about choked on her water. “Stuart?” she asked in between coughs.
Brock nodded, looking proud. “Tom Stuart’s taken over the school since his father passed a year ago. The boys go there twice a week.”
Amy’s heart started again. She hadn’t known the boys were going to the Stuarts’, and hearing the name out of the blue like that had done more to her than she liked to admit. She suddenly hoped to heaven that Jack was still out on the circuit. Maybe he would even be gone the entire month she was there, and she could board her plane to Thailand after the wedding and just forget about her resolution to speak to him, which seemed awfully daunting now that she was home.
Brock gestured to her with his fork. “Jack’s back in town right now, too. Weren’t you two an item for a while in high school?”
Amy felt her heart jolt again at the sound of his name. Of course, Brock had been on the rodeo circuit when they’d started dating. He didn’t know how serious their relationship had been, didn’t know that his name cut through her like a knife.
But Ma and Pop knew some of it. Pop stood, clearing his throat, and all the attention turned to him. “I just want to thank y’all for being here. It does an old man good to see so many people he loves around the table together.”
There was a round of “hear, hear!” and a lifting of glasses, and then Pop sat back down. “Now, stop with the chatter and get to eatin’. I don’t plan on having leftovers,” Ma added.
With that, they tucked in, eating heartily. Amy didn’t look at Brock, in case he decided to start up the conversation again. She did, however, risk a glance at Pop, who was looking at her with concern. Amy gave him a little nod of thanks, then turned her eyes back to the plate in front of her.
Jack Stuart was in town right this minute, just a few miles away. When she’d bought her ticket to come home, she had hoped he would be, but now...
The mix of emotions he evoked was too much to analyze. All she knew for sure was that she couldn’t run and hide any longer, and she needed to be prepared to talk to him. Tell him the truth.
* * *
AMY AWOKE LONG before sunrise, her internal clock still not quite on Texas time. Once awake, her mind immediately turned to Jack, her stomach twisting. She lay in bed wondering if he already knew she was home, if he would decide to confront her about her disappearance after graduation, or if she would be the one to seek him out. And if she could force herself to actually do so.
She knew that her eighteen-year-old self hadn’t handled things particularly well, and she still felt guilt rise in her when she thought of the messages he had left, asking her to please call him and tell him why she hadn’t talked to him, why she had just left without saying goodbye.
She had listened to each one over and over again, torturing herself just so she could hear his voice, but she hadn’t had the nerve to call him back, to talk to him, to explain why she’d gone away.
She was stronger now, though. She had made the decision to come clean to him, and she could handle it, however difficult it might seem. After all, their relationship had been a long time ago. About a decade now. Shouldn’t that be long enough to wipe away everything that had happened between them?
She knew, though, that it hadn’t been long enough for her.
Amy sighed and pulled herself out of bed, determined to get her mind off her high school sweetheart.
For an hour, she struggled to write an article about her experiences in the Sahara Desert, but the camels and tribesmen and women felt impossible to capture in words when her brain was so full of other things so much closer to home.
Finally, frustrated, she turned from her laptop and paced the length of her small childhood bedroom, trying to get her mind to settle down and focus. She felt too closed in to think properly—that was the problem, she told herself.
Amy could see that the sky had lightened enough for the world outside her window to be more than just a swath of darkness, and she determined that it would be best to get out of this tiny room. Her eyes landed on her old tan Stetson, hanging on one of her bedposts, just where she would always put it after a ride, and she smiled.
In a couple of minutes, her hair was falling down her back underneath a battered cowboy hat, and she had thrown on her jeans. With her old cowboy boots in one hand, she sneaked quietly down the stairs in just her socks, hoping not to wake anyone.
Once she was standing outside and the back door was shut behind her, she slid her feet into her boots and walked quickly toward the barn, feeling like a younger version of herself. When she reached it, it took no time at all to slip inside and find her old tack in its place against the wall. Pa had taken good care of it while she was gone.
The smell of hay and the nickering of horses surrounded her and was a soothing presence, and for a moment she stood there, feeling the supple leather of her saddle and remembering old times when she wanted nothing more than to live on a ranch and ride in rodeos. And marry Jack.
She turned from the saddle, wishing she could turn from her thoughts as easily, and walked along the row of horses. Since the family ran a riding school, there was no shortage of animals to ride, but she still looked over them all, telling herself she wasn’t looking for Bandit.
Bandit had been her horse back in the day, a beautiful black stallion with white freckled markings on his nose, and when he died during her first year of college, she’d cried long and hard. It still sent a pang through her heart to think of him, and she knew she would always wonder if he’d felt abandoned when she moved so far away.
Bandit wasn’t there, of course, and she looked over the horses once again, this time seeing them as they were, and not what they weren’t. A feisty-looking mare, dark brown, butted Amy with her nose, stopping her in her tracks. When Amy looked the animal in the eyes, she knew they’d get along just fine.
Amy saddled up the mare, whose name she didn’t know, and walked her out of the barn. In the early-morning light, the mare’s coat shone a deep bronze, and Amy patted her. “What do you say we go for a ride, girl?” she asked.
The horse snorted and pulled her head up quickly, almost as if she was nodding. Amy grinned at her and mounted the animal, settling into the saddle as if she’d only been riding the day before. With that, the two were off around the property, getting to know each other.
For a few minutes, Amy was content to ride at a walking pace as she accustomed herself to the mare’s gait. Once she was comfortable, though, she started to feel antsy. The lingering anxiety was still there, nagging at the back of her mind, and she decided to do what she’d always done to clear her mind in the old days: outrun her thoughts. Amy turned the mare toward the fence line, and in a few seconds they were through a small gate and onto a trail that wound its way through the trees that bordered her parents’ property.
Soon Amy and the mare were moving at a quick trot along the footpath. Amy leaned close to the mare’s neck as she reveled in the familiar feeling. She must have traveled along this trail hundreds of times when she was in high school, exercising the horses and leading children from her father’s riding school along the path.
When they broke through the last of the trees into an open field, Amy urged the horse to go faster, and they streaked through the short grass at a run, hurtling along until they reached a dirt road. The feel of her hair streaming behind her as the cool wind slapped her face gave Amy more joy than she remembered feeling in a long time. When they slowed, she took in a deep breath and shivered with the cold.
By that time the sky was full of light, and Amy knew it was probably time to get back. She turned the mare to walk along the road, back toward the ranch.
Amy was still breathing hard, her heart pounding, when she saw something that made it beat even harder. A few hundred yards up the road was a truck, a cowboy leaning against it and watching her.
She knew the truck and the cowboy so well, she recognized them immediately, even though it had been a decade since she’d seen either