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“I’ll think about it,” I said. “That’s the best I can promise right now.”

“That’s all I can ask,” she said, patting my hand once before standing up and brushing crumbs off her apron. “Now finish your sandwich, and let this woman get back to work before the regulars start tearin’ the diner apart lookin’ for pie.”

Chapter 12

Westley

The day passed quickly at the church, which I was thankful for. Being busy gave me less time to think about Rhett and all the confusing feelings I was having in his direction. But when the sun started to dip in the sky and pastor Mike told me it was time to go home for the day, I didn’t have any choice but to head back to the apartment.

I wandered a bit on my way home, walking through streets I hadn’t walked down in years. Sagebrush hadn’t changed much since I was a kid riding my bike after school with Rhett. The only real difference was the section devastated by the tornado that spring. Even so, the rebuilding efforts were nearly finished. The houses weren’t replaced with harsh modern equivalents, but rebuilt in their same old-fashioned style so they matched everyone else. It was almost hard to tell which ones had been damaged.

By the time I climbed those creaking stairs up to Dolly’s apartment, the sky had gone that deep orange color that always made the whole town look like it was on fire, if only for a few minutes. I could smell fried chicken drifting up from the diner below, and my stomach growled loud enough that I figured Rhett could probably hear it through the door.

I knocked once, out of habit more than necessity since I had a key now, and let myself in.

Rhett was sitting at the little table by the window, a legal pad in front of him covered in his messy handwriting, a pencil tucked behind his ear. He looked up when I came in, and something flickered across his face, gone too fast for me to read it properly.

“Hey,” he said. “How was the church?”

“Good,” I said, setting my hat on the hook by the door. “Fixed about half the fence before Mike ran me off for the day. Says I work too hard.”

“Sounds like you.” Rhett’s mouth twitched like he wanted to smile but couldn’t quite manage it all the way. He set his pencil down and covered the legal pad with his forearm, like he didn’t want me seeing whatever he’d written there.

“Whatcha workin’ on?” I asked, nodding toward the pad.

“Nothin’,” he said, a little too fast, the same way I’d answered him that morning about being fine. “Just some numbers. Tryin’ to figure out what I got left.”

I didn’t push, mostly because I didn’t have room to talk about keeping secrets. Not with the memory of that kiss still sitting in my chest like a stone that was slowly crushing me to death.

“Dolly feed you dinner yet?” I asked instead, changing the subject.

“I haven’t gone down.”

“Were you waitin’ for me?”

Rhett shrugged, his cheeks flushing pink. “Yeah, I guess so.”

A sudden warmth filled my belly at his words. I looked away before he could catch whatever was happening on my face.

“Well, c’mon then,” I said, grabbing my cowboy hat back off the hook. “No sense lettin’ Dolly’s cookin’ go cold on our account.”

Rhett folded the legal pad shut and tucked it into the drawer of the little side table before he stood, wincing slightly as he pushed up from the chair. His ribs were still giving him trouble, I could tell by the careful way he moved, like he was testing each motion before he committed to it.

“You need a hand?” I asked.

“I ain’t an invalid, West.” But when I stepped closer anyway, he didn’t wave me off.

“I’m just worried about you,” I said, my hand finding the center of his back. “You took quite a beatin’.”

Rhett went still under my hand, just for a second, and I felt something pass through him like a jolt of electricity. Then he cleared his throat and stepped away, putting a little distance between us that hadn’t been there a moment before.

“I’m fine,” he said again, that same word he’d been using all day like it could patch over whatever was really going on underneath.

“Are you sure, Buttercup?” I asked, my voice soft and low. I didn’t want to scare him. “You’ve been actin’ strange for a while now.”

“I could say the same about you,” he shot back, catching me off guard. “Ever since this mornin’ you’ve been avoiding lookin’ me in the eye.” He stared up at me now and I could see the tears forming in the corners of his eyes. “You hate me, don’t you? For makin’ you lose everything? It’s my fault you’re here.”

“Hate you?” The words hit me like a boot to the chest. “Rhett, hell no. Never that. Not even close.”