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She flinches when I repeat her words and I know they’ve hit their mark.
She shakes her head. “I’ve had good offers, but I’m not ready to sell.”
“Maybe soon then. I’m sure the confines of Landmark will get to you before too long.”
Her hands run up and down her fitted blue jacket before she wraps her arms around her waist almost like a hug. Her eyes are wounded, and I want to yell at her, ask her what makes her think she has the right to act hurt withme? But she’s grieving and the exhaustion in her face, the sadness in her eyes, pulls at my empathy. As much as I hate it, I will always have a soft spot for this girl.
“Where did you go?” I ask.
She twists her fingers together like she does when she’s nervous. I get a sick thrill out of making her nervous, which is so unlike me it almost makes me ashamed of myself.
Almost.
“I ended up in a small town in Texas…on a horse ranch,” she says quietly.
I stare at her in disbelief. “That explains why you sound different.” I then turn and walk out of the stables. “Let me know if I need to come check on Chief again.”
I’m in my truck and shutting the door when I hear her say my name again, but I act like I don’t.
I feel sick.
It wasn’t the mundane horse ranch she grew up on that made her crave seeing what else was out there.
It was me she’d been trying to get away from.
Deep down I’ve always known it, but I guess I’ve placed at least some of the blame on Landmark and her not wanting to follow her dad’s passion for breeding horses.
But turns out she’s back in Landmark, and while I’ve heard around the rumor mill that she’s sold most of her dad’s horses, the stalls certainly weren’t empty. Her dad’s been gone for months, and I have no idea when Sofie got here. For all I know, she’s been back a couple of months and just hasn’t reached out until today.
I’m just surprised she reached out at all.
That sayingit’s not you, it’s mecouldn’t be more accurate.
It’s all me.
And since I’m the reason she left, maybe it won’t take much to make her leave again. Landmark isn’t big enough for the two of us.
That doesn’t stop me from going down memory lane. It’s been a long time since I’ve allowed myself to think about her like this, but after seeing her, the images come without warning, invading me with how vivid and real they feel.
The day I kissed her for the first time. We were twelve and it was Christmas afternoon. I’d gone out to our tree to see if she’d found the presents from me and she was there already, crying.
“What’s wrong?” I’d rushed to her, and she’d frozen, turning around to face the tree.
She waved her hand. “Nothing. Just me PMSing.”
She’d started saying that over the past year and it usually shut me down since I didn’t really know what that meant. It was the one thing we didn’t have in common. I’d been with her when she got her period the year before, saw her look of confusion and embarrassment when she realized what was happening. I’d tried to tell her it was no big deal, but she was mortified and since she didn’t ever let me see her get embarrassed about anything for long, she started touting it as a badge of honor.
Which I admired.
I admired everything about Sof.
She wiped her cheeks and smiled up at me. “I love the bracelet. It’s your best one ever.”
I smiled. “I spent a lot of time getting it right.”
It was an intricate friendship bracelet wider than I’d ever made and with her favorite colors, green and purple. I pulled back my sleeve to show her mine.
“And I made a thinner one for me that matches.”
