Page 100 of The Rogue

I suck in a deep breath. “The similarities were…very distracting.”

Her eyes water. “Jackson’s mother reminds me of my father. He left when I was a baby and would come back every so often for God knows what. Sex, money, a change of heart. Who knows. I know what you mean when you say Jackson doesn’t care about her anymore. After a while, you just give up. They become a stranger you just hope will leave as soon as they come.”

I lean in to kiss her forehead, grateful for the insight into her life.

“She left, too. When I was seventeen.”

I frown as my mind races. “You lived alone? How?”

She smiles like it’s a happy memory. “Until the house foreclosed. Then, I'd stay with friends, snuck into the Y…I survived.”

“Where was this?”

“Chicago.”

“A city girl.”

She looks around. “City girl obsessed with small towns.”

I chuckle. “Why’s that?”

“Where else am I going to cause trouble and make sexy cowboys yell at me?”

I grin, sliding my hand down to her hips. “Now, how about the real reason?”

“I suppose it’s the slow pace of life. The connections and community. It’s more about big hearts around here than big pockets. The mountains aren’t all that bad to look at either.”

I chance another question. “Is that what Summer Hill is like?”

Her grin fades, and her eyes drop back to my chest. “It’s nothing like here.”

“Then what’s keeping you from staying?”

Fear flashes in her eyes when they meet mine. And I want to make it go away. I’d take anything back to make it go away.

That’s not who I am.

I confront.

I face problems head on instead of avoiding them.

But Tessa is a whole new ballgame.

One I’d play outside the rules to win.

So I backtrack.

“I meant all those times you came to Hideaway Springs. What kept you from staying? Besides the minor detail that a sexy cowboy tried to run you out of town.”

She scoffs. “I don’t know. Unfinished business, I guess. I’ve got Bessie and…” She trails off and looks up with a grin. “I can tell you one thing for certain. This is my favorite time spent in this town. I’m going to miss it.”

For a short second, I’m angry with her for thinking I’m going to let her go, for planning to leave. Until I remember I never asked her to stay.

And I need to be certain she won’t keep leaving us before I do.

“You still have two weeks.”

She nods and sits up in bed, reaching for my T-shirt. It’s what she does when she’s about to slide out of bed and tiptoe across the hall to her room.

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