Page 45 of Rewrite Our Story

He steps in front of the truck, the headlights illuminating his face perfectly. The yellow light shining on his face flawlessly captures the muscle angrily ticking on his jawline. Cade comes to a stop in front of me, his eyes searching my face for answers.

I wonder if he finds them or not. I hope not. Even after all the years we’ve known each other, I was hoping the time apart made it so he couldn’t see past my poker face.

“Being a liar doesn’t suit you, Goldie.” His words are angry, so much bitterness laced in his tone. Surprisingly, the goose bumps starting to appear on my skin aren’t from the cold. It’s from the subtle rage burning in his eyes.

“Stop telling me I’m lying when you don’t know what you’re talking about,” I fire back at him.

“You know exactly what this house is. What this spot is,” he says, raising his voice. He points behind him. “We spent summer nights under the stars going over your favorite floor plans, what you wanted in a house. Right here. At this spot. You can’t tell me you forgot that.”

I shrug. I remember every fucking second of it. It’s torture to recall a simpler time, a time where I thought love could overcome anything. It was a time that I thought Cade Jennings loved me the way I loved him.

I was so very, very wrong. And the fact that he remembers—and that he’s carrying out with the plan—makes me want to break down right here in front of him. How dare he still make good on his promises when he’s broken so many before.

Cade takes a step closer to me. Our chests brush against one another, our angry, deep inhales and exhales falling in sync. “You called me a coward when you left this town.” He laughs sarcastically. “It’s funny because the only fucking coward I see here is you. I’m trying to open up to you, to be honest with you—something I remember you begging for in the past—and here you are, lying to my fucking face. Do you really think that low of me, Goldie? Do you really think I wouldn’t know when you’re lying?”

My lip quivers as my head rocks back and forth. “I don’t…” my voice breaks, “I don’t remember.”

He shakes his head at me in disbelief. I see the disappointment written all over his face.

I once had called him a coward. But the way he dismissed my love years ago made me into who I am today. He may hate it, but he made me this way. He made me afraid to feel anything. I felt everything with him. When we ended, I had to attempt to feel nothing at all.

“Let me remind you then,” he declares, taking angry steps toward the wooden beams that’ll eventually become a home—his home. The one we’d planned out in vivid detail when we were just two kids who didn’t put much thought into what it really meant to be an adult.

I keep my feet planted by his truck. Maybe if I don’t follow him, he’ll stop throwing accusations my way. Maybe if I stay far enough away, he won’t be able to see right through every lie I’ve cowardly uttered tonight.

He stops at the right side of the house, opening his arms wide. “We’d talked about how we loved the entryway at my parents’ house. So this one is planned to be even bigger!” he yells, making sure I hear every word he says.

Cade takes a few steps closer to the center of the house. “You once said you loved the idea of a breakfast nook that overlooked the mountains, a space you could sit and write at. Well, right there is where the biggest nook my contractor has ever built is going in.”

“Stop,” I shout, my hands running through my hair. “I don’t want to hear any more.”

Pinching my eyes shut, I try to imagine myself anywhere else with him. I pretend that this isn’t happening. That Cade isn’t rocking my world all over again.

I’m supposed to be over him. I’d worked so hard to forget him. Yet here he is, breaking down every defense I’ve created in his name.

“I don’t give a fuck what you want, Goldie!” he yells. I’m glad he’s so far away. I don’t want to get a front row seat to the hurt that overtakes his face. “You’re going to listen. You’re going to remember,” he spits. “Since apparently you’veso convenientlyforgotten.”

Cade steps in an opening between two wood beams. I can’t see the bottom half of him. A very messed up part of me wants to follow him up the hill, to see the house he’s building for himself up close. I keep my feet firmly planted.

I don’t want to know what he has planned for the future. It doesn’t matter. I won’t be here to see it. I can’t bear it. My stomach rolls at the thought of who he could share this house with one day. One thing is for certain, it won’t be with me.

“Up those stairs they’ve framed out will be guest rooms, maybe even a couple rooms for future children, as well as an office that will have a built-in bookshelf lining three of the walls.”

My eyes flutter shut once again, remembering a night long ago when we’d planned the house he’s describing perfectly.

24

MARE - AGE NINETEEN

“Got any plans tonight, Goldie?”

I smile at Cade, admiring the way his arms look in his current position. He has them hiked over his head, holding on to the top of the entrance to Dolly’s stall. He leans forward a bit, his shirt straining against his growing muscles with the position.

My hand drifts over Dolly’s mane before I run a comb through it. “It depends,” I answer, my voice lowered. I think all of the stable hands have gone home for the night, but you can never be too sure. Pippa is gone for the weekend, at some workshop in Denver for aspiring pastry chefs, so at least I’m confident that she won’t hear the conversation between her brother and me.

Cade clutches his chest, his lips turning down in a dramatic frown. “Depends on what?” he asks carefully.

I shake my head. I like this slightly playful side of him. The more time we spend together this summer, the more I’m learning that even though I thought I knew everything there was to know about Cade, I didn’t.

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