“Madison,” he said weakly, his breaths thin and shallow. His head shifted faintly as his vacant gaze found me. “Madison, don’t do this.”
I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.
I steeled my jaw as I gave him the only truth I could. “I have to.”
“You don’t,” he ground out. “You don’t have to do this—don’t have to do what you’re doing. Let me come with you. Let me be with you.”
My head moved in sharp jerks as he started moving us into a territory I couldn’t go in.
I couldn’t tell him I didn’t want him. I couldn’t tell him I didn’t love him.
I would break if I tried.
“Madison,” he begged tightly when I turned for my car, reaching out and grabbing my hand.
“Hunter, stop,” I snapped as I took my hand back and cradled it close to my stomach. “Just let me go.”
“I can’t.”
“You have to!”
“It has been you and me our entire lives,” he called out when I turned away again. “It’s supposed to be you and me for the rest of them too.”
I faltered but quickly regained my footing. My face crumpled with this soul-searing pain and the need to go back to him. To confess everything. To beg him to forgive me.
Taking a fortifying breath, I ignored the tears streaming down my face and kept my expression carefully blank as I turned to look at him.
Shoulders caved. One hand gripping his hair. The other clutching his chest.
Slaying what was left of my heart. And I embraced every bit of the pain as I opened my door and said, “Goodbye, Hunter.”
I love you. I love you. I will always love you.
More than there are words.
“Izzy isn’t here,” I mumbled and let out an exhausted laugh when my hat was knocked off.
I picked it up from the step beside me and rested it on my head before focusing on Baby. Huffing at me and staring at me with those eyes that helped her get away with just about everything.
Like Izzy sneaking her fruits and vegetables.
I rubbed my hand over her furry white face and leaned against the railing. “She isn’t here.”
She glanced away for a moment, looking sad as hell and giving a pathetic excuse for a moo before going for my hat again.
I stopped her with both hands to her wet nose. Rubbing at her face and neck before letting my hands fall to my lap. “You and me both.”
Tomorrow made two weeks since my world had been rocked by Madison. I hadn’t seen her since that morning at Blossom, but she was everywhere.
In my head. A constant thrumming in my veins. On just about every Amber resident’s lips . . .
Unless it was someone from my family, people rarely came onto the ranch before all this. Madison hadn’t been back for twenty-four hours before the first visitor showed, pulling Izzy and me from my bed.
And it hadn’t stopped since.
People eager to be the one who informed me Madison had returned. Others desperate to know what we had talked about that first night. Asking if I knew her plans—whether she was visiting or here for good. What this meant for us. If we were having an affair because “I just know I saw a ring on her finger. And Sara Beth mentioned the two of you had a little meetin’ at Blossom Bed and Breakfast.”
A nonstop reminder that Madison was in Amber. That she was close. Turning that steady thrum into an all-out need to find her. Talk to her.
All while the desperation to fix what was happening between Izzy and me grew stronger. With each knock at my door, Izzy broke a little more. Put more distance between us.
I was hurting her. As I’d known I would. As I’d known this would.
For a while, things were about the same as the day I’d told her Madison was back. She was quiet and tried to suppress her feelings. But she still let me pull her close at random and continued to stay with me at night, needing me to hold her as badly as I’d needed her in my arms.
Within a week, I’d lost even that.
She started coming to work after I was already out in the orchard and was gone before I came back. If townspeople stopped by during that time, she left messages on the counter instead of waiting to tell me herself. When I stopped by during the day to catch her, she barely made eye contact. If we had to talk about something business-related, she kept it as short as possible while leaving a large gap between us.
And it was crushing something inside of me.
The times I’d tried to stop her from rushing away from me—to talk to her—she’d held up a hand and quietly begged, “Don’t.”
So, I hadn’t . . .
And now, one of my cows was even giving me shit over it. As if I wasn’t struggling enough over the current state of my life.
“Here we go again,” I mumbled as I scratched at Baby’s ears, my eyes narrowing on the truck coming down the drive. I stood and nudged the cow in the direction of the barn and corrals. “Get on out there.”
She just nudged me back and smelled at my hands and pockets.
I pushed her face to the side when she gave a moo of displeasure. “I don’t have anything. Don’t look at me like that.” One of her perpetually sad eyes stayed locked on mine, knowing I would give in soon.
She was so damn spoiled.
Couldn’t really blame Baby when I’d almost lost her after buying her and her sister. I’d spent nearly every minute with her—babying her—refusing to lose the miniature Highland even though the breeder had offered me another.
Pretty damn sure the thing didn’t know she was a cow. She’d sleep in the house if she could get up the steps.
“So, this is how you spend your nights?”
I glanced up, eyes narrowed in a halfhearted glare at Cayson as he rounded the front of his truck, hand reaching out to where Emberly was skipping along to meet up with him.
“Baby!” she said excitedly and skipped right past my brother when the red and white fluffy beast began trotting toward her. “Where’s your sister, pretty girl?”
“In the barn. Where Baby should be,” I called out meaningfully.
Emberly gave me a look that was part mischief and part glower as she loved on the miniature cow. With her eyes still on me, she reached into the large bag hanging over her shoulder and pulled out something that Baby immediately snatched from her.
“The hell,” I muttered and dragged my baseball cap off my head to rough my hand through my hair. “That cow’s so spoiled. What’s in the bag?”
“Everything,” Cayson said, adoration and amusement filling his tone. “Apple slices. Corn. Watermelon rinds. I dunno what else—there’s stuff in there for the pigs and goats too. She was so damn excited when she realized she was gonna be able to come with me.”
With a challenging look, Emberly started leading Baby toward the barn.
“Not too much,” I called out, silently praying she wasn’t about to overfeed my animals.
“I’m treating them, not trying to kill them,” she yelled back, sounding all kinds of offended even through her excitement.
“How’s she feeling?” I asked when Cayson went up a couple of the steps to sit on the porch.
“Great.” An unrestrained smile was lighting up his face when I sat beside him. “She’s feeling good. We have an appointment when I get back, and then we’re gonna start fixing up the house and getting it ready.”