Page 4 of The Moment They Can Never Forgive
Ryder and Dan kept their eyes firmly on his face. Of uncertain age, Bart was one of Lyntacky’s octogenarians and a man Dan respected… though he didn’t respect his clothing choices.
“Heading out there now,” Dan said.
“Good.” Bart did a couple of lunges, and Ryder made a choking sound.
“Right, then, I’ll be off,” Bart said. “I’m in training for a marathon.”
“Have you run one before?” Dan asked.
Ryder stepped on his foot to shut him up.
“No, first one, but I’ll be ready.” Bart jogged away, raising a hand in farewell.
“You know the rule, bro, don’t engage Bart in conversation when he’s wearing those shorts, and he’ll leave,” Ryder said.
“Right, sorry. I forgot.” Dan took a long pull of his coffee.
“I wonder how you manage your work with being so absentminded,” Ryder teased.
“I remember the important stuff.”
“That’s good, then. Later, bro. I better get back and relieve Libby.”
“Yeah, later,” Dan said, taking another sip. This brother made excellent coffee, which was a good thing, as he was the one who owned the cafe.
Dan headed for his vehicle, opened the driver’s door, and set the cup in the holder. Even though he was a cop, his family still looked out for him. It drove him crazy… and made him happy in equal measure.
He opened the bag and took a large bite of the grilled cheese sandwich before turning the ignition and heading up Main Street. He raised a hand at someone in greeting but didn’t stop. Conversations in Lyntacky were never brief, and he had places to be.
Lyntacky was a small Colorado town with a big attitude. Trees, benches, and statues filled most of the open space not occupied by shops. It was an eclectic mix of charm and functionality, or so the mayor liked to say. The names of thebusinesses all had a connection to square dancing, the mayor’s personal obsession.
Life was good here. Better than good. Dan loved his job, even the crappy parts, and he loved his family. But lately, he’d been restless. He wasn’t sure what for, but something was bugging him.
Maybe he needed to date again. Settle down like the rest of his family. The problem was, he hadn’t met anyone in years who made him think that was an option.
He drove toward the Reynolds place, thinking about the women he’d dated recently. Fun, sure, but nothing lasting. Since Leah had left town, no one had come close to her.
His sister always said that when you formed a real connection with someone, you’d know they were the one. He’d laughed at her, but Dan knew exactly what Zoe meant. He’d had that connection with Leah Reynolds, even if they’d been too young to understand it until it was too late.
He’d gotten over Leah. Mostly. But that didn’t mean he didn’t think about her and wonder where she was, what she was doing. The fiery younger Reynolds daughter with herdon’t-mess-with-meattitude and that smile…. The one that lit up her whole pretty face.
Locals had kept an eye on her family farm over the years because no one else would. And maybe Dan, more than the others, felt a responsibility toward the Reynolds sisters.
Minutes later, he turned into the driveway. The place was run-down, badly in need of maintenance. It was obvious no one in the Reynolds family was coming back to handle that anytime soon. Maybe they’d sell it?
Dan took the fork toward the house rather than the barns Chuck Reynolds had built. Like everything on this property, he’d done nothing with them and then moved on to the next project he wouldn’t finish.
He squinted. Was that… a woman standing on the front step? It couldn’t be…
“Holy fuck,” Dan muttered, his pulse spiking.
Seven years, and there she was. Leah Reynolds. He hadn’t seen her since the day she’d told him to go to hell for what he’d done to her family. What he’dhadto do because it was his duty. He stomped down the guilt.
Dan hadn’t known she was back. No one had, or someone would have told him. He had known the town council had sent her and Cassie a letter about the state of the house. He’d figured they’d sell it. Apparently, he was wrong.
She didn’t move as Dan parked and got out, his heart thudding.
“Leah,” he said, approaching her the way one might a rattlesnake. She’d been unpredictable and volatile back then, so she probably still was. She’d also been kind, sweet, and so many other things when he’d taken the time to see past her defenses.
