Chapters (43)
- Cover
- Dedication
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-one
- Twenty-two
- Twenty-three
- Twenty-four
- Twenty-five
- Twenty-six
- Twenty-seven
- Twenty-eight
- Twenty-nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-one
- Thirty-two
- Thirty-three
- Thirty-four
- Epilogue
- ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
- AUTHOR’S NOTE
- Readers Guide
- QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION
- About the Author
- What’s next onyour reading list?
The day after her last panic attack, he’d said he was going up to the main house to eat with the crew. The second day, she’d waited for him to come up until nearly midnight, and then had a Pop-Tart for dinner. The third day, she’d waited until nine before she ate without him. Today, she’d pulled something out of the freezer by six thirty, her mood so heavy the microwave had to beep three times before she remembered to lift her hand and open the door.
LJ was too nice to tell her he’d rather not spend his suppertime with somebody who could freak out at any second, but she figured the fact that he was staying away said plenty. And then the phone rang. Now she didn’t know what to think. Where had he been the last three days?
“Good, good,” he said. “Hey, I finally made you something from back home, but nothing southern cooks up quick, so it’s been on the stove since morning. Any chance of you coming down to my place to eat tonight?”
Her gaze cut over to the soggy brown disc of meat on her floor. “Of course, yeah. What time?”
“Whenever you feel like wandering my way. Door’ll be open.”
She hung up, staring at her phone. He’d sounded as relaxed as he always did. It was hard not to think of the arguments she’d been having with him in her head for the past few days, about why he seemed to have quit their cooking lessons over something she couldn’t help.
When she saw him in person, she wasn’t certain she’d have the guts to say any of the things she’d been thinking. Or even if she should. A normal person wouldn’t have been hurt just because their friend decided to eat dinner elsewhere for a few days. But then, she wanted him to be more than her friend. She just wasn’t sure how much more.
The Salisbury steak succumbed to paper towels and some cleaning spray. Even in the garbage can, the gravy smelled so bad she took the trash out before she left. She’d been eating them for years and never remembered hating the scent before. Maybe the generic brand she’d bought this time had changed its recipe or something.
She hopped on Gracie bareback for the short ride so she wouldn’t have to take the trip over the hill alone. As they descended toward the ranch, the sun drooped low against the flank of the pine-fringed hills, sending golden light across the pastures that did nothing to warm the chill beneath her ribs.