Page 85 of Small Town Boy

NOEL

Fuck, is she beautiful.

Two steps out the door and I freeze—overcome by the sight before me. Scrunched up against the car door, Bronwyn’s face is buried in her hands, her cute little backside almost resting on her heels. My heart squeezes, my entire body aching to make whatever it is she’s feeling disappear. To be able to kiss it and make it better, like Mama did with owies when we were kids.

I slowly make my way down the front stoop, each step slow and deliberate. Last thing I need to do is startle her. She’s chided me plenty about how she doesn’t need rescuing, and I don’t want this to be another one of those moments. Even if I’m not sure what I’d be rescuing her from. Me? My family? Something else? All of the above?

What I do want is to show her that I’m here for her. To help take away whatever pain she’s in. To know what about Mama’s comment upset her.

Crouching down in front of her, I let my knee gently tap hers. She doesn’t move, not acknowledging my presence at all. Oh boy. Silence surrounds us, not even a sniffle or sigh for me to tell what her emotions may be.

I reach out, my hand cupping her shoulder, squeezing lightly. It’s an attempt at comfort, but something gnaws at me that I’m missing the mark.

“Hey there.”

Bronwyn looks up, eyes meeting mine, and my heart sinks. Puffy and wet, her honey irises stare back, cheeks stained with tears. It’s more than I can take. My insides tangle, warring with myself on whether to give her space or to haul her into me and hold her for the rest of time.

All it takes is one blink, the pain in her eyes as obvious as the moon in the night sky and the latter wins out. In one swift move, I wrap my arms around her, scooping her up by her ass and pushing to my feet. Tightening my embrace, I hold her as close as I can, silently trying to communicate with her. Her response is loud and clear as she wraps herself around me, much like she did the other night, only this time, instead of kissing me, her face is buried in the crook of my neck.

“I got you,” I whisper, rubbing my hand along her back.

Warm breath tickles my skin as she exhales slowly, holding on to me even more. I still have no idea what she’s thinking or feeling—but it’s intense. That much I know. It’s radiating off her in waves, like high tide coming in.

There’s so much I want to ask. So many things I want to do. But I give her space. I allow her the moment to be. More than anything, what I want is to be her safe space.

Bronwyn shifts in my arms, leaning back just enough so I can see her face. For a second, I consider kissing her, but I hold back.

“I’m sorry.”

Her voice is breathy, ragged, and heavy. Like those two words carry the weight of the world in them.

“I’m not sure you’re the one who needs to apologize.”

“I…I just…”

Something out of the corner of my eye catches my attention, my head whipping back to the house. There’s nothing—or no one—there, but I can see the almost imperceptible movement of a curtain, which tells me everything I need to know.

“How about a tractor ride?”

“A trac… what?”

The confusion taking over her face removes some of the sadness from her eyes, but the puffiness is still there. Still tugging at my heartstrings. I need to get her alone, to a place where we can talk.

“It’s what I do when I need a moment,” I tell her, walking toward the barn. “And right about now, I think we need a moment.”

Bronwyn closes her eyes and nods, her body relaxing. It shifts her weight, requiring me to reposition her as we walk. I can feel her unhook her ankles behind me, and I shake my head, silently telling her I will not be putting her down.

A few minutes later, we’re both up on the tractor, Bronwyn settled in my lap. It’s a tight fit—a tractor really isn’t made for two people—but I’m making it work. Even if I have to lean around her to see where we’re going. Keeping her close is too important.

The vibrations from the engine, paired with the bumps from the large tread tires over the rough earth, is usually more than enough to help start to calm me. To center me. It’s not for everyone, and for a second I wonder if Bronwyn will be one of them. Can’t imagine my city girl has had a lot of opportunities to pull out the industrial farm equipment for a recreational jaunt.

But then she relaxes. Tension releases from her, her hips and torso sinking into me as we drive. I can’t hear much over the engine, but based on the way she just moved, I’m pretty sure she let out all the air she’s been holding in her lungs for way too long.

That’s my girl.

Once we’re out far enough, so that the old farmhouse is a small glow on the horizon, I kill the engine. Darkness surrounds us, the bright moon our only light. It’s more than enough to see each other, though, as I spin Bronwyn in my lap so we’re face-to-face. Her eyes are still puffy, but her cheeks are dry, so I’m calling that a win. For now.

“Hey there, beautiful.”