Page 124

“Do you have questions?” he asks. “About what Nell said?”

“Is it true?”

“No,” he says.

“Then I don’t have questions.” I look at him, determined to take him at his word.

“Thank you,” he says. “I don’t want to have secrets, Hattie. But I didn’t like the things she was saying. I didn’t want her putting ideas in your head. That’s the only reason I asked you to leave.”

I nod. “Did you set her straight?”

He smirks. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Good.”

We’re still again, both of us staring out over the water, and me knowing that there are things about the past that he needs to understand if we have any chance of making this relationship work.

But that doesn’t make it any easier to begin.

Finally, I rip off the Band-Aid. “I thought I could leave the past in the past, you know? Move on with a clean slate, like my brothers and my parents did.” I pull my leg up under me and study his face.

“Things were simpler with your brothers,” he says. “We had a different kind of friendship. I mean, I’m close with all of them, but we talk about horses and fishing and rodeo. We don’t talk about feelings.” He laughs softly. “Guys don’t do that.”

“Yeah, you don’t,” I agree.

“I meant it when I said you were my best friend. And I don’t blame you for being mad.”

“I was so mad,” I say. “I wanted to stay mad because I knew if I didn’t—” I shake my head.

“If you didn’t . . .?”

I search his eyes. They’re unwavering and trained on me, and I know they’re the eyes of an honest person. A flawed, messy, kind, thoughtful, honest person.

I look away because I don’t think I can keep looking at him and say the things I need to say.

“The day you left,” I say. “You were supposed to meet me⁠—”

“In the sunken forest,” he says. “I remember.”

“It was kind of a big deal because I had this big plan to tell you the truth about my feelings,” I say. “Do you know how hard it was to work up the courage to do that?” I shake my head. “I actually thought if you knew how much I loved you, it’d be enough to convince you to stop self-destructing.” I half-laugh. “Stupid, right?” I glance over and find his eyes.

“Not stupid,” he says, shaking his head. “But I don’t think even you could’ve reached me back then. I was, uh . . . pretty messed up.”

I force myself to go on, a little embarrassed. “I waited for you. For hours. I really thought you were going to come, but you never did. I’d built up in my head that I would tell you how I felt, you’d stop being an idiot, you’d come back home, and we’d . . .” I let out a resigned laugh. “We’d fall in love and live happily ever after.”

His smile is sad. “Pretty sure I would’ve continued being an idiot anyway.”

“I didn’t get it. At the very least, we were friends,” I say. “You wouldn’t just not show.”

He presses his lips together, but he doesn’t argue. Doesn’t respond. Maybe he senses that I need to go on, even though I really don’t want to.

“So, then I started to think maybe something happened to you. I got worried—because of Hunter and everything. I immediately thought the worst. It’s not like you were being careful back then.”

I go quiet for a beat, remembering, the feelings as fresh as they were that day. “I got really frantic. Panicked, you know? And I ran back to the house, and found my dad, and I was really worked up, but I finally told him something was wrong. We were supposed to meet, and you didn’t show, and something must’ve happened.”

The stupid knot is back in my stupid throat, and all the swallowing in the world can’t make it go away.

“Hattie, I⁠—”