CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
STERLING
Nothing will change Rorke’s mind. There’s an aching tension between us. It’s been building up over the past week, and it’s only a matter of time before it all comes to a head. Of course, I’d have to actually see him for that to happen. He’s up and out at dawn, and not home until the night forces him. And when he is here, he’s pouring over numbers, on the phone trying to drum up business, punching buttons on the calculator, trying to figure out where they can cut costs.
And one stroke of my pen could make it all go away.
To add to the chaos, the wedding is just two weeks away, and school will be starting up as soon as we get back from our honeymoon. In fact, football practice has already started. Rorke refuses to let go of that duty because he says he made a commitment to the team, but I know it’s really for the extra money, which isn’t much, to be honest.
He moves my hair to the side, finding that perfect spot on my neck. He seems to think me having piss poor sleeping habits is a green light to fuck me. And since this is really the only time I see him, I guess it’s a good distraction from us possibly having a real conversation. “Not this morning.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I miss you,” I whisper. Now, I know the man is not an idiot, but he still does the idiotic thing and leans back into my neck. Pushing him back and rolling onto my side, I snap, “Never mind.”
“Sterling,” he says, giving my hips a little wiggle. “I’m sorry I’ve been so busy.”
I roll over to face him. “Then let me help.”
He moves to get up. “I need to go.”
“Five seconds ago, you wanted to have sex with me,” I say snidely.
“That’s not fair,” he says, throwing me a smile. “I always want to have sex with you.”
“Dammit, Rorke!” I hop out of bed. “Talk to me.”
He throws on his shirt. “You told me that this was my call. I made it, so let it go.”
“I can’t.”
“You have to.”
“It feels too horrible,” I say, my voice cracking. “Stop and think about me for a second. How am I supposed to watch you killing yourself to try to save this place? How am I supposed to see your mom so sad? How am I supposed to do that when I could fix it all?”
“Because I asked you to,” he says simply.
“So you’d lose the farm before you let me help?” He only glares at me, as if asking the question somehow negates my belief in him. “God, you are so stubborn!”
“Let it go!” he barks.
“What if I can’t?”
“Then we have bigger problems than the farm.”
My breath catches in my throat. The threat in his tone is loud and clear. “I’m only trying to help.”
“You want to help?” he asks. “Then don’t bring this up again.”
Before I can give him the tongue-lashing he deserves, he walks out, slamming the door.
*
No matter how old you are, sometimes a woman just needs her mom. So right after Rorke slammed the door, I hopped up, threw on some clothes, and drove to see mine. She met me on the back porch with biscuits and open arms.
I’m not sure I should be spilling secrets about Rorke’s family finances, but I know anything I say to my mom, she’ll take to the grave. I pull at my hair, trying to get it off my neck, the heat and humidity already in full force this morning.
“I’m so frustrated,” I say. “My job has caused problems for my personal life, for Daddy. This is a chance for something good. I mean, what’s the point in having money if you can’t help those you love when they need it?”
“Have you said that to Rorke?” Momma asks.
“I can’t get him to listen to reason.”
“Can’t never could,” she says.
“I love you, Momma, but what does that even mean?”
“It means you have to keep trying.” She pats my thigh. “That’s what marriage is. It’s ninety-nine percent trying.”
“What’s the other one percent?”
“Sex,” she laughs.
“That’s your big advice?”
“That’s the best advice you’ll ever get,” she says.
*
Song of the day: “Issues” by Julia Michaels. I’ve got my pad of sticky notes in order of what tasks I need to tackle first. It’s not on my to-do list, but it’s the most important thing I’ll do today—fix things with Rorke. I hated the way he left this morning. We’re supposed to be giddy over getting married; it shouldn’t be like this. I’m not sure how we’re going to get over this hurdle, but avoiding one another is not the way.
I pull up next to his Jeep in the school parking lot, jot a little note, and stick it to his dash. It’s such a silly little gesture, but I know he’ll appreciate it. I still find it hard to believe he used to get jealous of my notes to Levi. He’s loved me for so long and in just a few days, we’ll make it official. Nothing should be more important than that.
I head towards the field, the sound of whistles and the banging of shoulder pads leading the way. I’ll never understand the draw of running as fast as you can into another person. Women don’t fight that way. We usually don’t let our opponents see us coming, preferring a sneak attack or a stab in the back.
But I see her coming right at me.