Page 91 of Bloom

“It might not be the same, but I was in a relationship that didn’t end all that great for me either. I lost…”Everythingsounds a little dramatic, but that’s how it felt. How it still feels, sometimes. Most of the time, it feels like I’m only starting to get it back. My friends, my safe space, my freaking dignity. “Thatis not what I want. I don’t…”Shut up, some bone-deep instinct screams.Shut up, shut up, shut up, it begs, but I ignore it—I’m too far gone to stop. “I don’t want to sit through a dinner with one man while I’m thinking about another. I don’t want to feel so freaking helpless that I ask another man out in the first place. I don’t want to be a mistake.”

I swear, hazel irises flash red for a second. Nostrils flaring, Hunter takes another step impossibly closer, nothing between us but a fraction of air. “I never said that.”

“I’m pretty good at context cues.”

“Caroline—”

“Stop.” I plant my palms on his chest, shoving him back a step, and it’s like that simple exertion drains all my energy. All the fight leaves me, all the fury, and I shrink back into myself. Shoulders hunched, arms crossed over my chest, eyes on the ground. “I don’t wanna argue about this.” It’smortifying, arguing about this. Like I’m convincing him to want me. “Forget it. I’m sorry. I’m just tired. I hear you, okay? I don’t want anything from you. I’m not asking you for anything.”

Once again, he says my name.

Once again, I walk away before I start to cry.

27

His self-control can only be tested so far.

She finds the limit.

I thought visitingmy mom’s grave on such a gloomy day would be too eerie, but it turns out the creek is just as creepy when dark clouds hover menacingly above it.

Peaceful creepy, though. Quiet, too. And cold, though that didn’t stop me from diving in. I figured the muggy threat of a summer storm would ward off the chill, but as I sit shivering, wet hair dripping down my back and my knees tucked to my chest as I try to get warm, it’s safe to assume I figured wrong.

Any minute now, I’ll shuck my damp underwear and t-shirt, and I’ll pull on some dry clothes. I’ll join a grazing Aster near the treeline and find some real shelter from the sporadic raindrops pelting the water, sending ripples across the still surface. I’ll start on the million things I have to do today—none of which include staring mindlessly into space, fretting about a man and a woman, and another man.

Any minute, but not this one.

When Aster whickers a greeting, I sigh. When I hear hoof-steps so heavy they could only belong to two horses on the ranch, I sigh again, because I know. Even before a huge body eases itself down beside me, close enough that the heat of it burns my side, I know.

Process of elimination—it’s hardly going to be Luna and Clyde tracking me down.

A steaming mug appears in my eyeline. I recognize the hand-painted ceramic from Lux’s kitchen cabinets, but it’s not her hand attached to the handle. I don’t say anything as I take the mug, the scent of my favorite tea blend wrapping around me. The combination of lemon verbena, honeysuckle, and calendula is strong, but not quite strong enough to overwhelm hay, dirt, and sweat.

Eau-de-cowboy, I think with a silent, weak laugh.

Surveying my beverage—and the matching one in Hunter’s grip—I exhale loudly. “How’d you even get these out here?”

I don’t see his mouth quirk, but I hear it in his voice. “Carefully.”

Picturing him straddling Gaia, cradling two mugs in one enormous hand, makes me smile too. Only fleetingly, though. It quickly evaporates when I remember our conversation yesterday, a conversation he’s probably here to reignite, to finish for good, and a quick flash of mortification chases the chill from my bones.

I’m sitting here in hardly more than my underwear, but yesterday is what I’m embarrassed about. The memory of me yelling at him is what’s twisting my gut. The gnawing awareness that something feels different—something’s different abouthim—is what I can’t help but focus on. He seems calm. Settled.Resigned. It’s a little foreboding, to be honest, and when he starts to speak, I brace.

But then he surprises me.

“Is Lux okay?”

The question of the day. Truthfully, I have no idea. I did intend to find out. When I got to the ranch this morning, I was even channeling my friend—I was ready for an interrogation, ready to pry for answers the way Lux is so good at doing.

And then I found her floating around like yesterday didn’t even happen, like nothing was the matter, like she hadn’t heard Everett James’ name andshrunk.

My attempts to ask the same thing Hunter just did were shut down. Every question, denied. Even my help, she flippantly dismissed, claimed she didn’t need me today, suggested I take Aster on a ride. Confused hurt brought me to the creek, and it’s kept me here for most of the morning, even as that brewing storm finally starts to break.

None of that is what Hunter asked. None of that I want to explain—nor do I want to discuss the outrageous theory niggling the back of my mind with someone other than Lux. So, I shrug. A non-answer, the same one I give when he asks what I’m doing out here.

Thinkingwould be the truth.

Hidingis a lot more accurate.

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