Page 26 of Reclaimed Roots

"True," I conceded with a chuckle. "Your dad's burgers were the stuff of legends."

The mention of Ed turned the mood somber, and I mentally kicked myself. But Natalie surprised me. Her smile softened rather than disappearing entirely.

"They were legendary, weren't they? God, I miss him."

"Me too." I reached over and took her hand. It was as much comforting affection as I could manage at that point, but her sharp inhale told me it had more of an effect than I expected.

I shouldn't have been touching her.

She had a boyfriend.

But that touch was innocent.

As long as I let go quickly.

Too late.

I dropped her hand like it burned me, and she visibly stiffened, eyes darting to my face. Looking for what, I didn't know.

I cleared my throat and took a seat at the kitchen table.

Marie set the burgers down, and the smell of melted cheese and grilled beef made my mouth water. But my appetite was overshadowed by the discomfort radiating from Natalie.

She was avoiding my eyes, fidgeting with her napkin. I could practically see the wheels turning in her head as she struggled to find her footing in our strange new dynamic.

Awkward quiet settled over us as we tucked into our food. Marie filled the void with idle chit chat about the weather and the latest town gossip.

Natalie picked at her fries, stealing glances at me when she thought I wasn't looking. I pretended not to notice, focusing intently on my burger, even though it was getting harder and harder to swallow.

This was a mistake. Having dinner together like one big happy family—it was too much, too soon. The past was still a festering wound that opened every time Natalie and I shared the same air.

I should've made my excuses and left when Chase and Elliot did. But some perverse part of me wanted to see how this would play out, to test the waters of whatever this was between us now.

It turned out the waters were ice cold and treacherous as hell.

Natalie cleared her throat, and my head snapped up instinctively. "So, um...how are things at the orchard?"

It was an innocuous question. The kind of small talk you made with a casual acquaintance.

It cut straight through me, laying bare how far we'd drifted apart. She was so far removed from my life now. How could she understand the blood and sweat I'd poured into helping keep our family legacy alive? It was a constant struggle, and she made damn clear seven years ago that she had no interest in sharing it.

"It's good," I said shortly, tamping down the flare of bitterness. "Busy, as always. But we're managing."

She nodded, worrying her bottom lip again. I wanted to snatch it between my thumb and forefinger. Kiss away the pain.

Like I used to.

But I couldn't.

It wasn't my place anymore.

I can't do this.

I tossed my napkin on my plate. "Thanks for dinner, Marie. I should probably head out."

Marie's brow creased. "So soon? I was hoping we could all catch up a bit more."

"Yeah, I've got an early start tomorrow," I lied, already pushing back from the table. "Lots to do before harvest season."

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