Page 41 of Feels Like Home

My brain fills in the blanks of the rest of the memory, and I brighten with shock. I look at him, eyes wide. “And you showed it to Dara Cunningham!” I feign amusement, like Oh, ha ha! Wasn’t that funny? trying not to think about how badly it hurt. “Took my special spot and turned it into a make out place.” I shake my head like a disappointed grandma because if I let on what I really am, I won’t recover.

He goes still as realization creeps across his face.

“Oh, man, you’re right.” He takes a step back. “I did.” Then, after a beat, he adds, “You knew about that?”

“Yep.” I bend over and pick a dandelion. “Came out here one day after chores and there you were, sitting on my tree stump in my spot kissing gross Dara Cunningham. Didn’t she still wear headgear?”

He winces. “She did.”

“Points for bravery, I guess.”

He smiles, but then turns somber. “Wow, I’m sorry. What a crap thing to do.”

“Yeah, seriously. A very crap thing to do.” I twist the dandelion between my fingers.

“I can’t believe you didn’t say something,” he says. “You never let me get away with anything.”

I couldn’t say anything. I was too heartbroken. And I couldn’t let on because he might’ve figured out how I really felt.

I shrug. “Water under the bridge.”

“You’re really going to let me off that easy?” He gives my shoulder a tiny shove. “That’s not like you.”

“I’m trying to do better,” I comically say through gritted teeth.

“How’s that going for you?” He smirks.

I scrunch my nose and wave a dismissive hand through the air. “You were young and stupid.” I hazard a joke. “What’s your excuse now?”

He laughs “Oh, no. Hattie’s back, ladies and gentlemen.”

“It’s fine, Noble, I’m⁠—”

“It’s not fine. That was a really crappy thing I did.”

“Eh.” I don’t look at him. “What else is there to say?”

“Maybe . . . ‘I’m sorry’?” He angles his body toward me. “I really am. I shouldn’t have done that when I knew how much this place meant to you.”

I wave him off, but I note the second the words land. He’s sorry.

Is that all he’s sorry for?

There’s a beat, and I don’t know how to respond, so I start walking. “Like you said last night, this place is too amazing not to share, so I’m sharing it.”

“Really?” he asks.

“Yep,” I say. “I’m calling it ‘The Woodlands.’ We did a ton of work out here before last winter. Not sure you’ll even recognize it—but it’s where the ceremony will be.” We head down the wide, stone steps that seem to have been carved by nature, and into the clearing surrounded by a circle of trees.

“We added a stone floor here in the clearing, and then the aisle is—” I motion back to where the stairs are, indicating the way everything will be set up. “It’s hard to picture, but in my head, it’s really beautiful.”

“This is going to be perfect.” There’s awe in his tone. He can picture it, and somehow, that matters.

I turn back toward where the imaginary altar is. “I was coming to see if the arch was finished, but . . . it’s not here. West was going to build it, then Boone, then West again, but they’ve been juggling their regular ranch work with all of my little side quests. I’m lucky they’ve done as much as they have.” I look back, shielding my eyes from a ray of sun coming through the trees. “I mean, it’s okay without it, right?”

“What’s it for?” he asks.

“An arch, like a backdrop to frame the couple,” I make a motion with my hands like picture it. “Made out of wood, stained to match the chairs. Like a centerpiece for the bride and groom to stand under. Maybe wrapped with flowers and tulle depending on what the bride wants. Raya isn’t expecting it or anything, so I’m sure it’ll be fine.” I glance over. “It’ll be fine, right?”