Chapter 3
M y hands are raisins. I’ve washed the last breakfast dish a hundred times. I tell students night and day to focus. But Trace has stripped my composure away, leaving my mind a tangled mess. I jump when my phone buzzes. My cousin Bryan's name flashes on the screen, and I hesitate before answering.
“Hey, you busy?”
"No," I reply, glancing at the spotless kitchen. "What's up?"
"I need you to stop by Arrow Trucking," he says casually, but the underlying curiosity is hard to miss. "Arroyo insisted you pick up the donation check."
I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose. "Then you insist that I don't. It's not my job, Bryan."
"I know, but the man obviously has some kind of crush on you. God knows why. Why else would he pay five thousand for those brownies? And cousin, I love your brownies."
I don't respond, biting my lip instead.
He continues, his tone softening. "Look, you're just picking up a check. We're trying to keep our new partner happy, right?"
"I'm sorry, but... how the hell did the Barkleys end up working with Trace, anyway?"
“He reached out to us. Said he was looking for a place to expand his trucking business. He’s expanding from a single operator to a fleet. We discussed our needs and what he’s able to provide. Noel, it’s a perfect match.”
“But the family didn’t discuss it. You never brought it to the table.”
“You guys wanted nothing to do with distribution. Your exact words were, handle it, Bryan. We trust you. So, I handled it. I met with Trace several times, and I think he’s a good guy—”
“—Yeah, right.” I scoff, then curse myself for reacting.
He clears his throat, clearly uncomfortable with my reaction. “Noel… what’s the deal with you and him? He says he worked for Barkley Farms ten years ago. That would have been the summer Ryan and I were in baseball camp. I remember that summer. I remember coming home, and you were different. Changed. Sad. Was it him?”
I freeze, bracing myself on the edge of the sink. I never discuss that summer. It was another life, another person. Trace made me laugh and feel seen for the first time. He took my heart and my innocence, and then he was gone. No explanation. No goodbye.
“Yes,” I whisper. The one word releasing a floodgate of memories. Warm evenings in the barn, stolen kisses, vows of eternal love. Vows that turned out to be one-sided.
“What do you want me to do?” Bryan growls. “Do you want me to rip up the contract, Noel? I can go down there and shove it down his throat.”
I smile. He and Ryan have always stood up for me, even when I didn’t ask for it. I shake my head, even though he can’t see me.
“No. I need to figure out what he’s up to. What the hell is he doing here? I need to know, Bry.”
Bryan’s quiet for a beat. “Okay,” he finally says. “You’ve got your reasons, I get it. But I’m telling you, Noel, if you want me to take care of him… just say the word.”
“Thanks.” Bryan is a big guy. He played college football and one year in the pros before returning to Bear Ridge. He stays in the gym like it’s his church. But even with his athletic prowess, I doubt he can best Trace. Trace’s muscles weren’t built by a machine. I sigh, rubbing my forehead. “I’ll be fine.”
"Alright," Bryan agrees. "But remember, you're Noel-freaking-Barkley. You're so far out of his league; he shouldn't even be playing."
I hang up. I have to meet with Trace. The thought jolts me more than a morning coffee. There's no denying it—the guy still gets under my skin. I hate that he has this power over me. But Bryan’s right. I changed. I’m not the same girl who cried for months after he disappeared. He needs to understand I didn’t just sit around waiting for his return.
I grab my keys, resolve hardening within me. Today, I’ll get the answers I need.
***
The drive to Arrow Trucking takes me beyond the familiar confines of Bear Ridge, out toward the interstate that slices through miles of open countryside. I’m rarely this far from town, so I’m shocked by the transformation Trace has accomplished. I pull into the freshly plowed parking lot of the once-abandoned strip mall, and what I see steals my breath.
The derelict buildings now have facades that gleam under the winter sun. Six eighteen-wheeler trucks, each proudly displaying a blue-and-gold arrow logo, stand in a line like sentinels at the opposite end of the lot. They rest near a newly constructed warehouse, where two forklifts load cargo.
I understand why everyone’s excited about this development; this industry could breathe new life into our small town. But unease settles in my stomach as I gaze upon the bustling hub. Why would Trace choose Bear Ridge, of all places? Is it just business or something more?
Taking a deep breath, I square my shoulders before stepping out into the crisp air. The scent of diesel and freshly cut lumber powers through the cold, assaulting my nostrils. Inside, the office is surprisingly polished. Everything is neat and controlled—so different from the Trace I used to know. The boy who won my heart, then vanished with the trophy.
A receptionist directs me to his office. As I approach, my pulse quickens. I hesitate for a fraction of a second before pushing the door open.
Trace sits behind a massive desk. A plaid shirt covers his broad shoulders, and his sleeves are rolled up to the elbows. He looks more like a driver than the owner. He shouldn’t look like he’s posing for the title of Sexiest Man Alive. But he does, because, well— he is .
When I enter, those intense dark brown eyes lock onto mine. For a moment, neither of us speaks. "Hey, Noel," he says, his voice deep and steady. "I was starting to wonder when you'd get here."
A dimple winks for a second. Its quick flash whisks me to that place—back to The Old Barn, with the warmth of his smile and the way his hand used to brush against mine like it meant something. Our days in the barn are a guarded secret. No one else knows why I was so passionate about keeping it. But after everything I lost, I couldn’t bear the thought of losing the one place where, for a time, I’d felt unconditionally loved.
I cross my arms and stare at him, fighting the emotional waves churning through my body. Anger. Confusion. Then, back to anger. He doesn’t get to make me feel like this again, not after everything he did.
“Why?” I demand. “Why the hell are you back here? Why are you doing this? What do you want from me, Trace? Didn’t you already take everything I had to give?”
Silence answers. His expression is unreadable. But something in his eyes—something raw and familiar—tightens my chest. He leans against the desk, folding his arms like he’s studying me and trying to figure out what I’m thinking.
“I’m here to make something of myself,” he says, his voice steady, but there’s an edge to it. “Trying to build something for my family and my future. I’m done drifting. I’ve been an outsider in every farm, town, and city I’ve ever lived in. Even though I’ve traveled every inch of this country, I’ve never belonged anywhere. So, now I’m claiming a piece of it for myself. Sinking roots and burying them into the core of the earth.”
“Is that what this is? You’re nesting? And why, of all places, did you choose to settle here? The one place you disappeared from and never looked back.”
“Because of you.” Three words that shock me into silence. His hair has fallen over his forehead, and a vein pulses there. “You want to know what I want? I want what I never should have given up. Never. Yes, coming back here makes me an asshole. I should just let you live your life. I would have moved on if you’d been married and had a lover. But I find you stuck. Maybe you’re like me. Tried to find love and couldn’t. No matter whose arms you’re in, they aren’t the right arms because nothing is right. Because we’re not holding each other. So, I’m done running. I know where I belong. It’s in this sorry-ass small town that barely accepts people who look like me. But they’re going to have to get over it because I’m not going any fucking where. Not again. I want a home. And I want it with you.” His words sound romantic, but his look is anything but.
“Wh… Wha, What?” I’m winded. My breath comes in pants and gasps as I try to understand… What the hell? It’s the look on his face that brings it all rushing back. He doesn’t look contrite. He looks certain, assured that he only has to look in my direction, and I’ll fall right back into his arms like he never vanished. A rocket blasting off doesn’t heat faster than I do. I step toward him, my voice rising with the fury that’s been building inside me for years.
“You could have had a home here with me. But you decided a long time ago that I wasn’t worth it. You don’t get to walk that back now.”
His jaw tightens. But I’m not done. Not yet.
“Tell me, Trace,” I continue, my voice dangerously quiet. “Was it a game to you? Did you ever care about me? Was I a joke? A way to get back at the owner’s daughter. Just a means to an end?”
His face hardens instantly, and pressure builds in the room like a storm cloud about to burst. “No,” he growls, his voice low and controlled, but I see the anger flash in his eyes. “No, you weren’t a joke, Noel. You were never a joke. You were the only real thing in my life. And I’ll be damned if I let you think otherwise.”
Once again, I’m winded. I’ve never experienced an angry Trace. And he’s beautiful. Fierce and proud. His blazing eyes are otherworldly. For a moment, everything goes still. The words that almost spilled from my lips die in my throat. He walks closer, his movements deliberate, and every instinct inside me tells me to pull back. But I can’t.
“Tell me again, Noel,” he growls in a voice that unfurls in my belly like a waking snake. “Tell me again that I didn’t want you. Tell me I wasn’t thinking about you every damn day.”
I open my mouth, but the words die before they’re born. He steps forward again, the space between us shrinking until I can feel the heat radiating off his body. My pulse quickens, a mix of anger and something dangerously close to desire. We're so close now that I can see the flecks of gold in his eyes..
“Say it, Noel,” he whispers, his lips so close to mine that his breath warms my skin. “Say that I didn’t want you, that it was all a game. That it didn’t tear me apart to walk away from you.”
I open my mouth to speak, but before I can, he grabs me—his hands fierce and urgent, like he’s been holding back for far too long. His lips crash onto mine with a force that leaves me breathless, and everything else fades.
The anger, pain, and years of not knowing all disappear in the heat of his kiss. My body reacts before my mind can catch up, responding to him like a wound finally healing. I’m resistant at first, unsure whether to pull away or give in. But when his hands slide into my hair, pulling me closer, I release the tension I’ve been holding onto for years.
Fuck resistance, nineteen-year-old Noel demands.
This kiss—it’s nothing like I remember. It’s not sweet or hesitant; it’s desperate, almost violent in its intensity. And when I kiss him back, it’s like everything we were, everything we could have been, pours into this one moment. The kiss that never happened when I wanted it most. The kiss that, for all the time apart, makes me feel like we never were.
And when he pulls away, my breath coming in ragged gasps, I’m shaken and reeling. My chest is tight with something I can’t name, don't trust.
He holds my gaze. His chest matches mine as our shoulders heave. His next words are low, jagged. “If you want to know why I left, Noel… ask your father.”
The words hit me like a slap. I feel the punch in my chest, a fresh wound opening up. I was expecting something, but not this. Anger and confusion all come rushing back.
I step back, my mind scrambling to process everything. My heart is pounding, but my thoughts are foggy. Why would I ask my father about this when the only thing I’ve ever gotten from him is indifference?
“I don’t know why you’re being so cryptic. This isn’t about him. It’s about us…” I look down at the check, sitting on the edge of his desk. Mocking me and the supposed reason I came here. I pick it up, satisfied that I’ve completed my errand.
His words stop me from turning and walking away. “I never wanted to leave you,” he says, his voice rough, like it’s tearing him up to say it. “I never wanted to hurt you.”
I shake my head, though the pain in his voice scratches my own. I steel myself against it. “You don’t get it,” I say. “I don’t care what your reasons were. I can’t forgive you.”
“I’m not asking for forgiveness, Noel. I’m only hoping that one day, you’ll understand.”
“Understand what?” Something hot and bitter lands on my hand. Dammit, I’m crying. But it doesn’t stop me. Because I can’t hold back anymore. “I trusted you. I loved you. And you left without a word. There’s no getting past that.” I wipe my face and take a deep breath. “You knew about the problems I had with my father. Knew that my father made me feel worthless. I didn’t need you to do it too.”
For a second, Trace looks like he’s about to say something, but the words don’t come. His jaw clenches, and his eyes flick to the side like he’s searching for the right thing to say. Then he repeats it. The thing that cuts me deeper than anything else.
“Ask your father,” he repeats, his voice tight. “Ask him why I had to leave. He was the one who made me.”
My chest seizes. The world spins, and for a moment, I can’t breathe. My hands tremble. I want to scream at him. But all those years of being the good girl. The polite girl pays off. I remain composed, refusing to give him any more of my breakdown.
“Don’t you dare,” I whisper, voice shaking with the weight of it all. “Don’t you dare make it his fault. Because this is on you. You.”
His eyes hold mine. Not hold, lasso, and pull. Squeezing the breath from my lungs with their intensity. Then he says in a flat voice, “I know how much it killed you because it killed me too. There are excuses and reasons for everything. So, I won’t give you excuses.” His gaze hardens, and all traces of softness vanish. “As for the reason.. .” He grinds the next words out.
“Ask. Your. Father.”