9

“You don’t know me anymore.” I know my words come out harsh, but I can’t help it with her. I am angry at her. There are so many reasons for me to be upset. The biggest one being I hate that after all these years apart, I still feel an intense pull toward her. “You don’t know what my looks mean. Maybe that’s just how I always look.”

“Cade,” she says with an exhale. Fuck. I hate my name coming from her lips. I want to demand that she never says it again. That way I never have to hear the sweet and sultry way it sounds coming off her tongue, even when it’s laced with a disappointed tone.

Unable to resist, I pick up a strand of her hair, rubbing the end of the long tendril between my thumb and index finger. “I hate that you’re here. It’s you—but it’s not really you,” I answer hoarsely.

“I’m still me, Cade.”

I shake my head, focusing on the darker strands of hair. She’s all big city and no longer small town. The city doesn’t fit her. Not the way the small town does. “No. You aren’t. You’re not Goldie. I don’t know who you are anymore, but it isn’t the same girl that left. Not the one I—” I cut myself off before I say something I’ll come to regret. Dwelling on the past does nothing for either of us. It won’t change things.

For the slightest moment, my knuckle runs over her exposed collarbone. It’s over as quick as it began. She swats my hand away, her narrow fingers wrapping around my wrist to keep me away. “Years have gone by. I’m not a teenage girl anymore. Of course I’ve changed in that regard.” Her blue eyes stare into mine. “But deep down, it’s still me.”

I take a step back, needing to get away from her. My boots are loud against the hardwood as I put distance between us. My eyes quickly look her up and down. With a disapproving sigh, I shake my head. “I think it’d hurt worse if you came back the same person. The Goldie I knew would’ve come back, would’ve visited. Maybe I’m relieved you're not the girl I used to know.”

Her eyes go wide. She blinks, trying to keep her emotion at bay. She’s terrible at it. She’s never been able to hide her feelings. I guess that’s still the same about her. Her bottom lip trembles. Her mouth opens like she wants to say something, but she must decide against it. Quickly, she turns around and rushes up the large staircase, leaving me standing alone in the kitchen.

We both know my words were harsh. The hidden meaning behind them was clear. She should’ve been home more. It broke my mom’s heart that she never came back to visit. It was low of me to bring attention to it, but it needed to be said.

Really, I’m just angry with her because not only did she leave this place and leave Pippa and my mom behind—but she left me, too. And even though I told her to go all those years ago, I never could’ve imagined she’d take me so seriously.

7

MARE - AGE SIXTEEN

I LOVE A COLORADO WINTER, but there’s something about a Colorado summer that makes it so I can’t imagine ever living anywhere else. With the sun no longer in the sky, the air that kisses my skin is cool and refreshing. The only thing that lights up the trees in the clearing around us is the full moon above us.

One of the horses whinnies behind us. Cade looks over to where they munch on grass not too far from where we sit. Looking away from the horses, his focus turns to me. Even with the chill in the night air, I feel hot under his heated stare.

“You’re quiet.” He pulls his hat from his head, tossing it into the grass next to him. It gives me the opportunity to take in the shaggy mess that is his chestnut hair. His momma keeps telling him to cut it, but he always finds an excuse not to. There’s a slight indent around it from the cap. He runs a hand through the strands, tousling it. His movement brings me back to attention.

“Maybe I’m just tired.”

Cade stretches his legs in front of him, leaning back on his elbows. He’d offered to lay a blanket down, but I’d declined. I liked the feeling of the grass against my skin. It makes me feel free but nothing could make me feel more free except the smirking boy right next to me.

“You look forward to your birthday all year. Something tells me you feel more awake than ever.”

I mimic his position, except instead of propping myself on my elbows, I lay all the way down. Blades of grass tickle my neck as I move my hair out from underneath me. My hands fold over my belly as I get comfortable.

“Am I wrong about that?” he presses.

My gaze moves from the bright, blue moon and turns to look at him. He watches me intently, his hair almost covering his eyes from its shaggy length. “Maybe you know me better than I thought.”

I stop myself from admitting that the reason I feel more alive—more awake—than ever right now isn’t because we’re minutes away from my birthday. It’s because I’m out here with him. This clearing has always been one of my favorite places in the world. I picture it as the same clearing Momma used to tell me about. The one with the field of marigolds that resulted in my namesake.

Every one of my nerve endings are awake, my brain the most alert it’s ever been, because of the way the air feels different around us. I rub my lips together in an attempt to hide the wide grin that threatens to overtake my face.

“Of course I know you, Goldie,” he responds, his tone offended. “Did you expect something different?”

I shrug, turning my attention back to the moon high above us. The stars are putting on a show tonight. They twinkle, as if they’re as excited as I am for what the late night will bring. “You just haven’t been around much lately.”

Things seemed to shift right after he graduated high school. Truly, things may have already been changing before that. Regardless, him graduating really changed things. For starters, I no longer spent every weekday morning in his truck, singing along to whatever new song he’d found the night before. I hadn’t realized how much I cherished those early mornings with Cade, Pippa, and me until they were gone. Even summer mornings are different. He’s awake before all of us, already out helping his dad around the ranch by the time we make it downstairs for breakfast.

“You know I’ve got to work,” he answers, his elbow bumping into mine as he lays all the way down next to me.

I bite my tongue. He does have to work. It isn’t the workday that has me missing his presence. It’s the time between work and bedtime that we used to see him more. Now, he quickly showers and leaves the ranch to hang out with his friends. I don’t always know what he’s up to or where he is, all that matters is that he isn’t home like he used to be.

Not that I have the right to admit that I wish he’d be home more. He’s nineteen and works his days away. He deserves to go out and have fun. I’m just jealous that I’m not part of that.

Cade sighs, the sound loud and dramatic compared to the quietness of the clearing. “Say whatever you’re thinking. You’ve got your lips pressed so thin I know you’re dying to say something.”

Damn. Maybe he does know me well. I don’t want to prove him right. Mostly, I don’t want him to know how much it bothers me that he’s gone. I’m left lying in bed every night wondering if he’s off with Rhiannon. Or maybe some other girl from our town. He could even be with a tourist, someone visiting for the summer.

“Mare.” My name is said as a warning.

“It’d just be nice to see you more. That’s all.” I turn toward him, propping my body up using my elbow as my hand cradles my cheek.

He watches me carefully. His eyes travel over my hairline, down my cheeks, and pauses for the slightest moment on my lips before he makes eye contact once again. “You’re seeing me right now.” His voice is low and husky. I don’t know why it’s said so quietly with no one else around.

Heat flushes in my cheeks. “Yeah, but you’re only here because you feel bad for me.”

A dark look passes over his features. In one swift motion, he sits up, leaning closer to me with a serious look on his face. My body freezes when he reaches into the space between us and tucks a piece of hair behind my ear. It’s something he’s done before as an innocent act. Your hair is always in your eyes, Goldie. One of these days you’re going to take a horse right into a ditch because your hair is in the way. His constant gripes about my hair rush through my mind.

It doesn’t seem as innocent right now. Maybe it’s because, for the slightest moment, his fingers paused against my cheek before his hand fell back into his lap. His breath tickles the tip of my nose when he exhales. “You’re giving me more credit than I deserve. I’m not that nice. If I didn’t want to be here, I wouldn’t be here.”