Lemon knocks into her shoulder. “Don’t.”
“Don't what?” Fig tosses back.
Abby shakes her head. “Nothing. It's just…”
Annie sits down on the bed. “Rye hasn’t been himself this last year. He's been really unhappy.”
“Which makes us wonder,” Lemon says, looking at me, “ifhe'sready for something so serious. You’ve been through so much. Can he take care of you? All things considered.”
My eyes widen at this, not expecting her involvement in the relationship I've begun with her brother.
But, of course they're all invested. This family is close-knit. They know everything about one another. They sent Rye to the woods to clear his head—they're deeply involved.
“Lemon,” Annie says. “That's too much. Let Prairie collect herself. All right? Can you girls let us talk for a moment alone?”
Fig, Lemon, and Abby leave with Plum, who was distracted by trying on Fig’s glittering necklaces.
Alone, Annie turns to me.
“I love Rye,” I tell her, exhaling. “I can't help it. But I don’t want to have to prove myself or prove how much I care for your son. I can’t change how I feel.”
Annie reaches for my hand. “Love is like that, Prairie. It's hard to understand.
You love who you love, and you can't really choose. The important thing is that you understand yourself; that you know what you want.”
I begin to cry, appreciating the chance to speak my truth. “I know what I want,” I tell her.
“I’m not sure Rye does,” she says softly.
Just then, Rye steps into the room. “Are you kidding me with this?”
11
RYE
I hada bad feeling about the girls all going upstairs with Prairie. This whole night was probably a terrible idea. Bringing her to Sunday dinner after everything she's been through is a lot all at once.
She spent years living with two people who kept her locked up. And then for the last week it was just her and me, living in our cocoon.
And then all this. It's a lot of people, a lot of energy. I don't want her light to go out. I don't want her to get swallowed up whole by Fig and Lemon—I know how they can be. Plus, with Abby and my mom all in the same room? Well, that's a lot of women.
The last thing I want is for Prairie to end up in a puddle of tears. And as I climb those stairs to Fig’s bedroom, passing half the Rough women as I go, I know something's not right.
The girls won't tell me what happened, though. My sisters give me looks that tell me there is trouble brewing, and my chest is tight, constricting as I climb the stairs, wanting to get to Prairie, wanting to be sure she is okay.
At the top of the stairs, when I reach Fig’s bedroom door, I see Mom on the bed with Prairie, who’s crying just like I expected.
I walk into the room.
“What are you saying to her?” I ask Mom. “What did you say to make her upset? It’s the last thing she needs right now.”
“It's okay, Rye,” Prairie says, reaching for my hand. “You don't need to get angry.”
“Like hell I don’t. I don't want anybody upsetting you.”
“Nobody is upsetting her. We're just talking, Rye,” Mom says, standing. “I can have a conversation with Prairie without you barging in here, thinking you're going to save the day.”
I clench my jaw. Squeeze Prairie's hand. Tight. “I think it's time for us to go.”