Page 29 of Just Can't Fall for the Enemy

“If that was his dying wish, yes. I think people’s last requests should be respected.”

“But that isn’t him anymore. It’s a box of bones. The people who own the barn should have a say too.”

“It’s a burial place. It’s sacred. Untouchable.”

He pursed his lips. “But for how long? Some of his great-grandchildren have likely passed by now.”

“And they should be upholding his legacy more than anyone,” I snapped. “It’s how we honor the people who lived before us, following through with what they wanted—for their sakes and ours alike.”

He stared at me for a long moment. “This isn’t really about the dead guy in the barn, is it?”

I didn’t know anymore. I slid my hand from his, turned, and walked back toward the carnival. A couple of minutes later, I heard his footsteps following at a respectful distance. I think he could tell I didn’t want to talk just then, but I also detected a frustration that meant he had a lot of unanswered questions. I just wasn’t sure I had any of the answers he wanted.

When we reached the park, I kept walking to my car and unlocked it.

“Sophie,” he said, reaching me at last. “If I said something offensive or hurtful—”

“You didn’t. I hope you got the footage you needed.”

For the second time that week, I pulled out and drove away, looking back only once to see him standing there, watching. Nothing had changed since that first time. Yet, somehow, everything had.

I brushed a tear aside so I could see clearly to drive. In three days, it would be ten years since I said goodbye to my parents for the last time.

A decade, yet the pain sometimes came back so strongly I couldn’t breathe.

Twelve

What just happened?In utter confusion, I watched Sophie drive off. Again.

Trying to distract myself by taking more video footage of the carnival only made me frustrated. I saw her in everything and felt her absence everywhere. After the tenth conversation with a fan who asked where Sophie had gone off to, I climbed into my car and sank into the seat, replaying our conversation in my mind. My brain couldn’t pick out a single word that could have set her off like that. Women were strange creatures.

I drove to the grocery store and slipped in just before it closed for the night. It would take a while to get used to the hours of small-town businesses.

You’re leaving soon, remember? Your next stop is Columbus, Ohio, where you’ll start all over again. Just like always.

The thought made me sad. I couldn’t leave Sophie like this, clearly upset. The only appropriate goodbye would be to take her into my arms and . . .

Whoa, cowboy. Not going there.

A woman dressed in yoga pants and a heavy hoodie slid through the closing automatic doors and made a beeline for the frozen section in the far back. A twinge of a dark braid escaped her hood. It looked familiar.

“Wait!” I called after her, but she sprinted away down the bread aisle.

I turned down the next aisle and ran to head her off, getting a startled look from a father with a wailing toddler. Sophie’s roommate, Carmen, stood right where I’d guessed she would be—in front of the ice cream section.

“I need to talk to you,” I said.

She turned to look at me, her eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Not until I get an explanation.”

I slid a hand behind my neck, feeling more baffled than ever. “I was hoping you could give me one. One minute we were talking, and the next she was driving away. Is she all right?”

“She’ll be fine once I get some . . .” She looked at the carton in her hand. “Elk tracks with extra chocolate into her system.”

“Here,” I said, grabbing a glass bottle of fudge off an end cap and handing it to her. “Maybe this will help.”

She took it warily. “At least tell me how your conversation went? She won’t say a thing.”

I tried to think. “I met Nate, but she wouldn’t let me talk to him very long, and then she was really quiet when we went to the cemetery.”

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