I flinch but it’s enough. Because that phrase—those three words—have followed me around like a shadow ever since my college boyfriend. The one I thought I’d marry. The one who taught me how easy it was to confuse charm for love. The one who broke my heart and left me holding the pieces like I should’ve seen it coming.
“Yeah,” I say quietly. “I know.”
Liam watches me for another beat, but he doesn’t push. He just nods.
I leave the barn before Liam can say anything else.
I need air.
Space.
Silence.
I don’t go far. Just around the side of the barn where the old feed barrels are stacked like forgotten promises. The sun’s starting to lower, casting long golden shadows over the field, and the breeze carries the faint scent of dust and sweat and hay.
I lean against the fence, trying to exhale the weight that’s pressing down on me.
Be careful.
God, I hate those words. I hate how they follow me like I’m still the girl who trusted too fast. Who loved too hard. Who didn’t see it coming until it was too late.
I blink up at the sky, swallowing past the lump in my throat.
Footsteps crunch behind me.
I don’t turn.
“Didn’t peg you for a hider,” Will says quietly.
His voice is like sandpaper and honey. Rough and warm and far too familiar.
I sigh. “Not hiding. Just regrouping.”
He steps beside me but doesn’t crowd me. Doesn’t touch me. Just leans his elbows on the fence, staring out at the field like it holds answers.
“You okay?” he asks after a moment.
I shrug. “Fine.”
“That your official answer or your Phern Stone special?”
I glance at him. “You mean the one where I deflect with sarcasm and make everyone think I’m fine so they don’t look too closely?”
He nods, lips twitching. “That one.”
I exhale a laugh that’s more bitter than anything. “Yeah. That one.”
We fall into silence again, but it’s not uncomfortable.
Then Will says, “Saw you with Trey.”
“It’s nothing. He asked me out for a drink. That’s all.”
“You said yes.”
I turn to look at him now, sharp. “And? I’m allowed to say yes.”
His jaw clenches. “Didn’t say you weren’t.”
