Page 29 of Every Promise Broken

Taking a right onto the long, windy, gravel road that leads to Grazing Acres Ranch, I swallow against the lump in my throat, knowing that the time has come. This morning, I move—temporarily—back into the home that houses so many of my memories, both good and bad. I will be sleeping in the very bed I used to share with my husband once upon a time. Eating at the dinner table across from him like we’ve done hundreds of days in the past.

It’s taking everything in my power to not turn my car around and say fuck it to the whole idea. But I gave Conrad my word, and I can’t go back on that. It’s not who I am.

I can do this.

It’s only for a few weeks.

And it’s not like we’ll be all alone. His nana will be here. Well, she won’t be here for another couple of days, but after that, she’ll be here. She’ll be our buffer. Nothing is going to happen. It’s going to be fine.

Totally fine.

Why do those feel like famous last words?

It’s late Saturday morning, so I’m not at all surprised to see Conrad stroll out of the barn, baseball cap pulled down over his broody, dark eyes, red plaid shirt rolled up his forearms, as I park out front. He spots me, tipping his chin at me as he walks over.

“Hey,” he grunts, grabbing my suitcase from the back.

“You don’t have to do that,” I murmur. “I can take my own stuff.”

He ignores me as he takes another bag in his other hand.

“Good talk,” I mumble, shutting the door to my truck before following him inside. Upon entering, I’m hit with the scent of him. It makes me dizzy, and it doesn’t help the churning in my gut. The last time I was here, I stayed on the porch where it’s safe. Meaning, the last time I was inside this house was the night I let things go way too far.

The night I’ve tried my damndest to push out of my mind. An effort that has been futile.

Conrad’s long legs and heavy feet carry him across the hardwood floor, down the hall toward the guestroom I’ll be occupying before his nana takes my place. Somehow it doesn’t hit me until I walk through the threshold that this room istheroom. And, of course, it is. Why wouldn’t it be? This house has only three bedrooms, and the other spare room is essentially a storage dump. I know this, yet completely failed to put two and two together.

So, not only am I going to have to sleep next to my ex-husband in the bed we used to share for a few weeks, but in the meantime, I’m going to be sleeping in here…the last place Conrad and I were naked together. Where we touched. And kissed. And did a hell of a lot more than that.

Cool.

It’s fine.

Totallyfine.

Conrad clears his throat, setting my suitcase on the floor and my bag on the bed. “I washed the sheets a couple days ago, so everything is fresh and clean.” I can’t look at him, but I know we’re thinking the same thing. “There’re washcloths and towels in the hall closet, and the bathroom is stocked with stuff you’ll need.”

“Oh, you didn’t have to do that,” I say quietly. “I brought stuff from home.”

“It’s no big deal.” Taking two long strides toward the door, Conrad glances back over at me. “I’ve got some work to do outside, but I figured you’d like the peace and quiet to get settled. I cleared some drawers for you in my dresser and made space for you in the closet to hang your clothes. I’ll be back inside in a couple of hours, so I’ll make us some lunch then.”

My chest aches with how uncomfortable this feels. Howpoliteand tense. There’s no way he’s not remembering the last time we were in this room, just like I am. There’s no way he’s not remembering the way he kissed me like his life depended on it, or the way he utterly and completely man-handled me in the very best way. There’s no way he’s not remembering the way I fell asleep in his arms immediately after, sleeping harder than I have in who knows how long.

There’s no way he’s not.

Because it’s all I can think about. The memory is palpable as it surrounds us, bouncing off these four walls like a ping-pong ball.

Realizing he’s still watching me, and I haven’t said a single word, I nod, clearing my throat. “Okay, thank you.”

Once he’s disappeared down the hall, I let out a breath before sitting on the edge of the bed. I need to unpack—Iwantto unpack—but I’m going to need a minute to calm my nerves before I can talk myself into going into Conrad’s bedroom to do just that. That room has more memories than anywhere on this property combined. My heart is in my throat, and I honestly couldn’t say how long I sit here on the edge of this bed before I work up the courage to get started.

Conrad’s room is just as I remember it. It’s simple. A king-size bed, two dark oak nightstands that he built himself, and a dresser on the far wall that he also built.

Notes of amber fill the air, mixed in with a scent I can only describe as ranch life. It’s a scent that is wholly Conrad, and thenostalgia it brings wraps around me like a heated blanket. The bed is made—not well, but it is made. A blue, white, and black plaid comforter overtop what looks to be navy blue sheets. It’s a poster, sturdy, dark wood bedframe that he’s had since before we got married. My eyes land on the small nick on one of the posts, and I smile, remembering how it got there.

When we got married, he moved into the loft above the barn with me, and he insisted on bringing his bed and getting rid of the small double I had up there. He and his dad struggled maneuvering the frame up the stairs and ended up whacking it on the entryway to the loft. He was so pissed off, he was practically steaming from his ears. I couldn’t hide the chuckle that came out of me, seeing him so frustrated. I remember the way he glanced up, catching me laughing, and his shoulders visibly relaxed, like the sight of me alone made him feel better. He came over and kissed me, and then later that night, we made love on this very bed with the moonlight spilling in from the curtains.

Heat rolls down my spine, my throat tight as I shake off the memory and the way being with him that night felt.

---