Betty’s POV
The sunlight streams through the thin curtains, warming my face as I wake to the sound of birds chirping outside. It’s peaceful—too peaceful, almost—as if the world is holding its breath. I roll over, groaning slightly, but the buzzing of my phone on the nightstand pulls me from the haze of sleep.
I grab it, squinting at the screen. It’s a text from Brent.
Come by the farm today. We’ll keep it light. Promise.
I stare at the words, biting my lip. After everything that happened, I’m not sure if this is a good idea. Part of me wants to ignore it, to keep the distance between us and avoid the questions swirling in my head. But there’s another part—one that can’t seem to stay away from him. His message feels... simple. Easy.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I’m in my car, driving toward the farm.
By the time I arrive, the morning sun has climbed higher, bathing the fields in golden light. The familiar scent of freshly tilled soil and hay fills the air, and I find myself breathing a little easier. Brent steps out of the barn just as I park, carrying a basket of tools in one hand. His smile is soft, and for a moment, it almost feels like nothing has changed.
“Glad you came,” he says, his voice easy, as if he hadn’t been waiting for an answer. He nods toward the barn. “I thought we’d start with feeding the animals. Something light to ease into the day.”
I laugh nervously, brushing my hands against my jeans. “I think I can manage that.”
Inside the barn, the air is warm and smells like hay and animals. Brent hands me a scoop of feed, and I hesitate for a second before a curious goat nudges me. I can’t help but laugh as its nose pushes into my palm.
“See?” Brent says, grinning. “You’re already a favorite.”
I crouch down, petting the goat’s coarse fur, and glance up just in time to see Brent raise his phone.
“Don’t even think about it,” I warn.
“You’re a natural,” he teases, snapping the picture anyway. “Perfect shot.”
I roll my eyes, but I’m smiling despite myself.
The rest of the morning slips by easily. We plant herbs in neat little rows, our hands brushing the cool soil as Brent explains how to get the plants to thrive. We check the irrigation system, water spraying out in perfect arcs as he points out its quirks.
We talk as we work—about light things, shared memories of summers we spent together as kids. I find myself laughing more than I have in weeks. The tension I’ve been carrying, the weight of the city and Marcus, all of it seems distant out here.
It’s almost afternoon when Brent leads me up a grassy hill overlooking the farm. The view takes my breath away—the fields stretch out forever, glowing under the soft hues of gold and pink painted across the sky.
“This,” Brent says, sitting down beside me, “is why I stayed. There’s nothing like this in the city.”
I hug my knees to my chest, letting the quiet settle over me. I can’t argue with him. The peace here is unlike anything I’ve felt in a long time.
When he turns to me, there’s something in his expression—soft but steady, like he’s been waiting for this moment. He leans in, and for once, I don’t overthink it. I meet him halfway.
The kiss is slow, warm, familiar. It feels like something that had been paused, now set into motion again. I lean into him, letting myself fall into the moment.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, breaking the quiet. I pull back reluctantly, fumbling for it.
Marcus.
The sight of his name sends a ripple of unease through me, but I silence the call and slip the phone back into my pocket.
When I glance back at Brent, he’s watching me, a question in his eyes. I reach out, brushing my fingers against his hand, offering a small smile. For now, I decide, the rest of the world can wait.