I stepped closer to her. “You think I don’t remember every single thing about you? You are…weremy best friend in the entire world, Skip. Forgetting someone like you isn’t that easy.”
It was nearly impossible, actually. Sierra, and everything about her, left a permanent imprint on myheart. Knowing her—loving her—had altered my brain chemistry.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured.
I rested my elbow on the counter, leaning into it so I was eye level with her. “Sorry for what?”
“For…everything. For leaving.”
I reached out, my thumb brushing the hair out of her face, across the faded pink scar on her cheek below her left eye. I remembered the first time I noticed the scar—two years after we’d graduated high school, two years after she’d left for the first time—and my stomach felt like it was tying itself up in knots.
I half expected her to flinch back like she sometimes did, but her eyes just flicked to my retreating hand. “You did what you had to do to survive, Sierra. I don’t hold any of it against you. I never have. Never will.”
I may not have known the full story of why she left our senior year of high school, or even why she left five years ago for the second time, but I knew what she’d gone through when we were kids. That, to me, was enough.
She exhaled a heavy breath, tucking her hair behind her ear and straightening her posture. “I’d like to start over, though, if that’s possible. Be…friends again.”
Friendswas the last thing I wanted to be with Sierra—I didn’t think it was possible for us to be just friends—but if that’s what it would take to get her back, then it was a start.
“Friends sounds great, Skip.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
sierra
Classic country music played from the speakers overhead in Rudy’s—one of Miles City’s local bars—as Hayden and I walked through the double doors. The scent of stale beer, aged wood, and a plethora of sweaty bodies greeted us. The bar seemed pretty packed for a Thursday night, but it was summer vacation, and college classes would be starting up again in a few weeks.
“Come on, they’re probably all in the back playing pool.” Hayden reached for my hand but pulled away when our fingers nearly touched.
My heart screamed at me to take his hand, to make up for all of the time we’d lost, but the darkest part of my brain reminded me that it was my fault and he deserved better. Maybe we’d be together if I hadn’t left so many times.
I cleared my throat, choosing to stuff my hands in my pockets. “Lead the way.”
College-aged kids crowded the dance floor, couples flinging each other around in a swing dance.
“Hayden, you made it!” One of the cowboys—a tall manwith medium-brown hair and warm, honey-colored eyes—who gathered around the pool table slapped Hayden on the back, pulling him toward the game.
“Thank God you did.” Another—a blond with short, cropped hair—handed him a pool stick. “For a second I was worried I was going to have to play with Mikey.”
“Hey, you idiots, don’t be rude. Who’s this with you, Hayden?” A woman with dark hair and piercing blue eyes, who appeared to be around the same age as us, pushed off from her position against the wall to approach me. “I’m Ellison Carson.”
She extended her hand to shake, and I took it.
“Sierra…” I cleared my throat. “Bayley.”
“How do you know Hayden?” she asked.
The shortest of the men—with a thick mustache and tattoo sleeves covering his arms—cut in with a stupid grin on his face. “Wait, wait, wait. Haydie, isn’t this your?—”
“Sierra’s an old friend,” Hayden answered before he could finish his sentence.
I had to admit, it stung a little. I didn’t know why; I was the one who suggested we befriendsagain in the first place, but “friends,” and especiallyoldfriends, didn’t feel like the proper way to describe who Hayden was to me. Who we were to each other.
“She’s staying with me for a while. Her trailer caught fire at the rodeo in Goldfinch.”
“Oh, that was yours?” Ellison’s eyes widened.
I crossed my arms over my chest, suddenly feeling a bit self-conscious. “Yeah…”
