Chapter Six

Julie's POV

It should have been the moment that defined everything—when he stepped onto the farm. Part of me wanted him from the start, even if I refused to admit it. He was life itself, like the sun—a warmth that could burn, yes, but one you crave even when you know it might hurt. The first two weeks were okay, just okay, and I hated how indifferent they felt. He’d wake early, saunter into the house for breakfast, then disappear into town for hours. Sometimes he’d be gone until dinner, when he’d stroll back with the swagger of a man who’d had a good time. He’d settle into that chair he claimed the very first day, next to Nana. Close enough to chat with her, but far enough from me that it drove me mad. Far enough that I couldn't breathe him in—that intoxicating scent that was all his own—but close enough that our knees would occasionally brush, just barely. And each time, it sent a wave of something through me, a kaleidoscope of questions spinning in my head. What did it mean when his knee touched mine for those seven slow seconds? Seven Mississippi seconds. It was long enough for me to start thinking, overthinking.

"It’ll rain heavy today," Nana’s voice cut through my thoughts. I blinked, realizing I had been staring at the barn again. 

I turned toward her and she gave me that knowing smile, the one that said she was well aware of my secret.

"I didn’t notice," I lied, my voice betraying me with its soft tremor.

Of course, I knew it was going to rain. I’d been hoping for it, praying for it. Nana has this tradition. Whenever it rains, she invites everyone inside, and we gather by the fire. But today, the farmhands had gone into town, excited to see Anna May, who had just returned from visiting family in New York. The boys would be busy chasing her all evening. And Adam... he didn’t go. I knew Adam well enough by now to understand that he hated parties. Not that he’d ever said it, but I could tell from the way he avoided them. It had been two weeks since he arrived, two weeks of him vanishing into town, but I knew he wasn’t really there. If he were, half the women in town would be clamoring for a glimpse of him, especially Rebecca Bailin, who usually had a knack for showing up the moment a handsome stranger arrived. No, Adam had been somewhere else all along. 

"I think we should invite our guest," Nana said, settling into her old rocking chair.

"Do you want me to go get him?" I asked, trying to keep my voice casual, my legs eager to spring into motion.

"Do you want to?" Her eyes twinkled with amusement.

I shrugged, pretending to be indifferent, though I could feel the way my heart leapt at the idea.

"I’ll go," I said, unable to keep the anticipation from creeping into my voice.

The sky was a bruised purple, heavy with the promise of rain. I could smell the storm in the air, thick and electric. It was about to pour, and I didn’t care if I got drenched—I just needed to see him. There was something about seeing Adam, the way his face lit up, even just a fraction, when he saw me. I told myself it didn’t mean anything, but I knew better.

I reached the barn and climbed the narrow stairs to the loft, my breath catching as I neared the open door. I hesitated at the threshold, taking in the sight of him. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, a book in his hand, its cover obscured from where I stood. But I wasn’t focused on the book. It was him. The way his brow furrowed in concentration, how the rest of the world seemed to fade away when he was reading. I knocked softly, clearing my throat just enough to catch his attention. His eyes lifted to meet mine, and for a moment, I felt myself melt under that gaze. 

Damn it, I thought. Notice me. Notice how much I want you. I crave you.

"How long have you been standing there?" he asked, adjusting to the shock of seeing me.

"Not long," I lied again, my voice soft. "Nana asked me to invite you to the house for the night."

"A sleepover?" His lips quirked into a smirk, one eyebrow raising with amused skepticism. It was that look—half teasing, half something more—that always made me want to kiss him. I wanted to bite that smirk right off his face, to taste him even if it ruined me.

"She wants you to stay the night," I explained, my words rushed as I tried to hide the ache in my voice. "There’s a storm coming. A bad one. She does this when we have guests... invites them to stay in the main house. It’s just a thing she does."

Adam’s eyes lingered on me, his expression unreadable, and for a long moment, neither of us spoke. Then, slowly, he stood up. He took his time, each movement deliberate, as if savoring the silence between us. He walked toward me, his steps slow, measured, until he was standing right in front of me. Close enough that I could feel the heat radiating from his body, smell that familiar scent that made my heart pound. His breath mixed with mine, and I felt dizzy from the nearness of him. I could see every curl in his hair, every fleck of light in those impossibly beautiful eyes. 

And then, finally, he spoke.

"Well then," he said, his voice a low murmur, "lead the way, Starlight."

I could barely breathe as I turned, leading him out of the barn and back toward the house. The wind had picked up, and I could feel the first drops of rain against my skin, but I didn’t care. All I could think about was him walking beside me, so close, yet so far.

Inside, Nana had already prepared the fire, the flames flickering and casting soft shadows across the room. Adam hesitated for a moment at the door, glancing around as if unsure where to go.

"Here," I said, gesturing to the chair opposite Nana, the one that had become his spot. He sat down, stretching his long legs out in front of him, and for a moment, the room was filled with nothing but the crackle of the fire and the soft patter of rain against the windows.

I sat down too, trying not to stare at him, trying not to let Nana see the way my hands shook in my lap. But I knew she noticed. She always noticed.

"It’s going to be a long storm," Nana said, her voice calm, almost mischievous.

Adam’s eyes flickered toward me, and there was something in his gaze—something unspoken, but heavy. I could feel it like the pressure in the air before the rain breaks.

"Guess we’ll be here a while," he said softly, his voice dipping low, almost intimate.

I looked away, my heart racing. It felt like the beginning of something, something that had been building for weeks, maybe longer. I wasn’t sure if I was ready for it, but I knew there was no going back now. The storm had arrived, and with it, a new kind of tension. A kind that had nothing to do with the rain.