“I think I do know,” she said, the words clear, but spoken in hardly more than a whisper.
He turned to face her then, still leaning on the railing. “My regret isn’t that I stayed, or that I left when I did. My regret is telling you how I felt about you. I knew you didn’t feel that way, Chey. Any fool could have seen that, and probably did. It was a selfish thing, blurting all that out, like by some miracle my own eyes had deceived me and you felt the same way, too, and somehow we’d be together, and the horror of my life would magically be behind me.”
“There’s no shame in honesty,” Chey told him, sparing him a brief glance, but otherwise keeping her gaze firmly on the horizon.
For once he could honestly say he had no idea what she was thinking. But he hadn’t said anything she didn’t already know. So, he added the part that was new. “Maybe. But it cost me the thing I valued most. Your friendship. If I’d known it was all or nothing, maybe I’d have kept my big mouth closed. Maybe not.” His smile was a brief flash. “You weren’t the only one who was a bundle of hormones who couldn’t get out of your own way.”
He saw her lips twitch at that, and she nodded again. “Fair enough.”
“I’m glad we had a chance to talk.”
She did look at him then, back to being the direct Chey he’d always known, back to facing things head on. It was both a relief and had him tensing slightly at the same time. Now it was his turn to brace himself.
“Maybe it’s just as well we had no warning about this meeting,” she said; then she surprised him by smiling. “Less chance of us making matters worse.”
It wasn’t one of those half smiles, or little lip twitches. No, it was that big, broad, beautiful smile that so transformed her. And if it had been stunning at sixteen, and all the years before, all the way back to when she’d been an obnoxiously overconfident eight-year-old, the years since had somehow managed to pack even more of a wallop into it. In fact, he felt it right down somewhere very deep inside his chest. A specific part of his chest that hadn’t been fully engaged since . . . well, since the last time he’d seen that smile.
He knew right then he was still in serious, serious trouble where Cheyenne McCafferty was involved.
“I know it’s not the same as it was then,” he said, aware he should look away, stare at the fields, the mountains, anything but those big brown eyes. “It’s been a very long while. Too long. It’s not like we can just pick up where we left off.”
“Uh, yeah,” she said with a surprised laugh. “Given where we left off.” It was a testament to just how strong their bond once was that she could joke at a time like this.
He smiled, too, even though amusement was all mixed up with sadness over what they’d lost, and the lingering regret and guilt he felt for being the reason it all ended. “The friendship we had once upon a time might be beyond recovery,” he said, as lightly as he was able. “We’re different people now. Or, I am, at any rate.”
“That much is definitely true,” she said candidly.
“Meaning?”
She motioned to him, head to toe. “You’ve seen you, right? I mean, you are not the quiet kid with the big heart and gentle spirit I knew back then. That hidden streak of wicked humor might still be there, though I suspect not so hidden any longer.” She straightened then and rested her arm on the top rail. “You are confident and definitely not shy. I wouldn’t say you have swagger, not the cocky kind at any rate, but I believe you could put on a pretty believable display if asked.”
He laughed at that, but he didn’t deny it. Any of it. “Well, that much hasn’t changed about you,” he said.
“Me being blunt, you mean?”
He flashed a fast grin. “That, and your observational skills were always one of your sharpest traits. One studied look, and you could read a room, a person, a horse, you name it. I always trusted your judgment even when I didn’t see things the same way, because you were so rarely wrong.”
She studied him for a moment, then said, “Am I wrong now?”
“About your assessment of who I am?” He shook his head. “No. I have seen me, yes,” he added with a chuckle. “And no, I don’t much resemble the kid I once was. Thank God. Though I’d like to think the big heart part still applies.”
She nodded, but didn’t say anything more, then turned back to the fence. “Where are you headed from here?” she asked. “Back to Nepal?”
He noted she didn’t ask him what he’d been doing there, or anything else of a personal nature. Beyond tying up loose ends from their past, anyway. She sounded sincere enough, but he couldn’t help but think that in her mind, their little reunion had come to an end. Chey was ready to move on. Or ready for him to move on, at any rate. This was polite conversation now.
He could tell her, fill her in on what he’d been doing the past twelve or thirteen years, what his life was about now, but she didn’t really want to know. And he no longer gave away pieces of himself, even the most trivial of facts, to people who didn’t care to know them. Didn’t care to know him. Not even for her.
Whatever he might have said in response to her question went unanswered, because Tory came running out of the stables just then, waving a cell phone in her hand.
“Hey, sorry to interrupt. Your phone has been ringing off the hook. I didn’t answer because . . . not my phone. But when it kept going, I thought you might want to return the call. It’s Vivi, according to the readout. She’s left voice mails.”
Instantly concerned, Chey took the phone from Tory. “Thanks,” she said, then tapped the screen a few times and listened to the voice mail.
“Everything okay?” Tory asked anxiously. “I’m sorry. I should have told you sooner. I just . . . wanted you two to have time to talk.”
Tory looked visibly relieved when Chey’s mouth curved in that dry half smile. She lifted a hand to stall more questions and put a call in. “Hey there,” she said when the person on the other end—presumably Vivi—answered. “Up a creek without a paddle, are you?”
She listened for a few minutes, then said, “Hold tight. Cavalry is coming.”
She hung up and looked at them. “Vivi—she owns part of this farm”—she said to Wyatt—“went paddling on the lake today. Which . . .” Chey just shook her head, looking bemused, then smiled. “Apparently she’s lost her oars and can’t get back to shore.”
“Paddling?” Tory asked, sounding as surprised as Chey looked. “From what you’ve told me about her, she didn’t strike me as the outdoorsy type. Lavender farm notwithstanding.”
Chey laughed. “She’s most definitely not. I don’t know the full story, but I guess I need to go rescue her.” She looked at her phone, as if trying to formulate a plan of action. “Maybe our friend Noah has a canoe or something. His fishing cabin is out that way.”
“They don’t have boats at the lake?” Tory asked.
Chey shook her head. “Only in the summer. Otherwise you just bring your own and use the ramp.”
“I can get her back to shore,” Wyatt said, wondering who Noah was and knowing it was none of his business.