“Are you bitter about it?”
She let out a slow breath. “Not bitter. Just stupid.” She met his eyes. “Judd wasn’t a villain in the way you’d picture. Never raised a hand, never said a cruel word. But he cheated.”
“That’s a bad man in my book,” Cole said, his voice firm but quiet. “There’s more than one way to hurt someone.”
She exhaled, the sun warming her face. “He was anurse in the ED where I worked. When he first asked me out I should have known better, but I convinced myself he’d change. That I was special.” She shook her head. “The first time, I forgave him. Then I started hearing rumors at the hospital, and I noticed how he looked at Avery, how he laughed too loud at her jokes. They both said it was innocent. I wanted to believe that.” She squared her shoulders. “I don’t care about Judd anymore. What hurts is my sister. Let her have him. He’ll never be faithful to her any more than he was to me. I just want justice for what she took.”
“His cheating must’ve cut deep all the same,” Cole said quietly.
“It did. The second time, I realized I’d been married to a liar the whole time. He swore it was a mistake, that he loved me. That’s when I understood I wasn’t the problem. He was.” She leaned back on the blanket and looked up at the pale wash of blue overhead. “I filed for divorce. Every time he came to collect his things he tried to talk me into taking him back. Then one night he showed up, saw Avery, and hugged her like they’d been friends forever. I’m sure they’d been together long before that.” A bitter laugh slipped free. “It won’t last. He’ll get bored, or she’ll betray him the same way she did me. Neither of them deserves loyalty.” She shrugged, the motion light but resolute. “I hate saying that about my sister. But it’s the truth.”
Cole nodded. “Most of us learn eventually.”
Aftyn propped herself on one elbow, brushing grass from her jeans. “Tell me about the woman who left you.”
He smirked. “I suppose Connie mentioned it.”
“She did. Not in a gossipy way.”
Cole sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Fora while I was the town fool. I kept taking Callie back, blinded by the hope she’d change.” He turned his gaze to the pond, sunlight dancing across the rippling surface. “This land is in my blood. I’ll never leave it. Dad handed it down to me, oldest son tradition, though I think Callie always believed I’d eventually sell my share to Seth or Ethan.” He paused. “My dad owned eight hundred acres, and he parceled it to two hundred each when he retired. I inherited the homestead. I promised him I’d keep it alive, and I will, until the day I can’t anymore and hopefully hand it down to my own family someday.”
“Where’s the main house?” Aftyn’s brows pulled together.
“Gone. Torn down years back. My parents built something smaller, and we each put up our own places. But it’s all still Harrison land. Always will be.”
“Do you think she’ll ever come back?”
“I doubt it.”
“Was she that unhappy here?”
He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, eyes on the slow bob of his line. “Callie was born and raised in Clifton, but she always wanted big cities, bright lights, places that didn’t shut down by nine. Small towns aren’t for everyone.” He glanced at her. “Same as city life isn’t for everyone. People who work the land usually only give it up when they’re forced to.”
“What forces it?”
“Bad luck, mostly. Drought, sick animals, theft. Things that can wipe out what took generations to build.” He watched the bobber drift. “I’ll keep at it until I can’t.”
She smiled, glancing at the wide-open sky. “It’s gorgeous out here. The air feels different, cleaner. I love Colorado, but this is next level.”
“Montana’s got more room to breathe,” Cole said quietly. “Not as many people.”
“Colorado doesn’t stretch out like this, that’s for sure.”
Cole nodded toward her line. “You’ve got a bite.”
“Oh!” She stood, grabbed her pole, and let the fish run a beat. “Alright, little guy. Almost there.” She tugged on the pole to set the hook and started reeling.
Cole moved beside her with the net, scooping it up as she brought it close. “Nice catch.”
Aftyn lifted the fish by its lower lip and held it up while Cole worked the hook free, then tossed it back. She watched the ripples fade.
“I wonder what fish think. You suppose he goes home and tells his family, ‘You won’t believe what I just survived’?”
Cole laughed. “Fish families, huh?”
“You don’t think fish have families?” she challenged.
“Can’t say I ever thought about it.” He grinned. “Seems like you have though.”
