“Anyway, half of your baggage came fromhim,” Whit says, gesturing angrily toward the imaginary Denver standing in front of us. “If he has something to say about it, I’ll give him a piece of my mind.”
“No, no. This is just my own insecurities…Icriedwhen we had sex last night, and he didn’t run off. He was actually really sweet and tried to get me to talk to him after. He implied that he still loves me, and he said I was it for him.”
“I think I’m going to gamble on ‘might not,’ ” she muses, looking up at the tree canopy.
“What?”
Whit clears her throat. “I think he mightnothurt you, for what it’s worth. Obviously, I’m not a relationship expert by any stretch, but I’d give him a chance.”
“I want to…” I admit, to both her and myself.
I want more than anything for the love story we told each other as kids to come true. It’s something I brushed aside for years when I was away from here—telling myself I was a badass feminist with no desire to settle down with a man. It was true that I didn’t have the desire to be witha man,because it’s only ever been about him.
“Okay, worst-case scenario, what happens?”
I wince, eyebrows scrunched together. “Whit, I don’tthink we want to talk about what the worst-case scenario might look like…given what happened before.”
“Blair, I know you don’t think you do…but you have support here. You didn’t then, and I’m so sorry for that.” Her arm links up with mine, our sweaty inner-elbow ditches pressed together, and we take a steep shortcut down a small hill, staggering onto the concrete sidewalk of Main Street.
The smell of Anette’s cinnamon rolls penetrates the air, and I smile at my sister.
“Thanks for the talk, sis,” I say.
“Figured out what you’ll do about him?”
“I think I want to bet on ‘might not’…but you better have my phone number set to come through even when you’re on ‘do not disturb,’ just in case.”
“I’d be a pretty horrible sister if it wasn’t already set up that way.” She lets our arms fall away from each other as she reaches for the bakery door.
The smell of cinnamon and coffee floods my nostrils as I step inside, and Whit spots where Mom and Denver are seated toward the back of the small café. They’re chatting like old friends while Mom cradles her massive mug to her chest, a smile glowing on her normally pallid face.
“Hey.” I sidle up next to Denver’s chair, while Whit immediately crouches down next to Mom. “Thanks for staying here with her, seriously. You probably could’ve just told Anette not to let her leave.”
“But then if she wanted to leave, she might get scared when they tried to stop her. Figured it was easier to play it off like we’re just catching up.”
“Thank you.” My eyes flit over to Mom. He’s right—she would’ve gotten confused and maybe even combative, if people forced her to stay in the building against her will.
“Don’t need to thank me, Bear. It’s the least I could do. Besides, I was here getting coffee for her daughter, so ditching her wouldn’t have been a good look.”
He points to the two coffees on the table—one hot, one iced.
“Unfortunately, you’re choosing betweenpreviously hotandpreviously iced.They’re both disgustingly room temperature now.” He leans forward to look at the cups with a sour expression.
“I think I’m gonna pass and take Mom home.”
“Okay…Hey, before you go.” His tone drops to barely more than a hushed whisper. So quiet I need to lean in and train my ears. “Are we good after last night?”
“We’re good.” I force a small smile, still sofuckingscared, even though minutes ago I was placing bets on our relationship. “It’s going to take a bit of time to fully trust I won’t get hurt, though.”
It’s not the answer he wants, or even deserves, given he’s done nothing but be honest and kind to me. All I’m able to give him right now is an opportunity to get back to where we were.
And Denver Wells takes his shot without hesitation.
“Good thing I’m ready to prove I can be trusted with your heart.”
Denver
Thankfully, Vegas has no issues following the other horses on his own. My mind is so far gone, I’d be walking us in circles if it were entirely up to me. All I can think about is Blair—how fucking badly I miss her after a few days apart. Talking to her over text isn’t the same as smelling her perfume and hearing her laugh.
