She didn’t know where to start, so what she said was “I need to tell you, there hasn’t been anyone in my life, since my parents died. I have a really hard time trusting that people won’t leave and allowing myself to rely on people. I don’t know that it’s going to be better, now, with Cass gone, too.”

“You rely on Hannah,” Miriam pointed out.

“Hannah literally stops breathing if she goes past the city limits of Advent,” Noelle deadpanned. “I know she’s not leaving me, as long as I’m at Carrigan’s.”

“That’s not why, and we both know it. Hannah’s a rock,” Miriam argued. Noelle smiled. Hannah was that. “And I’m not. I left everyone, and you don’t think you can trust me not to leave you.”

Noelle ran her hands through her hair. “Look, I know you left because of something your dad did, and not because you decided you didn’t care about your family anymore…” she began.

“But I still ran, and stayed running, and never explained to Hannah or Levi or the Matthewses why I wasn’t coming home,” Miriam finished for her. “I still seem like a flight risk.”

Maybe, if she wasn’t still smarting about how Cass had chosen to leave things, Noelle wouldn’t be so gun-shy. Or if her parents hadn’t walked away from her. This was who she was, though, this was what her sore spots were. She couldn’t unprogram her buttons just because she recognized them.

Why did Cass have to choose this woman, who she must have known would get into every crack in Noelle’s armor, to share the business? Was she trying, from beyond the grave, to push Noelle into outgrowing her old fears? It was something Cass would do, manipulating all of them because she’d decided Miriam and Noelle needed it, and that brought a fresh wave of frustration at Cass. It wasn’t fair that Cass had waited until she was gone to spring this on her, so that Noelle couldn’t yell at her.

Miriam sat watching her, waiting for a response.

“Can we be honest? I just watched you break up with your fiancée and you might not need one more thing to add to your mess, emotionally. You seem like you might be at capacity.”

“You’re not wrong,” Miriam conceded. She leaned forward, her elbows propped on the table. “I’m not asking you to marry me, Noelle. I’m not even asking you to kiss me. I don’t know what’s going to happen with whatever this attraction is between us. I’m asking if you want my help saving this farm.”