“Lucy thought June Bee was catchier.” A little sweeter and more innocent, just how people liked their country starlets. But it was also another separation between June the singer and June Kerrigan, the orphaned girl whose parents were homeless, the girl who’d survived the same car crash that had killed her parents. That girl wrote songs about the high school sweetheart who’d let her go. I hadn’t shared those songs yet. June Bee wrote about young love and bright futures. Of course, no one was interested.
“June Bee. That is catchy.” Her smile dipped when more gatherers approached. A reminder that she was at the burial of the man she loved. She gave my hand a squeeze. “Thank you for coming. It means a lot. I wish you all the best.”
Then she was giving my sisters hugs and newcomers were wedging in. I backed out.
Rhys stood ten feet away, his back to me. A few guys lingered around him. I recognized a couple as hired guys at the Kinkade ranch.
I should give Rhys my condolences. We were adults and this funeral wasn’t about us. I walked over, my steps slow and dragging. One of the guys saw me, recognition flaring in his eyes. He tapped another guy and cocked his head toward the line of cars parked down the road winding through the cemetery. They walked off and the third guy followed, leaving Rhys alone.
His head was tipped down and he’d shoved his hands in the pockets of a black sports coat. “Rhys.”
He turned and my pulse stuttered. Being confronted with a fully grown Rhys was a new experience. One I should have grown into with him.
“June.” If he was pleased to see me, he didn’t show it. Grief lined his handsome face and darkened his blue eyes. The short, trimmed beard was new and it fit the more solid, more grown-up Rhys. Made him even more ruggedly good-looking.
“I’m so sorry about your dad.” I adjusted the lapels of my coat lest I reach out and touch him. “How are you doing?”
His expression softened. “You can imagine. How ’bout you?”
“It’s been...” Demoralizing? Pointless? Slow? I shrugged. “One step forward and two steps back.”
“You knew it might take time.”
The way he spoke, alluding to our history, made my chest ache. The light sear of tears touched the backs ofmy eyes. “Yeah. I just didn’t know how lonely it would be, I guess.”
He looked away. The muscles in his jaw popped, then his denim-blue gaze cooled. “I’m sure you’ve made friends. You always do.”
Confusion mingled with the hurt and the hope. Had I thought he’d open his arms to me like Wren? That he’d welcome me back and apologize for ghosting me after five years of constantly being by my side?
Yes. I had. “I have, but it’s not like home.”
“Home isn’t like home anymore.” He glanced around us. We were attracting the attention of the visitors who lingered in the chill. The burn of their collective gazes seeped through my wool coat, yet I shivered and the movement caught his attention. “Did you get acclimated to Southern weather that fast?”
Like with Wren, I’d take the change of topic and run with it. I was also grateful to be on friendlier ground again. “You should see me walk around in a T-shirt when everyone else is wearing winter coats.”
“Your cowboy boots the only ones that’ve seen some real manure in that town?”
“Not this pair, cowboy.” I grinned. He flashed me a smile. The grief briefly vanished from his expression, and the guy I’d fallen in love with stared back at me. The air between us crackled. Then a vacuum opened. The sizzle was gone, leaving only the cold.
His jaw flexed hard. “Thanks for coming.”
The changes in his demeanor were giving me whiplash, but he was going through a hard time. “I was thinking of staying for a few days, if you want to talk at all.”
The corner of his jaw popped again. “You know that high school stuff is over, right?”
That high school stuff? Another fissure in my heart opened. “I was offering out of concern for you. I still care about you, Rhys.”
“You don’t need to be concerned for me.” His tone softened but only slightly. “We’re over. We’ve been over for a long time.”
“You lied to me that day.” I winced. I had not meant to bring up the past here. The heartbroken eighteen-year-old in me wanted answers, but she should’ve waited for a better time and place.
“You didn’t want to hear the truth,” he said flatly.
I reared back, then caught myself before onlookers could notice. “You spent the night with me knowing you weren’t going to Tennessee.” My mouth needed to stay shut.Not the time or place, Junie!But why? He didn’t have to go through any of this alone. I would’ve been there for him.
His gaze skated away. “Like I said?—”
“I didn’t want to hear the truth. Right.” I swallowed the hard lump of questions I wanted to ask. Why had he lied? Why had he led me on that last night? Why had he given up? All I said was, “I waited.”
