He didn’t know why he’d shown her the scarf, except... Maybe it was the penance that he needed to make. Because he could see that he hurt her.

Not that he didn’t know that. He’d known that ever since the song had come out.

You knew it before.

But the fact was, this was another of those moments. Where he could turn back, or he could take a step forward, a step into something he knew wasn’t a good idea.

Just like he’d done back then.

Before

They did a little more talking than kissing after that. It was a good thing. Because she needed to take it slow, and he understood that. He still wasn’t quite sure what was happening between them. Not really. What the point of it was. Where it was going.

He didn’t want to think about it. He was good at that. Not thinking about it. He hadn’t lied to her when he’d said he was very good at putting up walls.

He was so good at it, he didn’t quite know how to take them down. And he figured that was all right.

They both ended up winning top spot in their events for the season.

And he bought her the boots. Before they ever left the final event in Vegas.

“I told you not to do that,” she said.

“Yeah. Well, I did.”

“What are you going to do now?” she asked.

“I’m headed out to the coast for a few days.” He always went and stayed in one of his parents’ properties when the season was out. A little time to breathe between going and working the ranch and all the hard traveling and riding that happened all season long. “You should come with me.”

He didn’t know why he asked her to do that any more than he knew the why of anything from the past couple of months. Why he was making out with this girl who wasn’t his type. Talking to her for hours every night. Thinking about her all the time.

“Yeah, all right. But I’m still not having sex with you, Ace.”

“Didn’t ask you to.” A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. He wasn’t even upset about it. He was a little physically frustrated, but he wasn’t mad. Not even a little.

Because like everything else with her, the fling was unpredictable.

And he liked that best of all.

After

She couldn’t sleep. She paced around the room, and then for some reason, opened the door. She crept down the hall. It was silent. The building was huge. She didn’t even know where he was sleeping. And the odds were, it wasn’t anywhere near her.

It was strange to be in such a big place like this with nobody in it.

Nobody but him. And somehow she felt his presence looming large as if they were staying in a tiny house.

She huffed. And continued down the stairs, into the lobby. The lights were off.

She looked around, up at the tall, arched ceiling with beams extending across it. The dim chandelier. And then she continued on toward the large windows that faced out over what she knew was a beautiful view in the daylight.

She could hardly see anything, it was so dark. But she could make out the swirling of snowflakes coming down.

She touched the window, and felt that it was freezing cold.

They had never been in snow together. They had spent the summer together. A summer that had been full of heat and longing.

A summer full of lies that she had told herself. But the truth was, he’d never lied to her.

She’d broken her own heart.

Even after two years she couldn’t quite figure out how to make it beat normally again.

She sat down on the couch by the window, holding her notebook in her lap. And she started to write.

A prayer, really, more than a song. For what she wished could have been. For who she wished he could be, and who she wished she could be for him.

Somebody, someday would be enough to tear down the walls in his heart. She was only sorry that it wasn’t her.

A tear slipped down her cheek. She had really thought that she was done crying over Flint Carson.

She’d thought that it had scabbed over.

That she had come to a place of reconciliation with it.

But he was here. And the problem was finding out that her feelings weren’t anywhere near as different now from then as she would like them to be.

She closed her eyes, and she let herself remember. Because maybe that would jolt her back to reality. Maybe that would remind her.

It was so easy to remember that summer. To remember the beginning. To remember the end.

Chapter 8

Before

The house was beautiful. They had driven separately, so that they could go their separate ways after, because it made the most sense, after all. They still weren’t claiming to be a couple or anything like that. They were friends who kissed a lot.

And she was still trying to sort through her feelings for him. Or rather, trying desperately to come up with something to call him that wasn’t as terrifying as the word that seemed to echo inside of her whenever she thought of him.

She’d brought her guitar, and she was looking forward to spending a little bit of time working on her music. They’d reached pretty much a dead end with her demo, but she knew that was just how it went. They had gotten a couple of completely unknown internet radio stations to play her songs, but nothing big. And definitely no interest from labels.

She wasn’t used to being on the coast. She got out of her truck and looked around: there were big, tall pines surrounding the house, and it was up on the edge of a sheer rock face, overlooking the great, pounding sea. The roar of it was intense, beautiful.

The front door to the house opened, and Flint stepped outside. Barefoot. She didn’t know why that was notable. Only that it was. It felt intimate. She was wearing her boots. The ones he had bought her. She hadn’t been able to help herself. But at least she hadn’t let him buy her a new truck. She just fixed the old one. That was reasonable.

“Glad you’re here.”

She smiled. “Me too.”