like a cloud across Wade’s eyes. “I’m missing something here, Lori. Look, you need to sit down.”
He obviously thought she was crazy. She felt crazy. Felt like she’d crossed through some time warp and crashed right into that naive girl she’d been back when she’d slept with him.
“I’m fine, really.” She forced her back muscles straight, her hands into fists, digging her nails into her palms so the pain would wake her up, sharpen her traitorous mind. “I’m here because you built a well. And ruined mine.”
He stared at her. “How...”
“Up on the southern edge of your ranch? Well, the way our boundaries are, your property is above mine. So your well is uphill from my well. And mine dried out.”
“Oh, crap.” He had the grace to look stricken.
She nodded. “That just about sums it up.”
“What do we do now?”
At least he wasn’t going on the defensive, trying to deny it or bully her or any of the other worries she’d had on the drive over. “Shut it down and give me my water back.”
He looked past her, uphill and south, in the direction of the new tank, though they couldn’t see it from here. “I can’t do that. I spent most of my combat pay on that thing.”
“Combat?” Pieces of this new version of Wade—the muscles, the poise, the calm, curt way he was speaking—all fell into place. “You were in combat? Fighting?”
“Yup.”
He didn’t say more and she didn’t ask. How did you ask about something like that? And it was none of her business, anyway. He’d made that clear by his silence in the weeks since he’d come home.
That silence hurt, but maybe the hurt was good. It would add another layer to her carefully honed resentment. A resentment and a regret that had carried her through so many hard times it had become a part of her. A strong part, kind of like a second skeleton. “Look, I’m sorry you spent your money on that well. You should have checked with me first. That water belongs to my ranch.”
“I looked into that. You don’t own the rights.”
His words were little earthquakes, shaking her world. She’d always assumed her father had taken care of that when he first drilled. “That can’t be true.”
“I wouldn’t lie to you.”
“I’m not saying you would.” She studied the ground at her feet, frantically going through her options. “It’s just a lot to take in.”
“I didn’t mean to cause you harm, Lori.”
“Ha.” She blurted it out without thinking. He was walking, talking harm. She swallowed hard, getting her misfiring mind under control. “I’m sure. But here’s some advice. It’s best to check in with your neighbors before you start a big project like that. We’re all connected out here.”
He looked away for a moment before he spoke. “I guess I didn’t realize it.”
“I guess you didn’t.” Everything he didn’t realize sat on her shoulders in an oppressive weight. Their night together had changed her life forever. And he had no idea. She pulled the keys to her truck out of her pocket. There was nothing for her here.
“Look, I’m sorry about the water.”
“Sorry doesn’t help. And if you were truly sorry, you’d shut down that well.”
“I wish I could, but I can’t.”
“Then I’ll have to figure out what to do next.” She needed to get out of here. Needed to get far away from this new betrayal and these unearthed memories and all her endless, useless wishing that they’d both done things differently. “I’d better go.”
“It was good to see you.” He held out his hand to shake hers. She didn’t want to take it. Didn’t want to feel that strength ever again. His strength had always been her weakness.
She grabbed his hand and there it was. All wrapped around hers, fingers long and strong and warm. As compelling as she’d dreaded. Damn him. She yanked her hand back. “I’ll call the driller. And if he can’t help me, I’ll call my lawyer.” There. That felt better. She was strong and fierce when she let the old bitterness drive her. He’d been careless with her when they were young, and now he was being careless with her again. With her ranch, her career, her livelihood, her life. But this time she wouldn’t crumble or let him destroy her. She’d fight back.
“A lawyer? Lori, come on...”
“No, you come on. You can’t just come back here after all these years and sink a well that uses up all my water. I’m in charge of Lone Mountain Ranch now, and if I need a lawyer to get my water back, I’m damn well going to call one.”
“I didn’t know my well would dry yours out. And my guess is that you don’t know for sure that it has.”
There was truth there, but she wouldn’t admit it. Not when he was digging in his heels. “I checked around up there and didn’t see any other reason for it.”
He shrugged. “Well, let’s wait to hear what the driller has to say. I mean, we’re friends, right? We can solve this problem.”
“Friends?” She let him see her cynicism. “Is that what we are?”
He looked at her carefully, like she was some kind of feral thing that might reach out and bite. “I always thought so.”
“Do you even remember...” She stopped. There was no use talking about it. No way he could know the pain he’d helped cause. No way she wanted to tell him. “I’ve got to get back.” She started to turn away when something caught her eye. “Hang on.” She stooped and picked up one of the chain saws he’d left on the ground. “That’s my ranch’s logo. The Lone Mountain. It’s scratched out, but...see?” She shoved it toward him, blade first.
“Easy there.” He stepped around the blade and moved closer to see where she pointed. “You’re right. That’s yours. Want to take it? I’ll throw in a Weedwacker, too.” He picked one up and held it out to her, a humorless smile tilting the corner of his mouth. She didn’t want to notice the way it creased a bitter dimple into his cheek.
“How can you joke about this? Is all this stuff stolen?”
“I reckon.”
“That’s all you can say? You reckon? When you’ve got stolen property from half the county here?”
“More like half the state, I think.”
She stared at him, looking for shame, or remorse, or some indication of what he thought about it all. But he just stared right back at her, not a hint of apology in his eyes. She couldn’t care less about the stolen chain saw. Her water was the real crime here.
“Well, I’ll leave you to your illegal junkyard, then.”
He stilled. Her blow had hit home. “That’s just low. You know I didn’t steal it. Don’t be like the rest of this town and judge me because of my family.” His smile was gone and his voice was quiet. “I’d expect a little more kindness from the Lori I used to know.”
“Kindness?” Her voice went shrill, and she stopped herself. Tried to breathe. Tried to bring her words lower. “This from the guy who didn’t even bother to knock on my door before he drilled a well over mine?”
“I’m new at this. I didn’t know.”
“It was your responsibility to know.” Kindness. Her rage made her breath catch. How dare he call her unkind, when he’d been so cruel the last time they’d seen each other? “I’ll give you some kindness...by telling you a hard truth about ranching. There is no room for excuses. If you screw up, you’ve got to own up to it and fix the problem right away. Because your land, your