Page 59 of The Cost of Forgetting You

“I’ll do it.” My voice sounds more confident than I am.

“Perfect,” a familiar voice calls from the living room. Truett’s sure strides thud down the hall, and he appears over Roberta’s shoulder, all smiles. “I’ll drive.”

I glance up at him and my jaw slackens. I’ve been so focused on getting mine and Dad’s health back to one-hundred percent that I’ve had no time to think about the conversation Truett and I had in my room, or even at the river. At the apology he never finished. The one I’m not even sure I’m owed. I don’t know what I want from him anymore, if anything at all, and that scares me. Going on a field trip with him right now isn’t exactly ideal.

My gaze falls from him to Roberta. All attempts at neutrality drop. I know this, because she winces, and her shoulders hit her ears. Sorry, she mouths. But the damage is done.

“Let’s go, Temptress.” He smirks. “We’re late for class.”

“Did you miss this?”

I snort. It comes out harsher than I intend, mostly because my nerves are eating me alive. I clear my throat and try for humor. “Miss what? Traffic jams that involve a train holding up the main thoroughfare through town?”

“This.” His hand sweeps in front of us. The train groans to life at last, moving forward to clear the tracks, letting the long line of waiting vehicles through. “Fly Hollow.”

My gaze cuts from the window to Truett’s profile. His jaw is taut as he chews on a thumbnail, but the rest of his face is relaxed. He’s got a faded Alabama football hat on backward. A tuft of dirty blond hair sticks through the gap on his bronzed forehead. It reminds me of weekends like this, when we’d hop into his truck and ride to the next town over to get a change of scenery. It’s a new truck but the same view. The floorboards are still dusted with grass clippings. The cab still smells of hay and fresh dirt. I breathe it in deeply but quietly. No need for him to know just how much I did, in fact, miss this.

He turns. Catches me staring. The thumb falls away, and a knowing smile ghosts his lips.

Heat flares in my cheeks. I roll my lips, trying to think of something to say. The first thing I can manage is, “Why would I miss this town? Nothing ever happens here.”

His eyes go wide. “Are you kidding?”

I stare at him, unsure of how I earned such a spirited response.

He shakes his head in disbelief. “Everything happens here, Delilah.”

I cross my arms over my chest, eyebrow arched. “Like what?”

The car in front of us pulls away, signaling our turn to go. Tru tears his eyes away to focus on the road, but I feel it still. The weight of his attention on me.

“Yesterday, a calf was born in my pasture.”

I don’t know what I expected him to say, but it wasn’t that. “Isn’t it a little late in the season for that?”

“Bull hopped the fence at an inopportune time,” he grumbles, swiping a hand over his face. “Got a few more coming thanks to that horny bastard.”

“Right. So a calf being born equals everything? Talk about a limited worldview.”

A muscle in his jaw ticks. “When did you get so uppity?”

My jaw slackens. I was mostly joking, but now irritation courses through me, solidifying my determination to win this weird argument. “I’m not uppity.”

“Are too.” His hand flexes on the steering wheel, the veins in his forearm popping.

“What are you, a child?”

Suddenly I’m careening into the center console as he yanks the wheel toward the shoulder and throws us into park there in the gravel. He turns, gaze fiery, as I right myself.

“What the hell, Tru?”

“Last week, Emily down at Sunshine Grocery said her baby took his first steps.”

I open my mouth, but he presses a finger to my lips, stopping my words along with my breath.

“Do you hear that?” He pauses and a familiar, low chime reaches my ears. “The church bells are ringing. Trinity Martin and Cole Whitcomb, you remember them? They just got married. Promised to grow old together in that little white church.”

I blink. I don’t know how we got here, but I’m tipped unsteady. The phrase poking the bear flits through my mind. Passion ripples underneath Tru’s skin. He’s looking at me hard, gaze raking over my flushed cheeks. My wide eyes. My parted lips, which he releases, though the burn of his touch remains.

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