each time I came, I felt the absence of my family. But at the same time, there had been joy here, too, that I was only now remembering. How did I make sense of that? I couldn't stand these conflicting feelings. I wanted to feel hatred for Dennville, Kentucky—nothing more.

 

Tenleigh. This was because of Tenleigh. She was here and suddenly, there was beauty. Suddenly Dennville was her—the girl who had helped me move through some of the darkness, into the light. I groaned and then sat staring at the grassy ground for several minutes, debating what to do.

 

How had my life become suddenly so complicated? And so clear?

 

Tenleigh. Half agony, half hope.

 

My love for her was everything . . . and all at once.

 

I caught movement off to my left and lifted my head, startling slightly, and she was there, walking through the field of purple lavender toward me just like a dream. My heart flipped and I stood, everything inside me buzzing with sudden joy. Shit.

 

She reached me and offered a tentative smile, her hands clasped in front of her. She had her hair loosely braided and falling over one shoulder and she was wearing a white sweater that fell off her shoulder, her creamy skin exposed. And I knew I'd never see a more beautiful vision than Tenleigh Falyn standing in a field of lavender.

 

She stood taller, seeming to gather some courage. When her eyes met mine, she said, "I've been thinking about it since yesterday, and I hoped you might be okay with some company. And I didn't figure you'd turn me away today of all days." Her smile was filled with innocent hope and it made my stomach clench.

 

I smiled back at her. "You wanted to go camping with me for your birthday?"

 

She pulled her bottom lip in between her teeth and nodded. "More than anything."

 

I suddenly felt full of some form of happiness I'd never experienced before. Maybe it was the sudden appearance of the very person I'd been missing. Maybe it was the loneliness I'd just been feeling floating away as soon as Tenleigh appeared in my line of sight. Maybe it was just gratefulness, and God knew I'd had very little to be grateful for in the course of my life. I offered her a bigger smile and said, "This could be dangerous. What if sleeping outside turns me into a caveman and I try to drag you by your hair into my sleeping bag?" I lifted one side of my mouth to let her know I was teasing. We hadn't been lighthearted in what seemed like such a long time, and it felt so good.

 

"The ones who lived thousands of years ago?" she asked, amusement in her eyes as she teased me back. She tilted her head, her expression growing serious. "I wouldn't resist," she whispered, biting her full bottom lip.

 

I felt my eyes widen and my chest fill with tenderness. "Tenleigh," I breathed. Her lips were so beautiful. I wanted them on my skin. Everywhere. She didn't break eye contact with me. I stepped closer to her and her scent washed over me, distant wildflowers on a summer breeze. Suddenly, I felt like this was the most natural thing in the whole world. Standing outside under the shade of a giant oak tree, the endless sky stretching out around us, not a building in sight, I couldn't remember why I'd ever resisted her. I couldn't for the life of me think why we wouldn't act on the feelings that were swirling through the air around us, feelings only God himself could have invented. It was like there was some kind of magic in the breeze that reduced the world down to just the two of us, standing there. I closed my eyes and inhaled, growing dizzy with the feeling of need coursing through my system, and let my instincts take over. I leaned in and she tilted her head back, lifting her lips to mine, parting them to permit me access. I groaned and pressed my lips to hers, any fleeting thoughts of why this shouldn't happen lost in the mingled sound of our moans and the wet sound of our tongues dancing.

 

I ran my hands down the sides of her body, moving slowly over her feminine curves, marveling at how differently she was made from me, how perfectly we fit together. "I want to feel your skin, Tenleigh," I choked out as I broke away from her lips and gazed down into her eyes—eyes filled with lust . . . and love.

 

The sun was just setting, twilight moving quickly across the mountains.

 

Tenleigh glanced quickly at the makeshift bed I'd set up on the ground under the far-reaching branches of the tree. She took my hand and led me to stand beside it.

 

"Tenleigh, I—" She reached up and put two fingers on my lips to stop my words. I went silent. Truthfully, I didn't know what I'd been about to say anyway. Another warning about how this wouldn't change anything? Another reminder I was still leaving? Surely she'd heard those words from me enough anyway—she probably didn't want to hear them in this moment. And I didn't really want to say them anyway. I was starting to wonder if I even meant them. I was starting to wonder a lot of things.

 

We kissed and kissed and kissed. We kissed for what seemed a lifetime. Tenleigh was the only girl I had ever kissed like that. Always before, I had quickly tried to move things to the next level. But with her, I let myself melt into the pleasure of her mouth, my body heating slowly. I memorized the feel of her soft body pressing into mine, the sweet taste of her lips, her tongue, her breath.

 

After a while she pulled back, her cheeks flushed and her lips wet and red, dark hair falling loose from her braid to frame her face. Sometimes her beauty was almost shocking. As I looked at her, it was as if the vision sunk through my skin, into my blood, my soul. My body pulsed with need.

 

"I'm going to try to be gentle," I said. Her eyes flared, but she only nodded. Visions were assaulting my brain—visions I'd pushed away before, but now I let swirl inside my mind—pictures of Tenleigh's head thrown back in passion, her legs wrapped around my hips as I drove into her.

 

I let myself imagine it. I let myself anticipate it, because it was about to happen.

 

Slowly, we stripped off our clothes as the other watched. Up until that point, I'd never experienced anything more erotic than watching Tenleigh bare herself to me, knowing that very soon I was going to be inside her. When she was completely nude, I let my eyes do a slow perusal of her body, although I'd seen her naked before. But that had always been in the dim walls of my room. This, this was under the setting sun, the golden light shining on her skin, the cool air pebbling her rose-colored nipples.

 

"You're stunning," I whispered.

 

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