Chapter Six
Cormac
The Past…
“It’s bad, Maccie.”
I gripped the phone, wishing I could shove myself through it so it was her hand I was holding instead. “I’m here. Tell me.”
Zara sniffled, her breath shuddering. “They won’t tell us the truth. I know they’re pretending it’s not as dire as it seems. But cancer is bad enough, right? She has to have surgery. Like, right away. And I—”
I heard her panic. I understood it. If it were my mom, I didn’t know how I’d handle it.
As it was, I was choking back tears. Zadie Vasquez was the nicest woman I’d ever met.
She didn’t deserve this. But I couldn’t get lost in my own feelings.
Zara needed me to be strong for her. I had to be the person she could lean on.
“Your dad won’t let anything happen to her. He’s got the best doctors, doesn’t he?”
What did I know? I was almost eighteen and had lived in the same small town my whole life. But I spoke like I knew everything because she needed to hear it. It made me feel better to say it too, even if we both knew it was only wishful thinking.
“Yeah. I think so. He doesn’t sleep, and he’s always making calls. I think my mom’s more worried for him than herself, which is crazy.” She let out a wet, humorless laugh. “If she dies, I don’t think he’ll survive it.”
“She’s not going to die, Z.”
“You don’t know that,” she whispered.
“I do. I’m sure of it.”
She didn’t say anything for a long moment then sucked in a ragged breath. “Can you keep talking to me? Tell me something good. Anything, Maccie. Just don’t hang up.”
“I won’t hang up. Promise.”
Seeing her shouldn’t have hurt like this. It’d been so long, so many years since we were friends…since she was the most important person in the world to me. We’d barely been more than kids, but dear god, I couldn’t even pretend seeing Zara wasn’t a direct punch to the gut.
I slipped my balled hands in my pockets. “Oh. Hi.”
She waved her knife. “Hi, Mac. Long time no see.”
Her deep-brown eyes darted over me, away, then back again.
She seemed nervous, which didn’t sit right on her.
Zara had always found a way to fit in wherever she went.
Hanging with the ranch hands, charming Gray at the diner, making frat boys trip over themselves on our college campus.
Now, she looked like she wasn’t sure she was in the right place.
“Yeah. A real long time.” Three years since I watched you marry a man nowhere near worthy of you. Did you see me? Did you care I was there? I cleared the thickness from my throat. “I guess you’re here.”
“Seems like it.” She looked down at the chopped carrot on the cutting board. “It’s still kind of surreal.”
Surreal was a good word for it. I never thought I’d be standing in this kitchen, talking to Zara like no time had passed.
Yet, here she was, golden in a tank top and cutoff shorts.
Purple shadows streaked beneath her eyes, and new lines around her mouth made me think she hadn’t gotten enough sleep and had done too much frowning recently.
My dad opened the fridge and peered back at me. “Want a beer, kid?”
Hell yes. Drinking beer in my parents’ kitchen was normal. Getting lost staring at the girl I’d been crazy about as a teenager wasn’t.
“Sure,” I replied.
He glanced at Zara. “You too, sweetheart?”
It took her a beat, but a sweet smile spread across her lips. “Yes, please. I’d love a beer.”
I forced myself to move forward, crossing the wood floor to my mother. Her eyes, which matched my own, slid over me. Her mouth was pressed into a tight line as she studied me.
“Hey, Mom.”
With a sigh, she opened her arms. “Come here, kid.”
She squeezed me a shade too tight, my bones creaking in her embrace, and whispered, “Try, Maccie. Please try.”
I froze, my breath getting stuck in my lungs until she hugged me a little harder, forcing it out. I’d never spoken to her about any of this, but she knew. Maybe it was her mom witchcraft, or maybe I had a habit of wearing my heart on my sleeve. Either way, she had always seen right through me.
Sighing, I nodded.
“Okay.”
The beer helped. Sitting at the table, getting some distance, even if it was just a few feet, helped even more.
Dad sat down across from me, cradling a beer. “Good day?”
“Busy, like always.” I rolled my bottle between my palms. “The Keller party arrived. They kept me on my toes all day.”
He grimaced. “Is Mrs. Keller hounding you already?”
“You could say that. She’s trying to rope me into going on a trail ride with her.” I sighed. “I’ll probably relent. I always do.”
Some of our guests thought the staff came as part of the exorbitant rates.
The Kellers had been coming every summer for the last decade, and Mrs. Keller was…
attached to me. She spent more time hanging around the front desk, trying to chat with me, than enjoying the resort’s amenities.
Fortunately, not all guests were as needy as she was. Otherwise, I’d never get my job done.
“You should take her on one Zara’s leading,” my mother said. “Check the schedule.”
My gaze landed on Zara. She was already looking at me, her brow pinched, and I cocked my head, curious about her expression. I was still wondering why she’d bolted out of Gray’s at the sight of me too, but had decided to add that to the stack of things I’d never ask.
The corner of her mouth quirked, and my gut plummeted, reminded too much of the old days, back when summers went way too fast and the time in between crawled.
“Do you remember how to ride?” I asked.
“I do. Riding in Oregon isn’t quite the same, but I’m pretty sure I can manage.” She grabbed the end of her long ponytail, wrapping the silky black strands around her fingers. “You might want to come along, just to make sure I’m up for the job.”
“I’m sure you’re up for the job in general. Handling Mrs. Keller is another story. You’ll need me there for that.”
“Is she terrible?”
“Needy. Very, very needy.” I set my beer down and rested my elbow on the table, turning my body fully toward her. “The resort is a whole other ball game to the ranch. I hope you’re prepared for it.”
“I think I’ll be okay. I can manage assholes with egos as big as their wallets—especially when I get to be outside all day while doing it.” She picked up her beer, peering at me as she took a long pull from the bottle.
I couldn’t stop the smile tugging at my mouth. “You used to say you’d live outside if you could.”
“That hasn’t changed.” Her tongue darted out to lick her upper lip. “I just stopped dreaming of that ever happening and accepted my fate as an office drone.”
My mom made a disgusted noise. “You’re too young to give up your dreams.”
Zara laughed. “I feel about a hundred. But I don’t think dreaming of spending my life outside is very practical.”
“Dreams don’t have to be practical.” My mom turned on the gas stove and grabbed a pan. “God, how boring would it be if I fantasized about wearing granny panties, eating salad for every meal, and going to bed at a sensible hour? I might as well crawl into my grave.”
Dad chuckled. “You’d still be sexy in granny panties.”
I closed my eyes, letting out a heavy breath. “Really? Not only is your son here, but we have a guest.”
He knocked me on the shoulder with the back of his hand. “Your mom brought up panties. It can’t be helped.”
“Besides,” Mom added, “Zara isn’t a guest. She’s family.”
“I think you guys are sweet,” Zara said. “You remind me of my parents, so I’m used to it.”
Mom folded her arms. “Thank you, darling. At least someone appreciates having parents who adore each other.”
I tossed my hand out. “I appreciate it, I promise. I’d just like to acknowledge it’s a little gross sometimes.”
Zara’s soft burst of laughter drew my eyes straight to her. I hadn’t heard that kind of laugh from her in so long. Years, really. The kind where her cheeks flushed and her eyes shone.
She shook her head, bringing her beer back to her lips. “I think we had this exact conversation when we were fifteen.”
Dad grunted. “Nice that some things don’t change.”
“Yeah.” Her smile faded slowly as she gazed at me from across the kitchen. “Most do. It’s a nice surprise to uncover things that haven’t.”
My mom put her hand on Zara’s shoulder. “The carrots are good, darling. I’ve got this. Why don’t you go sit down and enjoy your beer?”
Since arguing with Elena Kelly was useless, Zara reluctantly crossed the kitchen and took a seat at the table opposite me, her beer clutched in both hands. She leaned back, sliding down in her seat, looking small and tired. So damn tired.
It irritated me more than it should have, but this was all wrong. Everything about the situation: the dark circles under her eyes, my tied tongue…that slightly darker freckle on her cheek—a glaring reminder of the days I spent staring at it, imagining it would be the first place I kissed her.
“You said you’ve been riding back home?” Dad asked.
“I have.” Zara sat up, placing her beer on the table.
“I haven’t been working the last few months.
My career is a mess—actually, my life in general is a mess.
The only thing that made sense was to plant my feet in nature.
I started hiking again, and that led to getting back to riding.
Before I got here, I was going out a few times a week and teaching lessons. ”
“You stopped hiking?” The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them, but goddamn, I was too surprised to help myself.
“I did.” She tucked her hair behind her ear. “I haven’t really been myself for a while.”
“Good you’re in a place you can be you now,” Dad said.
“I hope so.” Zara offered him a wobbly smile. “When I was explaining to Zane why I wanted to spend my summer here—”
I laughed. “Let me guess—he didn’t get it.”
“Of course not.” Her laugh was breathy and soft. “Zane would build tunnels between every building in Portland to avoid setting foot outside if he could, and if he could have the summer he spent here wiped from his memory, he’d be more than amenable.”
Elena feigned a gasp. “I’m so offended. That boy spent more time helping me in my office than he did out on the ranch. I showed him a fabulous time.”
Zara snickered. “Those five minutes were too much for him.”
I shook my head. “I think the fly fishing was the nail in the coffin for him. He really didn’t like having to be in the river.”
“That didn’t help, for sure, but I think it was pretty much everything.” She sighed, a content smile tugging at her lips. “But the thing I told him before I left Oregon was I only have happy memories here, so I thought this would be the best place to really begin my fresh start.”
Dad raised his beer. “Hear! Hear! To new beginnings.”
She clinked her bottle against his. “Cheers to that.”
I tipped my beer toward hers. “To making more happy memories.”
She hesitated a beat before touching her bottle to mine. “To happy memories.”
Happy memories were good. Trouble was, a whole lot of mine centered around her.
Zara yanked my hand, pulling me into the woods. “Come on, Maccie. You’re so slow.”
“It’s raining. Don’t you think we should go back?”
She turned to laugh at me, raindrops trailing along her cheeks. “It’s the Pacific Northwest. If we stayed inside when it rained, we’d never get fresh air.”
She was smiling for the first time this week, so I wasn’t going to do anything to ruin it—not when I had to fly home in a few days and leave her here to handle her mom’s treatment on her own.
She wasn’t really on her own. She had her family, and they were great. But I wouldn’t be able to hug her whenever she needed it, and that was going to suck more than I could put into words.
She led me to the old rope swing by the river—the one we weren’t supposed to use because someone’s cousin had allegedly broken an arm. Slick with rain, the first time I jumped, it slid right out of my hands, dumping me face-first into the mud.
Zara laughed so hard, she clutched her stomach, wheezing, “Oh my god. If someone sees you, they’re going to think you’re some forest cryptid.”
I raised my muddy arms and groaned, coming for her. “I’m the mysterious Mudman of Oregon, haunting the forests.”
She yelped when I got too close and ran for the rope, swinging away with a battle cry.
When she swung toward me, I pushed her harder than she expected. She shrieked as the swing arced over the water, rain flying everywhere, her laughter echoing through the trees.
But she didn’t let go.
On the walk home, soaked and muddy and breathless, she slid her slippery fingers into mine like it was the most natural thing in the world.
“To the river and back,” I whispered.
She looked at me and smiled, but it was tinged with sadness. “To the river and back, Maccie.”
And I held on for as long as I could.
The rest of dinner was as painless as it could have been.
My parents carried the conversation, asking Zara about Zane’s job as a nurse and his husband, Steven, her parents, the job she’d be doing this summer, neatly skirting around Jackson and her old job, as if they’d all silently agreed it was a land mine best left alone.
I didn’t contribute much. I mostly watched Zara. Christ, I couldn’t help myself.
Seeing Zara like this—close enough to pass the bread, to hear the quiet hitch in her laugh—hit me harder than I’d been prepared for. It was a true mindfuck. There was no other word for it. Everything I’d been convinced had settled a long time ago was scrambling uncomfortably in my chest.
This wasn’t supposed to happen.
I was never meant to sit across a table from her again—never meant to catch her eye and have her smile back like nothing had been broken.
Our carved names were going to be smoothed over, just like time had done to the friendship I’d believed was unbreakable.
So why did I feel like I was back on that rope, swinging wildly and out of control, no idea where I’d land?
By the time dinner ended, my skin had grown too tight for me to sit still another second. I made my excuses and left quickly, the need to get out of that room urgent and overwhelming.
Something had cracked open inside me, and though I didn’t have a name for it, I was pretty damn sure it couldn’t be shut again. At least not while Zara was on the ranch.
I didn’t know what that meant, only that I couldn’t ignore it. I knew what I had to do, and hesitating or dragging it out wouldn’t be fair to anyone.