CHAPTERFOUR
“Hold up.” I shake my head to clear any cobwebs. “Why would you leave your condo?”
“Long story short—I was out for a late-night run in the rain, and I heard an insistent meow.”
I can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of me. “You took in a kitty?”
“I refer to her as a cat, but yes. She was starving and wet. And she came to me when I called.”
He sounds pleased with this fact, and I smile to myself. Jared’s always adored animals.
“And let me guess—your building doesn’t allow pets?”
“Bingo.” He puts on his signal, and we exit the highway.
Within minutes, we’ve left the city behind. All I see are pastures of cows, enormous pine trees, and fields of wildflowers. And the mountains, which are a beautiful and constant landmark.
“So pretty.” I press my face to the glass.
“I think you’re going to like it here, Ash.” Jared’s tone is cautious.
Hewantsme to like it here. I can hear it in his voice.
“Do you love it as much as home?” I ask him curiously.
“I love it in a different way. Home is home, and New Orleans will always be my touchstone. But the memories there are…mixed. As you know.”
“Yeah.” I have the same feelings about the Big Easy.
Jared thinks he knows my secrets. And he does know most of them. All except for one. The one I keep closest to my heart. The one thing from my past I can’t shake.
I’ve never told any of my friends. Outside of Mama and law enforcement, I locked my story away and pretended it didn’t happen. My mother insisted it was best. And she’s probably right. I’ve never been a good liar, though. Hiding a piece of my past has eaten away at me, and I sometimes wonder if it’s changed the way I’ve lived and the choices I’ve made.
I always knew that if I ever told anyone one day, it would be Jared. A part of me feels the need to tell someone just so I’m not holding it all inside anymore. But it will change things between us forever.
I shake my head and return to the present moment. What’s important right now is my living situation, which suddenly feels complicated. Living on the same ranch as Jared isn’t exactly ideal when I’m trying to get my footing. He’s too distracting.
“So, your first game is this week, right?” I say as we drive along the winding country road.
He nods. “Home game. You coming?”
“I’m not sure. It’s also my first week of work.”
“I understand. I’ll leave you tickets at the front if you decide you’re up for it.”
“Thanks. I always love watching you play.”
He chuckles. “Now you’re talking shit.”
I glance over at him. “Am not.”
“Are too. You lose focus on my games the minute the puck is dropped.”
He’s completely right. I love to go to the games, and thanks to all the time I spent listening to the Storms talk about their sport, I actually understand hockey more than the average fan. However, I prefer to chat with whoever’s next to me about whatever the hell I’m in the mood to talk about that day rather than trying to follow the puck as it flies across the ice from one stick to another.
What he doesn’t know—and I hate to admit this—is that I loathe watching the women fight for Jared’s attention after the games. So I try not to watch him too much when I’m there in person. I’ve convinced myself, that way, it hurts less to be a witness to his fan girls afterward.
“I’m your biggest fan,” I say, surprised at how possessive my tone sounds.
