He must be at least forty now, right? How many years were between us? Fourteen? Fifteen? Damn.
Forsythe’s eyes moved from the door to me.“Your momma called Cooper asking for the key.”
I lowered my flashlight. “Yeah, but you’re not Cooper.”
He pulled a single key from his front pocket and unlocked the front door. “No, I’m not.” He then opened the door and reached inside, turning the front porch light on. “Welcome home, little Lucille.”
My eyes squinted from the light as I tried to look up at him. “No one calls me that anymore.” I grabbed my luggage and eyed him closely as I stepped past him and walked inside. “And you never answered my question. Why are you back here?”
Forsythe removed his hat and brushed his dark, salted hair with his fingers. I instantly noticed the rather large scar along the right side of his face, stretching from his eyebrow to the middle of his cheek. His skin looked as though it had seen too much time in the sun, which told me I was probably right about his age. “You don’t remember, do you?” His question knocked me off balance.
My brow raised at his question. “Remember what?” I asked.
Forsythe shrugged. “Don’t matter.” His eyes met mine. “Good to see you haven’t changed your hair, otherwise I wouldn’t have known it was you. Can’t have some random person walking into Ms. Nellie’s home.” His words sounded almost territorial.
My cheeks flushed again. “It’smyhouse. Not yours. And since you refuse to answer me, I think it’s best if you leave.”
He returned his hat to his head. “Calm down, I’ll leave you alone.” He paused. “But I did promise your momma I’d look around to make sure the house was good before I left.”
“She what? Why?”
Forsythe shrugged. “Trust me, I don’t want to be here either. I got way more important things to do with my time, but Ms. Nellie asked and…” He stopped, noticing the frustrated look clearly written across my face. “I won’t take long. But you never know when some city folk might come wandering all this way and break in. The house has been pretty empty for some time, and I hear they prefer to weasel in through old windows.” He grinned. I opened my mouth to speak, but he cut me off and walked right past me. “Guess it’s a good thing I came down hereso quickly. I would really hate to have caught you breaking into Ms. Nellie’s house.” He casually walked farther inside.
“It’s my house—hey, wait! What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I rushed after him.
He looked back at me over his shoulder with a twinkle in his eye. “My job.” He stood in the middle of the house, looking around. It irritated me to see him standing in my home.
My jaw clenched. “God, can you just leave it alone!” Forsythe looked back at me with a blank look. “I don’t know why you’re even here, but can you just slither back into whatever hellhole you climbed out of? I don’t need your damn help!” I was shocked by how easily I was able to express myself. It was as if I had no control when it came to him.
Some things never change.
Forsythe remained still and eyed me closely. “Fine by me.” He turned around and did as I asked. “I’m too tired to babysit your ass,” he grumbled. “I already got roped into dog sitting.”
“Wait.” I stopped him in the doorway. “Do you mean Wimberly?”
He nodded. With the cowboy hat, he nearly touched the top of the doorway. I guess he wasn’t some lost kid anymore. “Pretty annoying little mutt.”
I scowled. “Well, if she’s such a bother, bring her down to the house and I’ll take care of her myself. She’smybrother’s dog anyways.” The words felt strange coming out of my mouth, having not used them in so many years.
What if the dog didn’t recognize me? Or worse, what if I didn’t recognize her? And why did he, of all people, have her?
Forsythe lowered his head and grabbed my luggage, setting it inside the home. “It’s late. I’ll bring the dog down in the morning.” He then stepped outside. “I’ll fix the screen then too.” He pointed to the window. “Can’t have Ms. Nellie seeing that.”
My arms crossed. “You still never answered my question.” I huffed. “And I don’t need your help with the damn window. I can do it myself.”
Forsythe eyed me. “I’m not doing it for you, Lucille.” His eyes studied me while I stirred with anger. “Still so fiery. I almost forgot that you were a city girl for a moment.” He stepped down the porch steps and onto the driveway.
I rushed out onto the porch, shouting after him, “Don’t call me a damn city girl! You know nothing about me!” He ignored me. “I’m not a city girl!”
Forsythe stopped and turned back towards me. “Then what are you? ‘Cause being born on a ranch your daddy owns doesn’t make you a country girl either.”
My face burned with anger. “Then what does that make you, huh?” I crossed my arms. “You weren’t born here, and as much as you may want him to be, he was never your dad. He wasmine. And unlike you, I never ran from him.”
He stared at me. “No. But you did run. Ran right to the city.” He eyed me. “Why?”
My head cocked at his bold question. “Why did you?” I demanded. “Even after everything he did for you?—”
“I had my reasons.”
