For one reckless heartbeat, he had the urge to forget the last twenty-four hours. To turn around, pull her into his arms, and tell her that the lies didn’t matter.
Instead, he gave the wrench another quarter turn.
“Seth?”
Her voice sounded smaller than he'd ever heard it.
He closed his eyes for the briefest moment before setting the wrench on the workbench. He still couldn't make himself look at her.
“I'm sorry.”
The words were barely above a whisper, but they carried through the still barn as clearly as if she'd shouted them.
Instead of turning around, he strode into the barn’s tack room. Leather bridles hung in neat rows along one wall, while saddles lined the racks, and shelves held supplies. Nothing needed his attention, but he reached for a halter anyway, moving it an inch to the left before straightening another beside it.
He knew she had followed him and stood in the doorway, waiting for him to say something.
He couldn't. Not yet.
Hurt, not reason, would fuel his words at that moment. As much as she'd broken his heart, the last thing he wanted was to return the favor.
“I know you probably don't want to see me.”
That wasn't it.
Seeing her wasn't the problem. The problem was that every time he looked at her, every feeling he'd had yesterday morning came rushing back. He still wanted to kiss her. Still wanted to hear her laugh. Still wanted to believe the future he'd started imagining hadn't disappeared overnight.
He moved boxes around on a shelf, more for something to do with his hands than anything else.
“I never meant to hurt you.”
“You did.” His own voice sounded rough, as though he hadn't used it in days.
“I know.”
“No.” He finally turned around and looked at her. “I don't think you do.”
Tears shimmered in her eyes. Her hair was divided into several neat braids, likely Arianna's handiwork, and her shoulders sagged beneath the burdens she carried. Yet she was still the most beautiful woman he'd ever laid eyes on.
He'd imagined this conversation a dozen different ways since storming out of dinner the night before. More than once, he'd convinced himself seeing her cry would somehow make him feel better.
It didn't. If anything, it made the ache in his chest worse.
“I told you things I've never told anybody,” he said.
“So did I.”
He leaned back against the workbench and crossed his arms, forcing himself to hold her gaze. “But you left out the biggest one.”
“I—I didn't know how to tell you.”
“You had plenty of chances.”
She lowered her gaze, blinking hard. “I know.”
“I asked why you came to Hazard and what your plans were. I asked you things because I wanted to know everything about you.” He shook his head slowly, still struggling to reconcile the woman he'd fallen for with the secret she'd carried from the moment they'd met. “And now that I think about it, none of your answers were really lies... but they weren't the truth either.”
“I wasn't lying about us.” A tear escaped and slid down her cheek before she brushed it away. “Everything I felt... every minute we spent with each other... that was real.”
