“And yet, I found you sitting on rock, playing your guitar,” she says, smiling up at me. “Not at your most careful that day.”
Grunting a laugh, I capture her hand again. “I’ve thought about that a lot since we met. You weren’t the first or the last human to enter the area while I was there, but you were the only one who caught me off guard. Ever.”
“I guess that makes me the stealthiest human in Harmony Glen.”
“Not even if you tried,” I say as we reach the exterior door. “But it makes you the most important person I’ve ever met. I knew it then and every single day afterward, Cate, including all the ones while I was gone. Including the days since I came back to town.”
Outside, sunlight wraps around her, radiating from her golden hair like an aura.
Hands still entwined as we walk along Settler Ave, she turns her head and meets my eyes. “It was the same for me. Itisthe same for me.”
Turning the corner onto Pleasant Street, silence hangs between us. Not awkward, but heavy. Silence filled with things we’re not saying out loud. I told her I’d wait until she was ready to hear what I need to say, but if she won’t start the conversation, I will.
“Why didn’t you answer any of my messages after I left? The calls, texts, emails. Daily, for months. Then less frequently, but I kept sending them, Cate. For years.”
“I know.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“I know that, too.”
I shake my head when she tries getting free of my hand. “Not letting you pull away that easily this time. If you want me to let go—to letyougo—you’re going to have to say it to my face. Is that what you want?”
“No.”
“But it’s what you wanted back then. Six years ago.”
“No,” she says softly, shaking her head. “Not then either.”
“Could’ve fooled me. Hell, you did fool me.” I wait a beat, but she doesn’t jump in. Doesn’t offer a single word. “When you told me you’d decided not to leave with me, I thought that meant we’d do long distance while I took my shot in the music industry. I told you I love you. You said it back. I thought it was a temporary goodbye, not the end of our relationship.”
Again, she tries freeing her hand, and again, I hold firm.
“When I finally accepted that you were done with us, I tried not to think about you. To convince myself that what I felt for you wasn’t love meant to last a lifetime. Just a moment in time, nothing more. But it was always more to me.”
“It was more to me, too.”
The next block takes us deeper into the downtown. More people to share the sidewalk with. Less privacy. When we reach The Corner Bar and she looks up at me, I expect her to take the opportunity to retreat and avoid more of this conversation she clearly doesn’t want to have.
“Come up,” she says instead. “Let’s finish this.” The way she says it sounds like she means something more than this conversation.
Chapter Eleven
CATE
When Ogram addressed Grüsh outside the hospital room, I was sure Grüsh had overheard my conversation with Hope. I knew he wouldn’t react in front of them, but I expected something once we were alone. Even if that something was simply him walking away without saying a word.
Holding my hand and refusing to let it go, telling me that he hasn’t stopped loving me, and how I hurt him by cutting him out of my life…I didn’t expect any of that.
Maybe he didn’t hear Hope’s question or my answer, my secret, and his questions about the past are just the culmination of old wounds, rekindled chemistry, and opportunity for closure. It’d be good for both of us. Especially if he truly intends to be around his family on any sort of regular basis, because they’re my family too. Not by blood, but that doesn’t make it any less real or important. Our futures are connected now. Just not the way I wanted.
His heavy footsteps on the staircase echo in the quiet building. He hasn’t touched me since releasing my hand so I could unlock the door, but he’s so close behind me that hiswarmth and masculine, leathery scent wrap around me like an embrace. He maintains the closeness while following me down the hall to my apartment.
Inside, he takes a few steps, looking around at the main living room and kitchen area with its industrial high ceiling, big windows full of plants, and original wood wide-plank floor. All the same as the last time he was in here. Even the furniture is the same.
I’ve never been able to let go of things I love.
“Want to sit? Stand? Have something to drink?” I’m already moving toward the refrigerator as the questions bubble out. I shouldn’t be nervous in my own home. Or with him. “I’m having wine, but I’m going to put it in a juice glass because I’m not generally a day-drinker, and I don’t want any judgment.”
