“For hours, I watched the door. I kept waiting for him to come back downstairs, but he never did. I remember that it got dark and I was so hungry, so I went into the kitchen and opened a can of SpaghettiOs for me and Jenna and we ate ’em cold. Nothing was ever the same after that night.

“She turned four two days later.

“Dad got her a cake and presents, and celebrated like nothing was wrong, but every time he looked at me, I could see how much he hated me. How much he blamed me. It went on like that for a couple of years. Until I finally got up the nerve to ask him about it. He told me he could never forgive me for taking her from him. He said there was something wrong with me. He said I didn’t know how to love the right way, that I only hurt the people I was supposed to care about. He never let me forget it, either. After that day, he only hid his feelings from Jenna. Never from me. He blamed me for everything after that. If Jenna fell off her bike and scraped her knee, it was my fault for not watching her closely enough. If she got in a fight at school, it was my fault for being a terrible big brother. He never said anything in front of her, though. He wanted her to have a good life, one without all the pain we’d known. And so did I. I didn’t want her to have to feel like I did all the time. I even tried not to love her. I was afraid if I loved her like I did Mom, something would happen to her. Like Dad said. So I never did. And nothing bad ever happened to her. I learned early on that the best thing I could do for people I cared about was to stay away from them. To care as little about them as possible. And it’s worked. I haven’t lost another person I loved since the day Mom died. And neither had Dad.”

A sob is torn from my throat. I clamp my hand over my mouth to hold it in, but like pressure building up behind a kinked water hose, the dam eventually breaks. And when it does, nothing can control the flood. I bury my face in my hands and let go.

Even behind my hands, behind my closed eyes, I see the picture of Jake’s tortured face. He’s learned not to let his pain show, but for these few seconds, in the quiet night and pale, silvery moonlight, he let me see. And it’s almost too much to bear.

I feel him lean over me and wrap his arms around my shoulders, smoothing my hair with his wide palm. “Shhh,” he whispers. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

I wind my arms around his waist, lay my face against his chest and I cry. I cry for Jake. From the deepest, darkest part of my soul, I cry for him. For all he’s been through. For all he’s lost. For a lifetime of feeling he’s to blame. And for a lifetime of missing out on something so simple yet so profound as love.

“Oh God, Jake, I’m so sorry! I’m so sorry you’ve been through so much. No one deserves that.”

“It’s over now. I just wanted you to know who I am. Who I was. But that’s in the past now. There’s no need for you to cry.”

I lean back and look into his handsome face. “You’re comforting me?” I reach up to cup his cheeks. “If there was some way I could help, some way I could take away the pain, I would do it, Jake. I would do that for you. I’d give anything to go back and make things different for you. You’ve missed out on so much. So much love and happiness.”

Jake grabs my wrist and turns his lips into my palm then smiles a small smile. “But it’s made me who I am today. And today, I’m a different man. Because of you.” Reaching up to brush his thumb over my cheekbone, Jake’s eyes pour bits and pieces of his heart into mine. “Today, I realized that I’m not the person he thought I was. Today, I realized that I don’t always hurt the people I love. Today, I realized that I’d rather walk into a fire and carry out your father, who hates me, and your fiancé, who’s marrying the woman I love, than to see you hurting for one more second. Today, for the first time in my life, I felt like I could love somebody like they deserved to be loved. Like I could love you the way you deserve to be loved.”

Taking my face in both his hands, he tilts it up to his. “Laney, I don’t deserve you. I could never deserve you. But I can promise you that there’s not another man on the planet that will love you like I do. That would lay down his life for your happiness. That would give up his whole world if it made you smile. And I’m not letting you go without a fight. I watched you walk away once and it nearly killed me. I won’t let it happen again.”

I’m crying again. But this time, tears of pure joy. My heart is near bursting from the most intense, overwhelming happiness I could ever imagine feeling. Nothing else in my entire life has ever come close to this. And I have a feeling that nothing else ever will.

“I love you, Jake Theopolis,” I whisper, scattering kisses all over his face. “I love you more than anyone has a right to love another human being. Do you hear me? Promise me you’ll never leave me. Promise me.”

In my fervor, my lips cross his. And, like always, there’s a spark. Only this time, there’s more. There’s love. And there’s salt. And there’s tenderness. And there’s hope.

And, right in the middle of it all, there’s heat.

“Never,” he murmurs against them, his tongue licking over the crease.

Like the fire at the church—sudden, explosive, raging—everything I feel for Jake and everything he feels for me bubbles to the surface. We are hands and lips. We are mouths and tongues. We are passion and desperation. And it is beautiful.

When Jake slips his hands beneath my skirt and tears my panties off, I reach behind me for the roll bar, winding my arms around it. I hear him fumble with his zipper and then he’s lifting me off my feet, slamming me down on him, rocking me against the cushioned bar.

My legs around his waist and his long, thick hardness buried inside me, Jake moves me against him. Over him. Through him, it seems. And when I come apart, in a shower of bright white stars and crackling heat, I hear his hoarse, velvety voice breaking the silence. With every stroke, he whispers, “I love you. I love you. I love you.”

Those three simple words have never meant so much.

THIRTY-EIGHT: Jake

Two months later

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Jenna asks, stabbing me in the ribs with her pointy elbow.

“There’s not enough room in this kitchen for both of us, dammit!” I snap.

I’m glad that Jenna has finally overcome her grief enough that she can come into the house, but we are tripping all over each other trying to get shit ready for this cookout.

“God! You’re so grouchy! When was the last time Laney stayed over?”

“I haven’t seen her all week. Does that answer your question?”

“Yes. It. Does. We are Theopolises. We need our . . . attention.”

“Ewww, could you please refrain from making me nauseous right before supper.”

“That’s not me making you nauseous. That’s nerves. You think I don’t know what’s going on, but I do-oo,” she gloats in her singsong voice.

“And just what do you think is going on?”

“I think you invited the big bad preacher over here because you’re gonna ask for his daughter’s hand. And I think that’s why you’re so grouchy. And I think that’s why you’re so nervous. And I also think it’s the sweetest thing ever!” With a squeal, Jenna throws her arms around my neck and kisses my cheek loudly. “I hope he tells you no just to yank your chain. And then, when I jump in to restrain you from kicking his ass, he’ll tell you to please take his daughter to the bedroom and ravage her immediately, and you’ll live happily ever after.”

When she finally leans back, I frown down at her. “What the hell have you been smoking?”

“Oh, come on!” she says, slapping my arm. “You need to ask that girl to marry you before someone else does. I’ve never seen you this happy. And you’re just enough of an idiot to do something stupid, like wait too long and screw it up. I can’t stand the—”

“Damn, Jenna, take a breath. And hush that loud mouth of yours,” I say in a quieter voice. “They’ll be here any minute.”

“What does it matter if they hear me? If you weren’t planning on asking—”

I clamp my hand over her mouth and growl into her ear. “Fine, you’re right. Now would you shut the hell up?”

Squealing even louder, Jenna bounces up and down, clapping her hands excitedly. “Yaaay! I’m gonna have a sisterrr!”

“Jenna, shhh,” I hiss. But I can’t really get mad at her. I feel a lot like that on the inside. Just more nervous. And, truth be told, I’m not nearly as nervous about Mr. Holt saying no as I am about Laney saying no. Although she’s opened up and loosened up a ton since we met, her still waters run very deep. She’s never said she has any reservations about me or us, but that doesn’t mean she isn’t harboring any. And there’s no time like a proposal to make you start considering all things, weighing all things. Seeing things from all angles. Seeing all the rough edges.

For me, the thought of spending the rest of my life with Laney makes me happy. Happier than I’ve ever been. She’s what I want out of life. And I’m more certain of it with every passing day. With time, rather than finding things I don’t like or things that drive me crazy, I think I love her more. And the more I find out about her, the more I find to love.

I hear Einstein barking and my pulse speeds up. Jenna looks at me with wide eyes and whispers, “He’s here.”

I’m sure it is Mr. Holt. I purposely told him and his wife a slightly earlier time than anyone else. I knew I’d want to get it over with rather than worrying about it the whole time.

I take a deep breath and look at my beaming sister. “Wish me luck.”

Her eyes start to water when she responds. “You won’t need it. I’ve always believed you deserved all the happiness in the world, even when you didn’t.”

I pause on my way to the door, looking back at my sister. “Jenna, I . . .” I don’t even know what to say to her, how to explain what I’m feeling. “I love you.”

In all our years together, I’ve never told her that. I hope that she realizes the significance, even if she doesn’t fully understand it. I want her to know that she means a lot to me, whether I’ve ever shown it or not.

“I know,” she breathes, shakily. “I’m just glad you let go of whatever it was that’s been holding you back all these years. I won’t pretend to get it, but I’m glad you’re not hiding from it anymore. You deserve better than that.”

Impulsively, I walk back to her and kiss her cheek. “Now don’t say anything to embarrass me, and for the love of all that’s holy, watch your trashy mouth.”

Jenna sniffs loudly and tosses her hair over her shoulder. “I stop cussing for no one.” I give her my sternest look. She sighs and smiles sweetly. “Except for you. Just this once.”

“Better. Now, go make yourself scarce. I’ve got some charming to do.”

She probably doesn’t think I hear her whisper as I leave the room, but I do.

“Go get ’em, Jake.”

So I do.

THIRTY-NINE: Laney

My pocket feels heavy. I feel lopsided, like everything in me is leaning. Leaning and holding its breath.

I’ve never been more nervous. Yet I’ve never been more certain.

Over the last couple of months, Jake and I have talked about all sorts of things—our hopes and dreams, our fears and trials, our plans and timetables. Hearing him say that he wants the same things I want, one by one, has been the most amazing unfolding of my life. It’s like the dreams I’ve had since I was little were right on target, they were just missing one vital ingredient—the perfect man to tweak them just a tad.

Yes, I still want to get married. Yes, I still want to have a family. Yes, I still want a place to put down roots and call home. Yes, I still want a love that will grow better as we grow older. I still want all those things. But now, they have a face. All of them. They all revolve around Jake.

He took them and made them ours, not just mine. And he brought his own special brand of wild to them. Never have I wanted to travel and experience new things in life, but now I do. I want to take off to parts unknown and go cliff diving with Jake at my side. I want to parasail in warm Mediterranean waters and hang glide over rain forest treetops. I want to do it all. And then I want to come back home to the life we’ve built and sit in front of the fireplace on cold winter nights, and skinny-dip in the river on warm summer ones.

All my life was ever missing was Jake.

It all starts and ends with him.

I just hope that he feels the same way about me.

I’m always hoping . . .

FORTY: Jake

I usher the Holts into my backyard. Jenna appears within seconds, wearing a huge smile. Mentally, I roll my eyes. She’s a shitty secret keeper!

“Can I get you two some lemonade?”

“That would be lovely,” Mrs. Holt says. Mr. Holt nods.

“This is my sister, Jenna. Jenna, Mr. and Mrs. Holt, Laney’s parents.”

“It’s a pleasure,” she says brightly, then disappears back inside to get the lemonade.

“Beautiful place you’ve got here. You’ve done a good job keeping it up after Cris passed,” Mr. Holt says. I’m sure, for someone like me, that’s his highest compliment.

“Thank you, sir. Would you like to walk the front of the orchard? It’s just right along the fence that circles the house.”

I can almost feel his sigh. “Sure.”

So enthused.

I tell him things he probably already knows as we walk from the backyard to the split-rail fence that borders the east portion of the orchard. When we stop there, I start to roll right into talk about the orchard operation, just to have something to say, but I stop myself. My patience was thin to begin with. This isn’t helping. So I just go for it.