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I quirk a brow and grin. “Well, that was . . . unexpected.”

“Sometimes I just want to hit someone with a brick attached to a rake.” She bristles.

I laugh. “If you and Dale got into a fist fight, my money would be on you,” I say. “That was . . . something.”

She turns to me. “I hate bullies.”

I watch her, waiting until her eyes are on me. “I thought you were still mad at me.”

“I am still mad at you.” She crosses her arms over her chest. “But that doesn’t mean it’s okay for guys like Dale McCauley to take cheap shots.”

“You know I can handle myself, right?” I say.

She sticks her hands on her hips and stares at me. “I think you meant to say ‘thank you.’”

“Yep, that’s what I meant.” I watch her, still wondering why the change of heart, but then I remember how fiercely loyal Hattie is to her people. I guess I just didn’t think that still included me. Something inside me twists at the realization that maybe it does.

And all of a sudden, being back here and facing my past doesn’t feel quite as foolish.

I look at her. “Thank you.”

“That’s better.”

“But seriously, why would you do that for me?”

“You did it for me a long time ago.” She shrugs. “’Bout time I paid you back.” She pushes a hand through her hair, fixing her sunglasses.

It does things to me.

She blows out a breath and stares off into the crowd. “Maybe it’ll make them see how stupid it is to hold a grudge for over a decade.”

I watch her for as long as I can before breaking into a smile.

She meets my eyes. “Oh, right. You think I’m a hypocrite.”

My hands go up in front of me. “I didn’t say a word.”

“I know I’m being stubborn about—” she looks away— “everything that happened, but that’s different. You and I were actually friends. These people didn’t even know you.”

“So . . . you can be mad at me, but they can’t.”

“Exactly.”

I don’t say anything, just watch her for a few seconds. She’s as defiant as she was back in high school every time she had a point to prove.

It’s refreshing.

She’s a truth teller, and it’s been a really long time since I’ve had one of those in my life.

I’ve missed it.

I’ve missed her.

I adjust the hat on my head, pulling it a little lower, and take a step toward her. “Well, when you get close to forgiving me, can you give me a heads up?”

“You planning a celebration?” she quips.

“With balloons,” I say.