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She glances over. “You sure?”

“Positive.” I don’t want to talk to Nell, but even if I did, I wouldn’t do it in front of Hattie.

We turn onto the street that leads into downtown Silverwood. It’s Saturday morning, and even though it’s the end of the fall season, it’s still buzzing with activity.

The street is divided by a landscaped median, trees and flowers down the middle and shops on each side. Hattie drives slowly, looking for a spot, waving at people on the street as she pulls the Bronco to a stop in front of the pavilion where the Silverwood Farmers’ Market is set up. I stare into the space, dreading going out into that crowd when Hattie turns off the engine and looks at me.

“What’s wrong?” She unbuckles her seatbelt, so I do the same.

“It’s a lot of people,” I say.

She frowns. “Is that a problem?”

“It’s a lot of people who probably won’t be happy I’m back here.” I get that the blowback is warranted, but it doesn’t mean I want to dive in headfirst. Being here feels like an error in judgment, but I know I can’t change their minds about me if I hide.

The worry line across her forehead deepens. “This really bothers you,” she says, like she’s only just now realizing it.

I don’t move. “I mean, I screwed up—like a lot, and like, bad—so I get it, but . . .”

I shake my head. This is harder than I thought. I figured it’d be a few difficult conversations, one on one, not whole groups of people at a time. Anything I do out there is going to feel fake.

I look at her. “Maybe tell me what to do since you share their opinion.”

“I don’t—” but then she stops. She does. We both know it. She said as much last night when she was talking to her mom in the kitchen before she knew I could hear her. She reaches up and scratches the bridge of her nose, pressing her lips together like she’s sorting something out.

I adjust the hat on my head and blow out a breath.

I hate this.

This town and these people took me in when no one else wanted me, and I spit in their faces. So, here’s my punishment. My penance.

“I knew when I came back that this sort of chilly welcome was a possibility, but I guess I let myself hope that I’d stayed away long enough that they’d all forgotten.” I stare out the window. “Stupid, right?”

“Small towns don’t forget things.” She watches me for what feels like an hour, and I eventually crack under the weight of it.

“It’s fine. It’s stupid. I’m a grown-up. I ride bulls for a living. Let’s get going.” I open the door and get out, fixing my hat lower on my head.

Hattie pauses, like she has more to say, but she must think better of it because she gets out of the car and looks at me through the open door. “Is that your disguise?”

“It’s just a hat,” I say, as if I can pretend I’m not trying to go incognito.

She rolls her eyes and reaches into the backseat, pulls out a baseball cap and tosses it at me. “Try that. You’re not fooling anyone if you walk around here looking like a bull rider.”

I trade out the hats and close the door. There are plenty of places in the world where nobody knows my name. Silverwood is not one of them, and for reasons that have nothing to do with how long I can stay on a bull.

I wish I had sunglasses. And a full suit of armor.

She meets me around the front of the car and slings a small bag crossways over her chest. She’s carrying two empty totes, and her sunglasses are pushed up on the top of her head in a careless, messy way.

She’s gorgeous without trying. Fatal combination.

“I gotta admit, Noble, I didn’t think these people’s opinions mattered to you,” she says, straightening her bag.

“Yeah, well, I don’t know anyone who likes to be hated,” I say with a shrug.

She squints at me like she’s turning thoughts over in her mind.

“What?” I say. “Just say it.”