She swallowed, wringing her hands together. “I don’t hate you.”
My brows pulled together.
“If you thought I did. I just wanted you to know that I don’t,” she clarified.
“I don’t think that you hate me.” I wasn’t sure where she was trying to go with this. And why now? Why bring it all up today? “Gemma, is everything okay?”
Her eyes fell to the ground, and I gave her all the time she needed to conjure up her response. I knew as well as anyone that people could have pain hidden far beneath the surface, and to voice it was to dig up bones that we’d rather stay buried.
“Four years ago, I lost the two people in this world who meant the most to me. A drunk driver took them from me.” She paused, her eyes blinking away the tears she tried to hold at bay. “I’ll never get what you have, Sage.” She finally looked at me, quickly glancing to my stomach before darting back to my face, and I saw it all.
The pain. The reason for her lashing out at me.
“I’m so sorry.” But sorry couldn’t erase that pain from her past. It wouldn’t make any of it better.
“It’s alright,” she said, sniffling as she wiped a finger under her eyes. “Four years is a long time to cope. I’ve come to terms with what happened that night. But when you first moved here, shortly after I did, and you’d bring Avery into the cafe sometimes, seeing your little girl made me envious for all the wrong reasons. It wasn’t your fault.”
“I know,” I admitted quietly. Trauma messed with the human brain. It’d find reasons to excuse what happened; pin your anger on others who weren’t even involved. “It’s not our fault, Gemma.”
She nodded, but I could tell she’d been trying to convince herself of that for a long time. I crossed the room, pulling her into a hug.
“It’s not our fault,” I repeated.
I’d say it a million times over again if I needed to. To engrain it in our brains that the reason we were dealt the hands we got was not because of us.
It wasn’t my fault Jason would hit me when he was angry, and it wasn’t Gemma’s fault that that person decided to drive inebriated.
We were strong enough to get through this.
Gemma pulled back, dropping her arms. “It wasn’t your fault either, Sage. Whatever pain you hold, it wasn’t inflicted because of you.”
My lips pressed together as I nodded. “It wasn’t. I know that now.”
She glanced at the clock hanging on the wall. “Why don’t you go open the store while I get the ovens going?”
“You don’t want to head home before your shift?”
She shook her head. “I’m okay staying.”
“Alright, well, if you change your mind, I won’t mind.”
I headed for the door, but paused with my hand resting on it when Gemma said my name. I looked back at her.
“I’m sorry for any trouble I’ve caused you. It wasn’t my intention,” she said.
“It’s been no trouble at all, Gemma. It’s okay.”
She gave a closed-lip smile, though it didn’t reach her eyes.
Maybe not today, but someday, we’d be okay.
Pain couldn’t be the forefront of what we felt forever.
There was more to this life than that. It had just taken me longer than I would have liked to figure that out.
31
Sage
The combination of tart orange juice played on my tongue with the bubbly pops of champagne. It’d been a long time since I had a mimosa, and I was clearly missing out.
“I’m telling you, that horse is out of his mind,” Brandy said after a sip of her own mimosa.
“You don’t have to keep trying,” Lettie replied as the waitress set the basket of fried pickles down in the middle of the table.
“Do some horses just not want to be ridden?” Oakley asked. She and I were on the same wavelength with the limited horse knowledge.
“Can we get another round of mimosas?” Brandy asked the waitress, who nodded in response, then replied to Oakley. “Some horses are straight assholes, and Lettie seems to pick the best of them.”
They’d invited me to a boozy brunch, and I’d almost said no, but Charlotte had popped up out of nowhere when Lettie was asking me at the ranch, offering to watch Avery so I could have a few hours with the girls.
“I like to pride myself with my choices,” Lettie retorted.
Brandy downed the last of her mimosa. “I wouldn’t get too cocky like that.”
“I can try to do it myself,” Lettie offered.
Brandy shook her head. “I’ll figure it out.”
