“Ava, what’s Kasey’s biggest fear?”
“Failing his ranch,” she says plainly.
“And what would ‘failing his ranch’ look like?”
She levels him with a flat look. “It’s been in his family for generations. There’s a pressure he and his brothers naturally feel to make sure it flourishes for generations to come, but it’s not easy. It’s expensive, and at times risky. They don’t like to show it, especially not to people in this town. But they worry.”
I wait for the internal bristling, for the irritation at being exposed like that. But it doesn’t come. I’m actually surprised to feel a sense of . . .relief, at the truth of it. A reminder to this man, to this representation of others in this town, that my family is human. That, like everyone else, we’re doing our best.
“Do you trust him?” Pastor Brown asks.
The question sinks into my gut like a heavy stone.
Ava shoots him a frustrated glance. “What kind of a question is that?”
Pastor Brown shrugs. “One would argue it’s a rather important one.” He steeples his fingers and rests his hands on the desk in front of him. “Do you trust him?”
“Of course I do,” she snaps. “I trust him with my life.”
“And with your heart?”
Ava doesn’t hesitate. “Yes.” She doesn’t look at me, doesn’t so much as flinch on the topic. Her attention is wholly focused on him. “If I didn’t trust him, I wouldn’t . . . I wouldn’tbe here.”
He nods, then he turns to me. “And you?”
“And me what?”
“Do you trust Ava?”
I look at her again, my heart hammering in my chest. “Yes,” I answer, but it doesn’t sound nearly as confident.
She must hear it, because she whips her head my way. Hurt flashes across her face before it smooths over and that mask of patience returns. My hands start to sweat as the question flips over and over in my mind. Do I trust Ava?CanI trust her, after everything? I want to, I think. But . . .
“She left home once,” the pastor’s voice cuts in. And I wonder if he knows how deep those words ring true, if he realizes the bull’s-eye he’s managed to hit.
I swallow. “Yes,” I repeat, lamely.
“Should we talk about it?”
“Do we need to?” Ava chimes in, defensive. I don’t blame her. “I’m not sure how it’s relevant to anything.”
Pastor Brown keeps his eyes trained on me, sensing my vulnerability like a wolf would sense a newborn calf. “Kasey?” he presses.
I blow out a breath, avoiding the pull to look at Ava again. “Ava left home the summer after we graduated, and it broke my heart,” I admit. “Obliterated it, actually.” I feel her go still in the seat beside me. “But I would be a fool to sit here and tell you it wasn’t worth it. I mean, shit, she’s alawyernow. She went and found something for herself that this town couldn’t offer her, and I’m proud she made that choice.”
“Even if it hurt you?”
“Especiallybecause it hurt me,” I counter. “She could have stayed. She could have taken the easy way out to spare myfeelings and try to make things work. But what would that have accomplished in the end, besides leaving her trapped in a life that doesn’t fulfill her? It might have hurt, but she was brave. She knew what she needed, despite the pain it would cause. And she chose it. I could never fault her for that.”
I suck down a breath, and for the first time since Ava walked into Wild Coyote and back into my life, the air reaches deep into my lungs.
“I see,” Pastor Brown says, eyes glinting. “Tell me, do you worry she might leave again?”
Yes, I think, heart clenching. “No,” I say aloud, with all the steeliness needed to keep up this ruse, both with him and with her.
I can’t let her see how deeply I still fear the loss of her.
I refuse to show her that still-gaping wound.
