Page 77 of Rancher's Return

“And why is that, exactly, Lily?”

He wanted to hear her say it.

“Because we never recovered from our breakup. Because we don’t act like stepsiblings, we act like exes. Because no matter how hard we try, it’s what we are.”

Chapter Three

She felt like an idiot. She had broken the most sacred, unspoken oath that she had ever taken. To never, ever signal to him that she wasn’t over it. That she thought about him like that all the time. That she thought aboutthem.

No. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. She was supposed to be stronger, braver, smarter. But everything had gone sour inside of her when he had mentioned Beth. Was she really no better than that? Getting jealous because all of a sudden he had mentioned a woman by name?

That was hideous. Awful.

But she was stagnant. When it came to love and sex and moving on, she hadn’t managed to figure out how to do that. She had known there would be a time when both of them would, when they had to. She had intentionally put herself in a holding pattern through college, and it had seemed reasonable. Her mom had instilled in her a fair amount of worry when it came to unexpected pregnancy, and that had been reason enough to focus on her studies instead of being sexually active. At least, that was what she told herself most days. Because telling the truth, making it about Colton, was too painful.

But the idea that he might have somebody else when she didn’t, that stung.

Oh, she was certain there had been other women. But he had never mentioned any of them. And now there was a name. It made her real; it made her important.

He had someone else.

As long as Lily had played this game of chicken, as long as they had been engaged in a game where they didn’t mention their past, she could believe he was as wound up as she was. She could believe he was as tangled up in all this as she was. But he had mentioned Beth, and Lily had swerved, so she was the loser. She was the one who oh so clearly couldn’t deal with it. She was the one who wasn’t over it.

And that was a significantly humiliating thing.

More than that, it ached. Like a lance straight to the heart.

But instead of acknowledging it, and instead of dealing with it, she got in his truck and slammed the door closed behind her. She could hear her own breathing echoing around her; she hated the silence. She hated all of it. She tried to take a breath, and her chest hurt. Everything hurt.

He got in the car, and he didn’t say anything.

She recognized the game he was playing. This one where he didn’t look at her so he could try to make her feel unimportant.

Or maybe it isn’t a game. You just are unimportant to him. Because he has Beth, and he’s normal, and he doesn’t care about the fact that you thought you were in love with him when you were seventeen.

That was galling.

The drive back to the house was short, and neither of them said anything.

“Look,” she said as they pulled up. “Groceries.”

There was a stack of brown bags against the door, and she wished she hadn’t said anything, because she really was doing the most to betray how disturbed she was by all of this.

She couldn’t have made it more obvious if she had tried.

As soon as he put the truck in Park, she all but fell out of it, her shoes crunching on the icy gravel as she scampered up to grab the groceries, feigning an interest in them that simply didn’t exist. Not on the level that she was trying to portray.

She was far too aware of him as he unlocked the door and opened it, picking up the majority of the groceries and following her inside.

“We gotta at least get the refrigerated stuff put away,” she said.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said.

“That’s what you have to say? Yes, ma’am?”

Because he was still doing it. He wasn’t commenting on what she had said, and if he was normal about it all, he would have. If it wasn’t a game, he simply would have asked her if she was still bothered by their past relationship.

“You don’t have anything to say?”

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