“Those were just plans,” I tell her, trying to keep a friendly smile on my face even as my bottom lip quivers just slightly. Walking her through this is like reliving it all over again. And the pain is just as fresh today as it was then. “Sometimes, plans don’t work out.”
“No. You two were more than plans. You were fated. Just like me and my love. I saw it. I saw it.” She shakes her head, then lifts her crochet project again. As she begins working the hook through the yarn, she smiles and mutters happily to herself, lost in whatever daydream she’s currently walking in. Maybe in her version of reality, Dylan and I are still together. Maybe we’re having a child.
Would the young one have his hazel eyes? Crooked smile?
Because just thinking about it has me in desperate need of air, I push up from the chair and head into the kitchen to place my glass of tea in the sink. Outside, I can hear Riley working on the porch. The occasional nail being shot into place has taken up a good portion of the time I’ve been here. I keep meaning to pop out and thank him for being so quick to get over here, but I haven’t had the chance yet.
“You okay, honey?” Ursula questions. She was close friends with my mom, having also grown up here in Pine Creek.
“Yeah. I’m okay.”
“She’s only thinking about Dylan since she saw him earlier.”
“When did she see him?” Since Charlene doesn’t tend to get out, it would be unusual for her to see Dylan, who rarely leaves the ranch, aside from Sunday mornings or missions for Hunt Brothers Search and Rescue.
Ursula looks at me, confused. “He’s outside.” She points to the porch. “I thought you knew.”
“I—” And then it hits me—Riley. Mischievous troublemaker. Ugh. Despite not wanting to speak his brother’s name around me, he’s always trying to put Dylan in my path. Likely because he hopes that, one day, what’s broken will be repaired. What he doesn’t realize, though, is that, even if Dylan offered to give me the time of day, I don’t know that I would be interested.
He broke too much of me to put back together.
She arches a brow. “Didn’t you ask him to fix the porch?”
“I asked Riley. I’ll be right back.” Forcing a smile onto my face, I open the back door and step out onto the porch.
As I do, my mouth dries.
Dylan’s back is to me, his white tank top drenched with sweat. Scars snake out of the edges of the shirt, climbing onto his shoulder blades. It’s the first I’ve seen of the physical damage done to him all those years ago.
And my eyes fill at the sight of it.
The muscles of his back contract as he works with a piece of lumber that’s straddling two sawhorses. He slips a pencil behind his ear, then turns to face me, stopping abruptly when he sees me standing there.
Hazel eyes so piercing they steal the very air around me level on mine.
He’s always had this power over me. The ability to make everything and everyone else around me disappear—similar to how I feel when I read a book. Maybe that’s why I loved him so much. His ability to block out the noise and ground me in the present.
“I asked Riley to fix this,” I blurt.
“Riley’s busy.” He lifts the piece of lumber and carries it up to the porch, then lays it in place and uses a nail gun to fix it in place.
“I didn’t mean for you to do it.”
Dylan doesn’t verbally respond, just nods.
“You don’t have to do it.”
“I don’t mind.”
It’s hard to believe we used to talk for hours when he can barely utter three words to me in a single sentence these days.
“Fine.” Hating myself for letting it get under my skin even after all this time, I turn on my heel and head back into the house. Ursula is getting Charlene to her feet.
“Emmaline! Dearest girl, when did you get here?”
Tears filling my eyes and emotions searing my throat, I force a smile. “Not too long ago, Ma. Are you off to take your afternoon nap?”
Her expression turns regretful. “I was, but you just got here. Why don’t we have some tea?”
