There’s a gentle sadness in his voice when he says, “I think he loves you, too.”
The quiet settles between us again, our words lingering in the still air.
A weight lifts off my shoulders, only to be replaced by the cruel truth that Wesley doesn’t love me too. He never said it back. But that wasn’t part of the deal. I’m the one who broke the rules.
Emmett bumps his shoulder into mine before standing and brushing off his jeans. He pauses in the breezeway before finally asking, “Can you make me a promise?”
“Potentially.”
His mouth lifts into a small grin. “Don’t leave without saying goodbye.”
A boulder forms in my throat. I manage a small nod before he tips his head and walks out.
I feel split clean down the center. Half of me can’t fathom leaving this quiet mountain town, this ranch, these people. But the other half of me knows I wouldn’t survive it if I stayed.
Because my heart has a Wesley-shaped hole in it that will never properly heal.
Thesundrapesthemountains in gold as I drag my boots across the gravel, soaking in my last sunset on the ranch.
I’m not ready for it to end, so I keep stopping along the fence line to pick a few wildflowers—tiny souvenirs I plan to press and keep.
Iris trots beside me, the tips of her puppy ears bouncing with every step, blissfully unaware this is our last walk from the barn to the main house. I’m going to miss her so much. Maybe Emmett will send me pictures of her after I leave.
“Are those for me?”
I glance up to see Lydia sitting in one of the rocking chairs, an unopened bottle of tequila resting in her lap. My gaze drops to the handful of flowers, then back to her.
“They’re yours if you want them,” I say, holding them out.
Something in her expression flickers before she quickly blinks it away. “You didn’t have to get me flowers to apologize. I’m the one who should be choking on a big fat slice of humble pie.”
A smile tugs at my mouth despite everything. God, I’ve missed her.
“Iamsorry though,” I say softly.
“I’m sorry too. I’m sorry it took me so long to come to my senses. I should’ve let you explain, but I was too mad about my own shit to see reason.” She shrugs.
“I should’ve tried harder.”
“Nothing we can do about the should’ves and could’ves. It’s your last night, and I think it should end on a high note.” She lifts the bottle, grinning.
I’m definitely going to regret this on my flight tomorrow, but that is a problem for future Sadie.
Ipromisedmyselfafterthat night with Emmett that I was done using alcohol to numb my pain. But the tequila warms my veins. I’m giggling with my best friend and lying on the floor, snuggling with a puppy. For the first time in weeks, it feels like maybe—just maybe—I’ll be okay.
“I have a confession,” I blurt, Don Julio loosening my tongue.
Lydia sits cross-legged on my bed, my favorite quilt wrapped around her shoulders. “Speak, my child,” she says in a deep, solemn voice, holding her arms out like a prophet.
I laugh, climbing onto the bed beside her. “Wesley is the guy—wasthe guy? I don’t know. I can’t think clearly right now, but whatever—it was Wesley.”
She rolls her eyes. “That’s hardly a confession. I already knew that.”
My eyes widen. “What? How?”
“Well, I guess I didn’t know for sure,” she says, scrunching her nose. “But I had my suspicions. Especially when Wesley was extra moody—like,waymore than usual—and it was around the same time you were moping around here like a sad, lost puppy.”
I twist my lips to the side and pat the bed, encouraging Iris to jump up.
