Chapter 17
Juliet
I have my answer at the ready.
No, I do not want to see Archer again.
But when I look over at him and find his eyes on mine, Teenage Juliet returns, taking the reins of my heart and veering it toward him.
Indelible marks have been left in his skin over the years, splaying out from his eyes like bursts of sunrays. His scruff trails partially down the ridges of his throat, and his hair is worn a little longer than when he first moved to Autumn Ridge.
They’re signs of his getting older, which reminds me that I’m older now, too. Older, wiser, and ready to move on.
His gaze narrows as if he can see my innermost thoughts, so I sit taller and ignore the pulsing in my arm and ankle. “Like you said, it’s for the best if we don’t.”
He doesn’t look like he believes my words. “Juliet...”
He falters when he glances beyond my shoulder, and his jaw tightens. I follow his gaze to a nearby hallway. Dad stands in the middle of it, speaking with Sharon Price. She’s worked as a nurse for as long as I can remember and is the mother of Maven—Ben’s ex—and Carson, the new dentist in town.
Sharon’s also single.
Dad says something to her quietly, and she laughs, using a hand to tamper it as she leans back against the wall in her black scrubs. He looks pleased for having made her laugh, delivering that confident expression of his as he tucks a casual hand in the back pocket of his slacks.
“Looks like you can save yourself a phone call,” Archer murmurs.
But I hardly hear. I’m too distracted by watching Dad flirt. My suspicions are right, then. He is dating again.
“That’s Sharon Price, right?” Archer asks.
I nod in silence.
“She’s booked to come horseback riding with her granddaughter soon.” He pauses. “I didn’t know your dad was dating anyone.”
“Neither did I.”
Archer’s gaze sears into the back of my head, but I can’t look away.
Lisa looked awfully chummy with him at the party on Friday. Will she be disappointed when she finds out Dad’s got someone else? Or does he like both the nurse and the secretary?
And why didn’t he tell me about either of them when I asked?
My thoughts bounce back and forth like a pinball machine, but I lose them all when Dad’s eyes casually drift down the hallway and settle directly on me.
Watching his expression change is like viewing an entire dramatization in two seconds. He shifts from a blank stare to surprise, then his whole face turns a dark red, and he takes an abrupt step away from Sharon.
She’s staring at me now, too, and while she looks mildly surprised, she doesn’t have the same look of being caught out like Dad does.
Well, Dad did.
The next act in this mini-play of his is apparently intolerance as he turns icy eyes on Archer and sweeps toward us, muttering a quick goodbye to Sharon, who walks away in the opposite direction.
“Here we go,” Archer says next to me.
His brow is set, and he stands in time for Dad to reach us.
“Juliet, why...” Dad’s words trail off as he sees the bandage on my arm. “What happened?”
Time to soothe Papa Bear again.
I forget about my twisted ankle and try to stand, but it swiftly gives way beneath me. I grunt, landing hard in the waiting chair. Dad gives me a look of concern, then deepens his accusatory stare at Archer.
“I just had a little accident, Dad. Don’t worry about it. Archer brought me here to make sure I was taken care of.”
“I’m sure he did,” Dad says. “What are the chances you’d be there for her again, Mr. Kade?”
Archer shrugs. “I guess I’m just available whenever she needs me.”
“What exactly were you doing to have caused my daughter to need to be seen at the hospital?”
“I think she can answer that for herself.”
They stand in front of me facing each other, and I sit between them, a toddler who can’t make eye contact with the adults.
No, wait. I am an adult. I’m more like the netting between two professional table tennis players—completely inconsequential and useless in preventing the ball from being lobbed from side-to-side.
“I’m asking you, Mr. Kade,” Dad continues.
“I’m aware of that, Mr. Mayor.”
Watching their battle of wills is a completely different experience than before. Dad’s disapproval is as clear as the flicker of rebellion in Archer’s eye.
I can understand why neither of them like each other, and if I wasn’t in pain right now, I’d probably do more to get them to see eye-to-eye. But I am in pain, and I want to leave this ping pong match before it gets any more heated.
“Juliet Monroe?”
The nurse at the door calls my name, and I release a pent-up breath. Both men look at the nurse, then back at me as if only now remembering I existed.
“Yeah, I’m still here. Can I get a hand up?”
They both reach toward me as if this is some synchronized swimming match—are we just going to hit all the Olympics sports now?—and I take both hands.
I’m lifted effortlessly into the air with only a slight twinge in my ankle. Dad’s hand is warm and comforting, as it has been my entire life.
But Archer’s touch unravels me.
My skin burns at his callused fingers, and his eyes connect with mine in a way that makes me think he feels it, too.
Get thee hence, crush.
I release my hold of him and give him a succinct nod. “Thanks, Archer. My dad can help me from here.”
His brows pull together, and his eyes narrow just a degree before he takes a step back. “Hope you feel better soon.”
“Me too.”
Dad gives him another look, then puts his arm around me and supports me as I hobble toward the awaiting nurse.
“Are you going to tell me what happened?” Dad mumbles.
“Just as soon as I get some pain meds.”
He nods and holds me tighter, making me all the more grateful for his support.
I greet the nurse and walk through the door, leaving the waiting room behind, but not before I steal a glance over my shoulder.
Surprise pulls at my stomach with a tight tug. Archer remains where I left him, his eyes on mine until the door closes behind me, and our gaze finally breaks.
Archer
As soon as the door shuts behind Juliet and her dad, a spark of regret burns inside me so furiously, my chest aches.
I was honest with her before—I didn’t want to hurt her. But it’s obvious I already have. I saw the wound inside those big, blue eyes of hers as clear as Lake Wiloughby. Just as clearly as I saw her admiration for me.
She and her dad have that in common, their expressions conveying their feelings perfectly.
I stare at the closed door a minute longer, debating whether or not to wait to talk to her when she comes out, but her dad isn’t going to let me anywhere near her now.
I’ve lost my chance to talk to her for good.
I can’t even think of a way to get back at the mayor, every prank falling flat in my dejected state.
Walking out of the hospital, I head to my truck. I can still smell subtle hints of her flowery perfume as I buckle and see the dusty boots left on the floor where she sat. I toss my hat onto the passenger seat, the emptiness of it mirroring the hollow hole inside me.
I really messed up. I didn’t tell her the full truth about wanting to see her again, and now it’s too late.
I put my car into reverse and leave the hospital and the Monroes behind.
Maybe this is for the best. As soon as Mr. Mayor finds out she got hurt on one of my horses, he’s going to be sending a full-fledged volley toward Horseshoe Holler, and I’m going to have to be ready to defend it.
I don’t have time to accomplish some side quest with Juliet.
Or do I?
No matter how loud my logic screams to flee from the woman, my gut—my instincts—continue to contradict it.
I’ve trusted those instincts for years and was kept safe and happy because of them.
Riding bulls, moving to Autumn Ridge, picking up a hitchhiker on the side of the highway just outside of town.
Right now, my gut is telling me to not let go of Juliet.
Battle or not. Crush or not. Mayor Monroe or not. This girl is something special. I can feel it.