Chapter 10
Mallory
“I can’t believe he lied to me. It’s like I handed the him the knife and said, ‘any time now.’”
My sister looks at me as I fling my clothes into my suitcase. “That’s dramatic, which is my thing, not yours. You went with the information you had, and there’s nothing wrong with that. Isn’t that what we all do?”
Her words make sense, but they don’t penetrate the wall I’m building.
With each toss of clothing, I get more and more angry until I finally collapse backward on my bed, my feet hanging over the edge.
My hip aches the way it does when I’ve been standing for hours or when I’m carrying something heavier than luggage.
That’s what a car accident and carrying twins does to a woman’s body.
Kate joins me, and we both stare up at the slats to her bunk.
“There’s got to be a reason he kept his anonymity that has nothing to do with you.”
I ignore her.
“A guy doesn’t come off a world tour to work at a dude ranch under a fake name for no reason.” She takes my hand and squeezes.
I sigh and squeeze back. That’s the only acknowledgment I’ll give for her reasoning right now. We lay in the silence, my thoughts drifting to the last week. I knew he looked familiar. But his hair is different. He has a beard. He wears glasses.
Which are all the ways he tried to hide who he was.
And it’s not like he promised me anything. We made out a couple of times. He sang for me, and I drew for him. That’s it.
But it was nice. It felt like something.
And that’s what I’m really mad about. That I developed feelings for him, knowing it would end today. I just hadn’t expected it to end with secrets.
Ugh. I even showed him pictures of my boys, and he didn’t run.
That’s because he knew we would never happen.
But that doesn’t seem like something Cam would do.
Except he isn’t Cam, is he? He’s Walker James. Well, Cameron Walker James, but he said his name was Cameron Walker, and that’s an outright lie.
My eyes flick to my travel mug, the memory of the saloon popping into my head. Izzy called him famous.
“Doesn’t Bree work with Walker James? Isn’t that how we got front-row tickets to his concert?”
I turn my head toward Kate, whose eyes widen as clarity sets in.
“She and Izzy know who he is.”
Of course they do. Because that’s how this day is going.
I am on a girls’ trip with them. My boys spent time with their partners. I want to be angry at them, but surprisingly, I’m not.
“I understand why they didn’t say anything.”
“Me too.” Kate fiddles with the end of my braid as we lie on our sides. “And I bet they’ll have some answers for us if we want them.”
She’s asking if I want answers. And I love her for that. She knows that I do, but she’s really asking if I want to go there.
The cabin door opens with a flourish, Izzy’s voice echoing through the bedroom. “We’re in the main room packing up when you’re ready to talk.”
Kate raises one brow in question, and I nod, knowing I can’t avoid our friends forever.
I step into the main space and sit in one of the club chairs with my sister taking the other. Bree and Izzy move to the couch, sitting across from us, their faces apprehensive.
This wasn’t their lie, and I don’t like that they feel this way about talking to me.
“You okay?”
Kate goes to speak for me, but I shake my head and hold up my hand to stop her.
“I’m okay.” I think about everything… Cam’s lies, his fame, and his ties to these women I love so much. Oh, geez. I love them. When did this happen? I roll my head back and look at the ceiling, trying to find the right words. “You know I love you both, right?”
Bree’s cheeks turn pink as Izzy’s eyes become glassy. “We love you, too.” They both say this in sync, and we all laugh.
Bree fiddles with the piping on the sofa. “I wanted to tell you, but he had his reasons for being here. It wasn’t my place—” she turns to her sister, “—well, really our place, to share that with anyone. It had nothing to do with either of you.”
“And we made it clear we would tell you both on the trip home.”
Kate isn’t having it. “A little heads-up would’ve been nice before my sister started making out with the guy!”
“We didn’t know!” That’s Bree, flailing arms and all.
“I just thought he was kind of into you.” Izzy regards me thoughtfully. “I didn’t think you’d give him the time of day.”
“I tried that. Then I sketched his silhouette by the pond early one morning while he was playing guitar. We sort of clicked.”
“Is that what they call it these days?”
Kate throws a pillow at Bree, rolling her eyes as she tries not to laugh.
I digest their words, knowing it must have been hard for them to not say anything.
“This isn’t the end of the world, ladies. We’ve all had flings. We know how it goes.” But the looks on everyone’s faces tells me they’re not buying the act I’m putting on. Which is just as well. I don’t have the energy to keep up the facade.
Lucinda is on the phone when I walk into the main office, one finger raised in a just a moment gesture. I set my copy of our check-in receipt and keys on the counter and wait, my tote strap digging into my shoulder, the folded paper already in my hand.
When she hangs up, she pulls up our reservation without me having to say anything, the easy efficiency of someone who has done this ten thousand times.
“You’re checking out early?” Her kind eyes search mine. “Everything okay with your stay?”
“It was fantastic. I’m bringing my boys back next spring for toddler days.”
She brightens instantly. “I’m so glad.”
I sign where she indicates on the signature pad then slide my sketch across the counter while she’s emailing me the receipt.
She picks it up with both hands, and I watch her take it in.
Cam’s silhouette, the guitar, the water in front of him.
And I know the moment she understands what she’s looking at because her expression does something small and certain, the way people look when a thing they suspected turns out to be true.
“No note for Cam?” she asks.
“No note.”
She nods once, setting it carefully to the side as if it’s precious. “Safe travels, sweetheart.”
I’m out the door before she finishes the sentence.
The trail ride group is still filtering back when I reach the stables, horses and guests moving in that unhurried post-ride way, everybody a little sunburned and looser than they were this morning. I keep to the edge of it, hands in my hoodie pocket, until I find her.
Cinnamon is already in her stall, untacked, pulling at her hay net.
She hears me coming and turns, ears forward, nose over the stall door.
Nothing startles her. Not the sudden crack of a branch or a door swinging hard on its hinges. She just absorbs it and trusts that things are okay, which is something that took me the better part of a decade to learn how to do.
I pull out the apple slice and she takes it immediately, none of her usual ceremony, just hungry and glad to see me. I laugh a little at that, surprised by it, and scratch along her jaw while she chews.
“No manners today,” I tell her.
She leans her whole face into my hand, showing that she does have manners.
“You were one of the best parts of this trip, pretty girl.” My voice comes out a little wobblier than I expected. She blinks her long-lashed eye at me, and I press my forehead against her nose, just for a second, just long enough to say what I don’t have the words for.
I stay longer than I had planned. I tell myself it’s because of Cinnamon, because she’s warm and uncomplicated and she doesn’t know anything about this week except the parts that were good.
But mostly I stay because walking out of this stable means getting in that car, and getting in that car means the week is over, and I am not quite ready to be done being the version of myself I was out here.
The one who sketched strangers by moonlight and danced on riverbanks and didn’t think once about paintbrush inventory.
I give her my last apple slice and step back. “See you.”
I’m almost to the stable entrance when a familiar shadow stretches across the entryway.
Cam.
I reach the doorway just as he steps through it, and for the length of one breath we are three feet apart and completely still. His jaw is tight. His eyes find mine and stay there, and I feel the full weight of the unfinished thing between us settle in my chest like a stone finding the bottom.
I walk past him into the sun even though it doesn't feel very bright.