Page 79 of Feels Like Home

“Can I refuse to answer if I don’t like the question?”

I laugh. “Sure.”

“Then shoot.”

“How’d you, you know, move on?” I ask. “After the accident?”

Her shoulders drop, a move so slight I almost miss it. “Well, you probably remember I was sort of a wreck.”

I nod. “Scared of everything.”

“Right,” she says. “Momma made me see someone. A therapist. She helped me stop catastrophizing everything. Took a long time, and I still don’t chase danger like some people.” She raises her eyebrows at me. “But I can drive my car and ride my horse, you know? Things like that.”

I’m still for a long moment. Sometimes I think part of what hit me so hard was watching what Hunter’s death did to the people I loved.

Because I felt responsible. No, I was responsible. Maybe I wasn’t driving the car, but it was more than “wrong place, wrong time.” It was my fault. And once I come clean about that, there’s a chance all of this rebuilding I’m doing will fall apart.

I look at her, and I almost say the words. But then Hattie moves toward the door and snaps me back to the moment. I follow her outside, and she walks toward my truck.

“Nope,” I say, steering her away. “We’re going on a hike.”

“Where to?”

“What part of ‘trust me’ do you not understand?” I try tossing her an easy smile, aware that she has no reason to.

She huffs out a quiet “Fine,” adjusts the belt bag, and falls into step beside me. It hasn’t even been a minute before she asks, “If you tell me where we’re going, I might know a quicker way.”

“We’re not in a hurry,” I say simply. “Besides, do you remember when you told me you hate when a guy makes you plan everything?”

She stills. “You remember that?”

“I remember everything you say,” I tell her, without looking back. “You said it was part of your bad date experience, so let me plan this and you just go along with it.”

“But this isn’t a date,” she says.

“No, but friends plan things for their friends.” I turn back. “We’re friends, right?”

She pauses for a beat, then pushes past me, trudging up the hill, and I jog to catch up.

“At some point you’re going to have to let me lead,” I say. “You don’t know where we’re going.”

She steps to the edge of the trail, and I step in front of her. “Do you just hate fun, or what?” I tease.

I can practically feel her rolling her eyes. “No, Noble, I don’t ‘hate fun.’”

“You do know the definition of fun, right?”

“Ha. Ha,” she says. “We went kayaking this morning. That was fun.”

I move a branch aside so it doesn’t hit her in the face, then follow behind her for a few steps. “That wasn’t fun. That was exercise. Pretty sure you were trying to win kayaking.”

“I mean, I did beat you,” she says with a smirk.

“I let you win,” I say even though I absolutely didn’t.

“Uh-huh.”

“But for real,” I say. “Down time? Hobbies?”