17. Chapter Seventeen
The smell of fried tortillas and spicy beef fills the air as I help myself to a couple of Allsup’s world-famous burritos. I don’t actually know whether they’re world-famous or not, but I do know you’re not a true Texan until you try one.
I only stopped by to put some gas in my tank and grab a Dr. Pepper, but since my stomach was growling, I figured, why not start my day with a convenience store breakfast of champions?
It’s a great Saturday until I overhear a conversation I wish I wouldn’t have.
“And did you hear what happened at the reunion?” I poke my head over the donut display to see the store clerk, Tammy Fenner, spreading our business to Tina Martinez, the high school softball coach, like she’s talking about the weather.
“I hear they were getting pretty cozy on the dance floor, and someone even saw her leaving his room the next morning,” Tina replies, and I swear I’ll never understand this town’s thrill for scandal.
Lucky for me, I’m not here for gossip. I’m here for an ice-cold forty-four ounce and a deep-fried beef and bean burrito.
“Morning, ladies,” I chirp as I round the corner and drop my wallet on the counter.
“Oh—! Morning, Henry.” Tammy’s voice jumps about two full octaves when she sees me, and Tina nods, pressing her mouth to form a tight, thin line.
I pull out a crisp five-dollar bill and leave it on the counter. “Keep the change.”
“Thank you, Henry!” Tammy sings behind me as I head for the door while Tina stands there gawking.
Once outside, I climb into my truck, unwrapping the burrito as I settle in. The first bite is heaven, with beans, cheese, and meat melding perfectly. It’s almost enough to make me forget how naive some people are.
I steer the truck back onto the road heading home and, with every mile, try to figure out a way to tackle these rumors once and for all. If only my gut weren’t telling me these rumors weren’t just getting started.
Once I finish a few chores back at the ranch and get Asher set up with mucking out the stables, I set out to deliver a case of farm-fresh goat’s milk to Mrs. Taylor.
When I pull into the drive, Rose is sitting on the porch with Toby.
“Hey, Henry! What are you doing here?” Her smile is warm enough to make me forget all about this morning’s run-in.
“Just dropping off some milk for your mom. She inside?”
“Sure, come on in.” Toby greets me at the base of the porch steps, sniffing my crate of mason jars with wide eyes while Rose gets the door.
“Is that you, Henry?” I hear Jane Taylor call from the kitchen. “I packed you up a few jars of apple butter for all your troubles.”
“No trouble at all,” I say, placing the crate on the counter. “Just make sure you save me some of that cheese you make.”
“Oh, you know I always do.” She wipes her hands on her apron and peers out the back window. “It’s such a beautiful day out. You and Rose should take a walk. There’s plenty of shade in the orchard this time of day.”
I look back at Rose, who’s still standing by the front door, and shrug. “I’m down if you are.”
Rose smiles and nods. “I’ll need to change shoes first. Go ahead and load your truck, and I’ll meet you out back in a few.”
Toby follows me back to the truck and sniffs my tire just before lifting his leg.
“Hey!” I catch him mid-stream, and he looks up at me unphased. “Fine. Don’t let me stop you,“ I mutter. I slide the brown paper sack of jars across the seat of my cab, then throw a blanket over it and shut the door. “Come on, boy. Let’s go for a walk.”
“Over here, Henry!” Rose’s voice floats through the trees when we round the corner into the backyard. Only this time, Toby’s leading the way.
We find her sitting on an old wooden bench, gazing up into a tangle of branches overhead, and there’s no hiding the lines of worry on her forehead.
“Hey,” I say softly. “Mind if I join you?”
“Of course not.” She scoots over, making room for me on the bench while Toby makes a bed in the grass.
We sit silently for a moment, listening to the buzz of cicadas fill the air. I have a mind to bring up what I heard at Allsup’s, but before I can find the words, Rose lets out a sigh that seems to carry the weight of the world.
“I talked to Julie this morning.” Avoiding eye contact, she runs her fingers through the thick mane of hair draped over her shoulder. “Apparently, I should be walking the streets with a scarlet letter.”
“Rumors are like weeds,” I say, trying to keep the mood light. “They pop up everywhere and don’t need much to grow.”
The sound of her laugh eases some of the tension between us, even if it’s short-lived. “That’s one way to put it.”
“Listen, Rose,” I start, but she beats me to the punch.
“Have you heard anything?” Her deep blue eyes lock onto mine.
“I might’ve caught wind of something this morning,” I admit, hating to add to her distress but not wanting to lie either. “But you know better than to let it get you down, right?”
“Yeah, I guess. But it’s still overwhelming.” She bites her lip, looking just as vulnerable as she is beautiful. “This town...”
“It can be a real pain in the rear,” I finish for her with a chuckle. “But that’s what you’ve got me for.”
“Thanks, Henry.” She leans into me, resting her head on my shoulder. “For making me laugh when I feel like crawling under a rock.”
“Anytime.”
“Actually,” she hesitates, her voice suddenly serious, “I’ve been thinking... maybe it would be good for me to get away from Sugar Plum for a while.”
“Get away?” The words hit like a sack of feed dropped heavy in my gut.
She nods. “Yeah, I mean, I still have access to my database of clients. I can work from anywhere. “ She looks out over the orchard, her eyes tracing the rows of trees stretching toward the horizon.
“Anywhere but here,” I say quietly, feeling a familiar ache start to take root.
“Maybe just for a bit,” she adds quickly, as if saying it any faster will help soothe the burn. “Just until things cool down.”
“Sure,” I mutter, trying to muster up a smile. I glance at my watch—a cheap move made by a desperate man. “Speaking of cooling down, Asher’s probably waiting on me to relieve him for the day. I should get back to the ranch.”
“Of course,” she says, though I can tell by her face she’s onto me. “We can talk later?”
“Yep.” But even as I turn to leave, I’m not sure when later will come.
Driving back to the ranch, my mind drifts like an untethered balloon. Every bump in the road jolts a memory loose. First, it’s Camille’s gentle touch fading away with her last breath fourteen years ago. Then, it’s Gemma’s laughter bouncing off the walls before she left for New York, followed by the eight years of silence that took over completely. And somehow, it always circles back to Rose—the one who got away.
I curse under my breath and thump the steering wheel. When people make up their minds to leave, there’s nothing the rest of us can do to stop them. I should know better than to hope for anything different.
But as the truck rumbles beneath me, carrying me further away from Rose, I can’t shake my fear of history repeating itself.
The next day, I stroll into Larry’s hardware store with a list of supplies to distract my mind from yesterday’s conversation with Rose. The air is filled with its usual smell of sawdust and rubber, but the sound of Larry’s voice grabs my attention first.
“Did you hear about Rose?” He leans over the counter and smiles like he’s about to share the most exciting thing that’s happened since the United Supermarket ran out of turkeys a week before Thanksgiving last year.
“Can’t say that I have,” I reply coolly.
Larry lowers his voice, though it does little to hide his enthusiasm. “Word is, she’s using you to get back at Jace for stealing money from their business.”
“Stealing money?” My grip tightens around a pack of nails I’m holding. Rose only told me yesterday, and I know she’s too smart to tell anyone else besides Julie or her parents, maybe. “Who’s saying that?”
“News article out of Dallas this morning,” Larry says, tapping his phone. “Says the Attorney General is shutting down their business, and her big city husband is being investigated for fraud.”
Rage bubbles up like a geyser ready to blow. “And you believe that garbage?”
“Hey, don’t shoot the messenger.” Larry holds up his hands. “But you have to admit, it looks bad.”
“First off, Rose would never use someone like that. Especially me. And the rest is no one’s business,” I snap.
“Oh, come on. Don’t get all salty on me,” Larry smirks. “Anyone with eyes can see you have real feelings for her, but we both know that’s not what people around here will talk about.”
“Why? Because she left?“ I raise my voice, but only because I know I’m the only customer in the store. “She’s still one of us. And more people should start acting like it.”
“Hey, now. Take it easy.” Larry stiffens. “We both know how rumors get twisted around here.”
“Exactly,” I say, letting my jaw slack. “Remember when everyone thought you were leaving Diane for that florist?”
“Point taken,” Larry concedes. “Look, all I’m saying is that if you really care about her, give her some space until this all blows over. Otherwise, you’re just making things worse. For her and for you.”
After he finishes ringing me up, I head out to my truck, feeling more conflicted than ever. It’s bad enough that Rose is thinking about leaving again, but staying away from her doesn’t feel right, either. Still, I can’t help but wonder if Larry has a point. Even Rose thought it was a good idea to distance ourselves. I’m just too stubborn to listen.
I slam the door shut inside the cab, letting the sound echo off the empty space around me. I turn the key and idle the engine, my thoughts racing. The worn leather of the wheel beneath my calloused hands should remind me I’m in control, but today, it feels like another thing slipping through my fingers.
Back at the ranch, I hop out of the truck and roll up my sleeves, needing to lose myself in something tangible. Working up a sweat to the tune of physical labor sounds way better than thinking about all the rumors and accusations I can’t protect her from.
I grab a hammer and the fresh box of nails and set to repair the fence that lines the south pasture. I’m halfway through driving a particularly stubborn nail into a post when my phone buzzes in my pocket. I know who it is before I even pull it out.
Rose.
The screen lights up with her name, and for a fraction of a second, my heart does something foolish. It leaps. But just as quickly, I shove the feeling down, forcing my thumb to press the ‘ignore’ button. The call goes to voicemail, and I toss the phone onto the grass beside me as I turn back to the fence.
I swing the hammer harder this time, letting the sun beat down on my back while I try to convince myself that I don’t care about missed calls and what might have been.
If I want to protect her, I need to let her go.