Right.
That.
Cayson’s news.
I needed to be present for that conversation.
“We will need more room soon,” Cayson’s girlfriend said, her tone teasing as she pretended to consider whether or not they should take the ranch.
But I never heard his response.
As soon as I’d started looking their way, my gaze had caught on the woman a few stores down.
Staring at us.
At me.
Stunning me so goddamn bad that I staggered a few steps to the side.
I had to be hallucinating. Dreaming. Something. There was no way in hell she was real. That she was there.
I pulled my baseball cap off my head, as if that might help clear my vision, and let my hand fall to my side when the image in front of me didn’t change. She was still there.
Madison Black.
My youth was made up of family and baseball and falling for Madison. All of high school was one big blur of falling in love with her between early morning conversations and sneaking out late at night.
The girl I’d planned a future with in the bed of my truck as I’d made her mine over and over again. As she’d taken my heart . . .
And destroyed it.
One night, she’d been in my arms, dreaming up our life together. Few days later, she’d said she had to get out of Amber. Needed to find bigger cities where she could breathe. Where she could chase dreams that she’d never once mentioned before.
And then she was gone.
I was meant to spend my life with her. I’d known that every day of the thirteen years since she’d left. I’d just accepted long ago that I wouldn’t because she was never coming back.
Except, she was there.
Right fucking there.
Standing on a sidewalk in Amber. Slamming me with a thousand memories. Ripping a hole through my chest because there was a diamond shining brightly on her left hand, and she was holding on to a little girl who looked a hell of a lot like Madison had when we were young.
“Hunter?” Cayson called out, breaking through my shock and disbelief. “What’s wrong?”
I wanted to tell him nothing was wrong.
I wanted to tell him everything was right for the first time in so damn long. Because for the first time in over a dozen years, she’d come home.
But the words jumbled and caught on my tongue as my conversation with Cayson from six months before echoed in my mind.
“If Madison came back to town today and said she still loved you, would you take her back? Fully,” he’d added after a moment. “No holding it over her that she left. No worrying that she might leave again. No letting that come between y’all.”
“In a heartbeat,” I’d whispered. “If she came back, I wouldn’t waste a damn second.”
And I’d already wasted too many just standing there.
I started toward her, my feet feeling like they were filled with lead as I tried to wrap my mind around the knowledge that this was real.
But then Cayson was there. Hands to my chest and trying to stop me from continuing forward. Disapproval falling from his lips as he said, “Hunter . . . no.”
“Told you.” I fought to push him back, but he held firm. “I told you, I wouldn’t waste a goddamn second.”
“She’s got a kid, man,” he argued.
“She’s fucking here,” I ground out, sounding like I was seconds away from coming unglued if he didn’t let me go.
If I didn’t get to her.
And then she lifted her free hand, pressing it to her mouth as her shoulders jerked so forcefully I felt it in my soul. Nothing could’ve kept me away after that.
I don’t remember getting past Cayson.
I don’t remember going to Madison.
If I ran or walked or stalked up to her with all the emotions flooding me . . . but then I was just feet from her. Trembling the closer I got and stopping abruptly when she rocked back. Away.
“What are you—” A strangled sound escaped her, cutting off her next words.
“Hunter.”
I blinked, my brows furrowing as I glanced to the side, to the person who had called my name.
Mrs. Black was standing inside the doorway of the store beside us, looking at me with all the sympathy in the world. “Now might not be the best time,” she continued.
“Momma, please,” Madison whispered. “Please, take Avalee.”
Surprise swam through me as my attention shifted back to the woman in front of me. At the name she’d uttered and what it could mean. If I’d even heard it right. But confusion quickly dominated everything else as I tried to connect what I was seeing—what I was hearing—with the Madison Black I’d known.
Because she wasn’t there.
Madison had been all plaid shirts and authentically-torn jeans tucked into cowboy boots. The woman in front of me was put together in heels and an outfit that looked expensive as shit.
Her long brown hair had always been pulled up in a bouncing ponytail that matched her bubbly personality. Now? It barely touched her shoulders . . . and it was platinum blonde.
The Madison I’d known had been all excited giggles as we would sneak away to be alone. Back roads with the headlights off, driving by the light of the moon and the stars with her hand in mine. Always stopping, no matter what, to dance in the rain. Everything about the girl glowing so damn bright and lighting up my world.
The woman in front of me was a different person entirely.
And I don’t know why it took hearing her voice for me to realize that—to see that. To see everything Cayson had been trying to force me to.
Maybe because her voice had been the most shocking of all. Because it changed her.
“What are you doing here?” she asked when she looked at me again, surprise and grief coating her tone. Drawl that had always been so utterly her and adorable as hell practically nonexistent.
“You have a kid,” I said numbly.
“What are you doing here?” she nearly begged, blue eyes swimming with pain.
“You’re married.” I blinked slowly as I looked toward the glass door of the clothing shop.
Not that I could see her mom or daughter anymore.
But they were in there.
“How old is your daughter?” I asked when she started talking again.
Hesitation pulsed through the space between us for long moments before Madison answered, “Five. She’s five.” Another hitched cry left her. “You’re here—tell me why you’re here.”
My head shook as my stare slowly dragged back to hers. “What are you talking about? I live here . . . Madison, I’ve been here.”
I wasn’t sure when I’d taken a step toward her. Or even if I had been the one to take that step.
But we were closer.
A foot apart.
And even with all the confusion—with her changes muddling my thoughts—I was still struggling not to reach out.
To touch her.
To make sure she was real. To never let her go again.
“You left,” I reminded her, the words soft and filled with a pain and anger I would’ve carried for the rest of my life. “You stayed gone.”
Her jaw trembled as her head slowly shook. “I can’t . . . I can’t do this.” She turned for the door to the clothing shop, and I reacted.
Grabbing her wrist and stepping even closer so the space between us disappeared.