“Of course.” A soft smile appeared, and it almost beat out the sorrow in the woman’s eyes. “I hope you find what you’re looking for.”
So did she. She stepped outside and paused to let her eyes adjust. Even with the curtains open to allow sunlight into the living room, the vibrant clarity of being outdoors slammed into her.
Chase walked out of the barn with a saddle slung over his shoulder. He carried it to a horse tied to the fence and settled it into place.
The jackhammering feeling returned to her chest. She jogged down the steps and right up to him. “We were friends.”
He arched a brow and tightened the girth. “Is that a question?”
“Why did you let me believe we didn’t know each other.” She anchored her hands on her hips and squeezed.
“I told you we knew each other.”
She shook her head. “You indicated that we’d crossed paths, but not once did you give even the slightest indication that we’d been friends as kids.”
“I wanted to give you time to remember. How would telling you we grew up together help you?” He finished with the saddle and gathered up the reins. “I have to go. The cowboys need an extra hand.”
“It would’ve told me that I had a place here.” Her voice pitched upward without her approval, making her sound childish. She pinched the bridge of her nose. “I came here with no memory. You, Aunt Sarah, and Mrs. Nelson could have helped make that easier. You could have told me that we used to ride together, that I didn’t have to be afraid because you knew me.”
“That’s just it.” He stuck his boot into the stirrup and swung up. “I knew you back then. It’s been fifteen years, Michelle. I know who you were back then. I have no idea who you are now, and neither do you. That’s why I didn’t tell you.”
“That’s the biggest cop-out excuse I’ve ever heard.” Anger made her volatile. It triggered a desire to lash out. She yanked it back and leaned her head back to stare up at him. “Hearing about who I used to be is good enough. Maybe it would have helped me.”
“Did all those stories from people in town help or did it make you more anxious?” He hit her with the most forceful truth she’d ever experienced.
Somehow, he knew her even now— knew that those stories from her past had eaten at her because she wanted so badly to remember. “Were we just friends?”
“I’m sorry, but I’m not talking to you about this right now.” He reined the horse around. “I hope you remember everything, but it’s not my place to give you my version of our history.”
“Why not?”
The way he looked at her, with his heart shining in his amazing brown eyes, she thought she knew. But instead of answering, he reached down and brushed his thumb over her cheek.
He rode away, leaving her standing there with her hand over her cheek.
Whatever happened between them as kids, it had affected him. They’d been best friends, and she’d left town. If only she knewwhy,she might understand that look.
She backtracked into the barn and stopped at Samson’s stall. “Looks like the one thing I’m good at is making a mess of my life.”
He bobbed his head, drawing out a chuckle from her, and nosed her pocket.
“I don’t keep treats in my pocket.” She nudged his head away. “But I know where they are.” In the office. The one place in the barn she’d avoided. She crossed to the closed door and lifted the latch. Iron hinges squealed, and the door swung open, banging against the wall with a thud.
She tiptoed across the wooden planks like she expected someone to run in and tell her she’d crossed a line. The bag of treats sat on the lowest shelf behind a desk so scratched she couldn’t even tell the original color. Picking up the bag, she pocketed a handful of treats.
A bright spot of color hooked her attention. She dropped the bag back on the shelf and flipped over the photo laying upside down one shelf up.
Chase. He took up all her attention at first, with his soulful eyes and the bright yellow graduation cap pressing his dark hair down around his ears. She shifted her focus. A younger version of her stood beside Chase. And the look in her eyes was nothing short of absolute adoration, maybe even love.
It made no sense. If she loved him that much, why had she left?
That bad breakup he’d mentioned when they talked about her life in the city. Had he brought that up because it was what happened between them?
An ache formed in the center of her forehead. If they’d been that close, and she left, why was he so nice to her now that she’d come back?
Did he hope for a second chance?
Did she want one? What if she was the reason they’d broken up?
