Chapter 22 #2
However long it was, it wouldn’t be enough.
“That’s no problem,” he said.
I looked over at him, but he was staring at his knees. “Really? You’ll still be in town?”
“Yeah.”
I tried to think of another approach that would get me more information. Maybe asking him directly? There was an idea.
“I’m not going back.”
My legs stopped swinging, and my gaze swung to his.
He met it, smiling wryly. “Don’t look so excited.”
I let out a breathy laugh. “Are you serious? You’re staying? For good?”
He nodded.
I’d asked my sequence of questions and now didn’t know what to say. I’d gone fishing and caught a whale. What did you do with a whale?
“I’ve been away long enough. I want to be here now.” His gaze held mine.
I swallowed, completely still. Was he—? Did he mean—?
He broke his gaze away. “The farm needs me. So does Mama.”
I let out a breath, half-relief, half-disappointment. “I bet she’s over the moon.”
He smiled and watched his feet again, which were swinging gently. “Enough to make up for how everyone else will feel?”
“Don’t say that. Tate and Liv were happy to see you. Bennett and Dom too. They’ll be glad you’re staying.”
It was quiet for a few seconds.
“And what about you?”
My heart skipped a few beats, and I forced a laugh. “We’ve been over this. You’re my friend.” I bumped his shoulder with mine. “Of course I’m glad you’re staying.”
Understatement of the year.
James would be in Autumn Ridge for good. I wouldn’t have to try to remember his smile or his laugh. They’d be just down the road.
“Me staying is complicated for you, though,” James said. “Much more than it is for Tate or Dom.”
I shrugged like I didn’t think much of it—like I hadn’t been living the thought for weeks. “It’s been eight years.”
“And he still hates me.”
My heart raced. This was the first time we’d talked more directly about what had happened between Ryan and him.
I had so many questions. Questions I wouldn’t have dared ask James when he’d first returned to Autumn Ridge.
But we were friends now, and what were friends if you couldn’t have the tough conversations?
“The fact that he does is a testament to how much your friendship meant to him.”
James searched my face, a flicker of hope in his eyes.
I lifted a shoulder. “Twisted but true.”
He sighed and let his head fall back so he was looking up at the sky.
“I miss him. A lot. Most of my memories here include him.” His mouth pulled into a smile.
“You know, he was the one who released those chickens into the school our sophomore year. And the one who covered the mayor’s car in plastic wrap. ”
I listened to the nostalgia with my own little smirk. I could have rattled off a whole list of other things Ryan and James had done together back in the day.
But I didn’t want to do that. I wanted to ask him the question that had been inside me for years. “Why’d you do it?”
James’s body went still.
The question was out. The question I’d been asking silently for eight years.
I felt a tinge of speaker’s remorse. Maybe our friendship was too new to handle this level of directness.
“Sorry,” I said. “I just…want to understand.”
James’s eyes fixed on me, keen. He opened his mouth, then shut it, the muscles in his jaw flexing as he stared back down at his glass. “I made choices I shouldn’t have.”
“What were you about to say?” Apparently, I’d given up any and all thought of respecting his privacy. I was desperate to see into his thoughts.
He took a sip from his tea, then turned the glass distractedly. “Nothing.”
I wanted to push—push until he blurted it out—but Liv and Tate emerged from the trees.
“Looks like they escaped the tigers,” I said, sliding to the ground and waving at them as I tried to ignore my disappointment.
James didn’t say anything, gathering the tea glasses and pitcher silently, and I felt a sting of guilt. Not just for prying but for putting him in a more somber mood.
Why’d you do it?
I cringed at my question.
James took the tea to the house while I made sure everything was ready for the ride back to Horseshoe Holler.
I asked Liv and Tate how their stroll had been, noting Liv’s cheeks, which were pinker than they’d been earlier. I hoped they were the result of a really great kiss.
Jealousy pricked me.
I guess I had Kiss the Pig to look forward to.
The ride back to the stables was quieter than the one to the maple farm, with a few attempts at conversation between us and them. When we reached our destination, Liv and Tate thanked us, then headed out.
Archer’s group wasn’t back from their trail ride, making the stables quieter than usual.
James helped me unhitch the horses, water them, and brush them down in their stalls, sparing me half the work I’d have otherwise had.
As I brushed down Chewie, I stole a peek into the next stall.
James might have made a selfish choice eight years ago, but now, he was anything but selfish.
“Thank you for doing all of this,” I said once we’d finished up. I had more I wanted to say, but I didn’t know how to say it.
“Happy to.” There was a pause as he looked at me.
I held my breath, waiting—hoping he’d come out with whatever he’d almost said on the back of the wagon. Archer had implied there was more to the story. Now I was sure of it.
But what was it?
“I’ll see you later.” He headed for the stable doors.
“Hey.”
James stopped.
Pulse humming, I jogged toward him.
He turned, a little v between his brows as he waited.
I forced myself to breathe and to meet his eye. “This may be pathetic to you, but”—I shrugged—“you’ve become one of my closest friends. I’m really glad you’re staying.”
The v on his brow had disappeared, and his gaze was sharp as it searched mine.
Torn between needing to counterbalance my vulnerability and wanting to reinforce my point, I smiled. “Welcome back to Autumn Ridge, James. For real this time.” I stepped toward him and pulled him into a hug.
It was a one-sided hug. My arms wrapped around him, my hands on his back, while he stood almost rigid. If this was my attempt to counterbalance my vulnerability, it was a catastrophic failure.
Then, like an exhale, his body relaxed, his arms enfolded me, and he pulled me to him.
I shut my eyes and let myself ease into his hold on me, breathing in the familiar scent of hay and tack, mixed with the same hint of cologne from the campout.
“You are my closest friend,” he said softly.
My eyes started to sting, but I blinked it away furiously. “After Mia.” I pulled back, and our arms dropped to our sides.
He smiled. “Well, that goes without saying.”