38. Chapter 38

The crisp air clears my head, and the miles of swaying wheat soothe me. There's so much toxicity in the world clogging my brain.

I can't allow what people say affect my life. It will chip away my mental health.

I texted my parents that I'm safe and turned my phone off. Shutting out the world is the best thing for my mind. Poisonous words won't reach me and there is zero benefit from knowing what they write about me. My dead phone is sitting in a desk drawer, waiting for the day I decide to rejoin society. But that day isn't coming soon.

What I'm doing on the farm matters: growing wheat for food, providing wool, and milking goats for cheese. I'm feeding people and donating the profits that aren't reinvested in the farm to charity. The impact won't change the world, but I'll help as many people in this town as possible. Alec taught me to do that.

I never understood my grandparents' connection to this land until now. I've traveled the world, but the dirt under my feet is home. Throwing myself into farming, I'm working from sunup to past sundown. Muscles ache in places I didn't know existed on my body with the constant motion.

I don't have time to wonder what Alec's doing. I don't have time to regret making him a representation of my heart. Those things don't enter my consciousness.

But I dream.

In my dreams, my mind creates an entirely different life. A life full of laughter and love.

Full of Alec.

Every day it hurts more to wake up to my new reality. I've spent a lifetime wishing for solitude away from fame. Fame is the double-edged sword, giving me privilege and money but taking away my freedom. I'm happier away from fame, but I miss the nonstop talking of a very loud, very obnoxious American.

After dreaming of Alec, I wake up and start the day to forget.

Forget how much it hurts to be alone.

I'm driving the sheep to the far meadow to graze. They're unafraid of my ATV since they've been around it all their lives and know I won"t run them over. I'm more aggressive and roll the vehicle until it touches the hindquarters of a couple of stragglers. That spooks them and the herd moves.

The sun is low on the horizon, and I guess it's past dinnertime. I don't wear a watch and haven't been eating regular meals, so time's irrelevant. My two-way radio squawks with Hans's voice. "What's your location?"

"Almost have the sheep settled in the far meadow."

"You have a visitor who insists on seeing you."

"Tell them I'm not available." I wonder if it's my mother who figured out where I am. "And apologize for the wasted trip."

"He says his name is Alec."

"Repeat, please." My hands shake, and it's hard to hold down the button to talk.

"Viking, it's me," says the voice over the radio and in my shock, I let go of the throttle and the ATV stops. Alec is here and I can't remember how to work the radio or the pedals on the ATV. The sheep are bleating around me as I sit frozen.

I stop my stupid heart from leaping out of my chest, jumping to a conclusion, and running to Alec. He was very clear our future and his feelings for me don't exist. His guilt over the fallout from the viral meme has driven him across the ocean. But I can't take responsibility for absolving it.

"Hans, don't let him in the house. I'll meet him in the barn once I finish with the sheep." I don't wait for a reply. Hans will take care of it.

My mind races through scenarios and what I will say to him. None of it matters. I thought Alec and I had a relationship that could withstand long distance and was worth fighting for. I thought it was real. I was wrong.

There is no sense in rushing the sheep. I'm not in a hurry to face the end of my time with Alec. Whatever the reason he's here, it's for an ending. Dread settles into my bones; my movements are jerky and uncoordinated. But I get the sheep in the meadow and drive back toward the barn.

I don't want to taint my good memories of my grandparents' house with Alec. He cannot take up space in the farmhouse because he'll lay claim to it. I'll forever look at where he stood and sat, what he touched, and rewrite over my happy family memories.

The sun has been replaced by the moon and stars. By the time I reach the barn, I'm sick with anticipation. Alec is inspecting equipment with an interested expression; his face lights up when he hears me drive in, but it falls once he sees me. Another stab to the heart, so I focus on Hans, who is sitting with his arms crossed, glaring at Alec.

Hans stands as I park the ATV. "He never shuts up, even when I pretended not to know English," he says in Swedish.

"You didn't have to stay, thank you." I clap him on the shoulder. "Go home."

Hans nods, exits the barn, and I reluctantly face a silent Alec.

We stare at each other and my eyes can't get enough of him. He's travel rumpled with wrinkled clothes, messy hair, and dark circles under his eyes. My body fights with my mind to rush to him, force myself on him, and beg him to remember how our bodies feel together. But I remain twenty feet away, knowing force is the last thing Alec would respond to.

"Hey," Alec says mournfully.

I wait for him to say more and when he doesn't, I ask, "Why are you here?"

"I'm so sorry." Alec looks wretched, and I know he means it.

"Okay." I'm not exactly sure what he's sorry for, but clarification isn't necessary. He needs to say he's sorry to move on and go home.

"That's it?" Alec's eyes flicker with an emotion I can't name. "You're going to forgive me that easily?"

It would be easier if I could hate him. "You had no way of knowing that video of me would go viral. It's not your fault the way I reacted."

Alec turns pale. "I didn't realize—"

"I know," I cut him off. "You didn't need to come here. How did you find me?"

"Shane." Alec uncomfortably rocks back and forth on his heels.

"I guess he truly is a genius." I don't understand Alec's flush, making him look guiltier than before.

"I had to come and see you. I made so many mistakes, and I hate the way we left things."

"The way you left things." My voice isn't calm. It has a biting, accusatory tone.

Alec nods and shoves his hands in his coat pockets. His mouth opens and closes a couple of times.

If he won't say something, I'm going to tell him how I feel and ask him to leave.

"It broke me to know you discarded the sculpture I left for you. I created it to tell you I loved you," I say and Alec draws in a sharp breath. "I poured everything I am and all my feelings for you into it. It was a risk to tell you I loved you, but I couldn't hold it in any longer.

"I meant it as a private celebration of us. But not only did you not want it, you rejected it and made it public. You were willing to sell my love to you to the highest bidder, like it meant nothing to you."

His crushed expression mirrors my heart. "I can accept your apology for my reaction going viral. You can go home with a clear conscience." I take a deep breath and prepare to watch Alec walk away forever.

All the things I plan to say to Von vacate my brain the second I lay eyes on him. I foolishly thought that if I could apologize in person, Von would forgive me and we could pick up where we left off. One look at him, and I know that won't happen.

I let him talk and give him the chance to tell me his feelings first. When he says he loves me, my heart soars with hope, but he uses the word in the past tense.

I don't deserve a second chance with him unless he wants to give it to me. I inflicted heartbreak on both of us.

I never in my wildest dreams thought Von could love me so much that I would break his heart. No one has loved me the way he does. Or did.

The need to protect myself drove me to hurt him and miss all the signs that he loves me. My fear of rejection from my past overwhelmed me and I ruined our love.

Von's name is still on my Google Alerts, which pings several times a day. Some of the articles translated Von and Lars speaking Swedish. Some translated the last thing he said before he was cut off as, ‘he gave away my,' and speculated on what he meant. But a Swedish source translated it as, ‘he gave me away.'

Standing in front of him, I'm certain that the last translation is correct. Von thinks I gave him and our love away.

It's the worst fucking time to admit that I love him. I've been denying it and ignoring what that means. I knew I'd totally fail at first love. Any love.

I have to put the past behind me.

I love Von Blixt.

And nothing will change that. I can only hope he feels the same. I'll have to prove to him I mean what I say.

"Von, I want—"

"Alec, I can't do this. I'm sorry."

The man I love walks away and I have no one to blame but myself.

Hans appears and motions for me to follow him. I assume he's going to escort me off the property and am confused when we walk in the opposite direction of my rental car. We round the barn and he unlocks a converted garage. Hans sweeps his hand for me to enter, but I can't cross the threshold.

I recognize the space from the video of Von that I've watched a million times. It's destroyed. The table has been smashed into a pile of rubble with a shattered computer on top. The wall hooks hang empty, and he used a blowtorch to mangle and melt the tools. There are scorch marks on the wall.

I don't ask Hans who did this, because I know.

"It didn't take him long to do this," Hans says in perfect English. I knew he understood me, but now I can understand why he didn't want to talk to me.

"But he won't be able to create art." I cannot be responsible for Von giving up his passion.

Hans shrugs. Bringing me here is the equivalent to a neon sign flashing, ‘this is what you did, Alec.'

There's no way I'm leaving before I know Von's life is back on track. Whatever track he wants—farmer, artist, recluse—whatever path he takes, I'm going to help him.

"I thought I was helping the world see his talent," I explain and hate myself even more. Von has fame and fortune but actively tried to retreat from it, and I single-handedly made his worst moment a global sensation.

Von's fame existed in the sports world and a few European gossip sites. But my betrayal has made his face recognizable from a meme by millions of people.

I curse myself for thinking that selling the sculpture was a good idea. If I'd created a tattoo design for him to wear and he sold it to another tattoo artist, it would kill me. And if everyone on the internet speculated the original meaning and my love for him, I wouldn't leave my apartment. But I'd have Cole, Shane, and Madyson.

Von has Hans an old crotchety farmhand, Lars who can't get in touch with him, and a mother who sounds happy with my mistakes if the gossip sites aren't lying.

I'm surprised Von spoke to me.

"Hans, you have to help me."

He snorts and shakes his head.

"Not for me. For Von," I beg.