She gave me a long, searching look. “You know, I don’t say all this to scare you off. If you like him, you should go for it. He’s a good man and life’s too short to let rumors and the past get in the way.”
“I don’t like him like that. I just . . . felt weird about all the whispers. He seems nice, and I know how rough it can be starting over.”
Sutton’s head tilted and she flashed me a pitying look before schooling her features and coming around to sit next to me.
“Hey,” Sutton said, bumping my shoulder with hers. “I don’t tell you enough how amazing you are.”
“Sutt—”
“No, just let me finish. You are. You’re giving yourself and that beautiful little boy an incredible life.”
Tears pricked my eyes. “It doesn’t feel like it.” I don’t know why I said it aloud, but it was true.
“It’s only just getting started.” She grabbed my hand. “You are a million times better off without that asshole. Look at how far you’ve come, Lil. I know you want more, and I have no doubt you’ll get more. But don’t forget to be proud of how far you’ve come, too.”
I rested my head on her shoulder. “Thanks.”
“Of course. Now you go on and clock out. I’ve got the rest of the day handled.”
With one more squeeze of my hand, she stood and walked through the swinging door to the front of the bakery, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
I’d already lost everything once. What else was there to be afraid of? I let myself imagine what would happen if I just stopped hiding. If I let myself feel something again, even if it hurt.
But then Sutton’s words came back to me. She was right. I had come so far. Overcame so much. And not only that, buthad Noah to think of now. I couldn’t risk it. With feelings, came attachment. And I couldn’t risk that again.
I hung up my apron and grabbed my purse, leaving out the back door.
I was right before. I needed to stop thinking about Ford and stay on my path.
It was safer that way.
Six
Ford
Ileft Campfire Bakery, relieved that Main Street was relatively empty for late afternoon. I liked the idea of walking around with no one around to stare at me for a change. I climbed into my truck, slammed the door, and sat there for a long minute, letting my forehead rest against the steering wheel.
There was something about the Montana air in fall—crisp, sharp, a little earthy—that always made everything else seem far away. I rolled down the window and let a cold gust smack me in the face, settling the nerves I felt for what I was about to do next. What I’d been putting off.
I’d been back in Whittier Falls for five days. Less than a week, and already I wanted to run again. But I’d made a promise. And I was good at keeping promises, even when I wanted to burn them to the ground.
What I wasn’t good at was showing up to see my mom. I kept finding excuses to circle the block or explore Chickadee and stack boxes in the barn until my arms went numb. Every mile between town and their place felt like a step closer to doom. I was almost convinced if I stayed in my truck long enough, the world might end before I had to face her. Or him.
I started the engine and pulled onto the road. There were more storefronts than I remembered, more buildings with new signs and freshly painted doors. Downtown was always a busy spot, but it seemed to be thriving even more after all this time.
I passed the bakery again and looked for a glimpse of Lily through the window, but she wasn’t there. For half a second, I thought about turning back, going inside, and watching her work some more until I could figure out what exactly it was about her that had gotten under my skin. She was different than what I was used to. Soft and quiet, almost shy, until she hooked you with a sarcastic comment and reeled you in with her sweet smile and doe eyes. I had probably looked like an idiot just standing around the counter while I drank my coffee, but I found myself enjoying being in her presence.
I wondered what she was doing now, but then remembered Caroline invited her out somewhere. For a surprise. My curiosity was piqued and I thought about hanging around Main Street just to see where they’d go, but I figured that would make me a creep.
And I remembered my to-do list, and the conversation I was putting off, and the miles I needed to cover before sundown.
I drove out of town heading southwest, the sun dropping fast behind the mountains, painting the sky in streaks of orange and violet. The road to my parents’ place hadn’t changed much, but the ditches were deeper, and the pavement was so scarred with frost heaves that the truck rattled even on the straightaways. I passed Red Downs, the ranch where I’d spent most of my childhood, and tried not to think about the ghosts that lived out there now. I passed Wild Creek, the Turners’ cattle ranch that Damon took over, and wondered if he was waiting to throw another punch the next time he saw me.
The land was mostly empty, just miles of pale grass and barbed wire and the occasional herd of cattle, brown and blackdots against the field. It looked like nothing and everything at the same time. Sometimes I missed the nothing. Silicon Valley was a different kind of emptiness: big, hot, loud as hell, but hollow. Here, the air filled your lungs and burned your nose and made you feel alive, even if it was just with the pain of being remembered.
My phone buzzed in the cup holder. I glanced at the screen: MILES BERNARD. I didn’t want to answer, but I did anyway.
“Yeah,” I said, not bothering with hello.
