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“You know what, I’m going to . . .” he hitches a thumb over his shoulder. “I think Quent said something about clearing out the barn today, so I’ll maybe just . . ..”

“Right, yeah. They’re cleaning it up for the reception.” I shift, hating every second of this. It feels like I’m stabbing him in the back. “I’m sure they’d appreciate the help.”

He nods. “Okay, well, I guess I’ll, um, see you later then?”

“Yeah, I’ll be around, for sure.” I hold up the mug. “Thanks for this.”

He holds his own mug up, then goes back to staring at the water.

And I almost stay, the words “never mind!” right on the tip of my tongue.

But no. I can’t. It’s not worth the risk.

I turn to go, and when I glance back over my shoulder and find him watching me, my heart cries out— “But what if it is?”

Chapter Fourteen

Noble

Yep. It’s official.

She’s avoiding me.

It’s not a “sense” so much as a very clear message. And I’ve decided my best play is to stay out of her way.

Monday, Hattie had a FaceTime call with Finn and Raya that had her out on the grounds, showing them spaces, discussing logistics. After that, she and Rowe went to town to meet with the florist and the caterer, and while she was away, I went down to the sunken forest to help Quent get the ceremony site prepped, then spent some time working with Briggs at the main house on a few other projects.

Tuesday morning, I made coffee while she was out on the lake, but left before she got back. I drove into town with Boone and West to do a tour of the community center Finn started in Hunter’s name. It was incredible and a little humbling that he’d turned his grief into something good.

And I wondered if it’s too late for me to do the same.

Before we left, I pulled up the website and made a donation—one that I hoped will go a long way in helping the people of this community. On the way back to the ranch, West and Boone told me the community center pulls in kids from all over the area, and their entire family take turns volunteering.

“We stock shelves and serve meals. Hattie and Hudson tutor the kids, or we just hang out with them, playing video games and pick-up basketball,” Boone said. “A lot of them just need someone to talk to.”

“Most of them don’t have that,” West said.

I would’ve been one of those kids.

My mind wandered back to long, lonely days waiting for my mom to come home after school. I’d eat soup from a can with crackers or stale bread and usually go to sleep without ever seeing her.

I didn’t know it could be any different until I got here.

“We always need more help if you’re ever in town,” West said as he made the turn onto the highway.

“Pretty sure I’m the last guy that should be mentoring kids,” I said.

“You don’t have to be perfect,” West said. “You just have to show up.”

“Showing up goes a long way.” Boone flipped on the radio and started singing along to a Chris Stapleton song, while I stared out the window chewing on the words.

You don’t have to be perfect. You just have to show up.

I think about Hattie. I understood better than most people how important showing up really was, and I’d done the exact opposite for her.

No wonder she’s still ticked.

When we get back, I take the four-wheeler over to the stables where I find Briggs working with a skittish horse in the corral out back. I park and watch as he guides it around the pen in a circle, his low, deep voice and gentle hand guiding the horse carefully without too much force.