One of him and Indie on their wedding day.
Was the wedding photo behind this one? Or had she taken it out? Put it somewhere she wouldn’t see it so she wouldn’t have to think about him or them or their marriage?
The bedroom door opened. Indie had changed out of her dark jeans and vest, and now she wore nice slacks and a blouse.
She pulled on sandals by the door.
“You look nice.” That didn’t even touch the surface of how she looked. She’d always been the most beautiful woman in any room.
Her shoulders tensed. “Thanks. We’ll have to chat another time.”
“Tomorrow?”
She lifted her purse from the hall table. “I can’t tomorrow.”
“Sunday?”
“I’ll have to check if I’m free.” Once her shoes were on, she stepped through her door.
He followed behind her, frowning at the beat-up Honda. The fuck? “Where’s your Subaru?”
“I sold it.”
“And bought this piece of shit?”
“It’s perfectly safe.”
Like hell it was. It looked older thanhim.
“Can you lock up after yourself?” she asked. “I’ll see you later.”
She wrapped her fingers around the handle of her car door, but before she could open it, he reached out and gently gripped her arm. “Cricket.”
She stopped. And God, just the feel of her skin beneath his fingertips was a reminder of how much he’d been starved of her over the last twelve months. Every day had been a battle. And not a battle he’d often won.
She didn’t pull away, but the muscles in her arm flexed.
Long seconds passed before she finally turned, and the hesitancy in her eyes hit him like a physical gut punch. Once upon a time, she would have thrown herself into his arms. That time had passed.
“What, Colt?”
“I can’t leave without knowing when we’re going to talk.” Because the idea that theywouldn’ttalk, that they’d keep living in the same town without any contact, was unbearable.
Her gaze flickered between his eyes. “Where are you staying?”
“For now, I’m at Mom’s.”
A sudden hardness shuttered her features. “I’ll message you.”
His mind shot back to the night they’d broken up. She’d mentioned his mother as part of the reason they’d broken up, and he’d never understood it. But damn, he’d thought about it a lot. “Is everything—”
“I really need to go, Colt.”
She went to turn, but he stepped closer. “Promise me you’ll text.”
She glanced over her shoulder, and her mouth was so close to his that all he had to do was lower his head and he’d touch her lips with his own.
“I’ll text,” she whispered.
