Page 13 of Delta
I won’t ever forget that first year though. How happy I was, thinking he was reaching out, only to find out that he had no intention of ever moving past the chasm of brokenness between us ever since he got home. It made me feel like a fool, and I’d gone home a mess of tears.
Never. Again.
I’m just reaching for the handle of my car when Ruth Hunt calls my name.
With a forced smile, I turn to face Dylan’s mother. She’s one of the sweetest humans I’ve ever met, and I absolutely adore her, but if she’s there, then Dylan’s not far. He always rides with his parents on Sunday mornings.
Ruth rushes forward and embraces me, her floral perfume familiar and welcoming as she wraps both arms around me. “Girl, you are aging backward.”
I laugh, appreciating the compliment while also grateful that Dylan seems to not have followed her out here. Maybe he’s inside with his dad. “I appreciate that, Mrs. Hunt, but it is so not true.”
“It is absolutely true.” She smiles at me. Growing up, I spent so much time with the Hunts that Ruth practically became a second mom to me. Between hanging out with Lani and my relationship with Dylan, the Hunt Ranch was my home away from home.
Though, ever since Dylan came home, it might as well be a foreign country. I barely set foot on the property, except for the times I help Ruth with charity stuff for the church or the occasional girls’ night hosted by one of the brothers’ wives.
“Well, thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Any big plans?” she asks.
“Dinner with Talia and Connor.”
“That’s so wonderful.” She smiles, then eyes the box of vases in the backseat of my car. Oh no. Does she know? “Those are lovely.”
“Thanks. They were a gift.”
“A well-deserved one,” she replies. “I hope you have a great day, sweetheart. Please, don’t be a stranger. I miss seeing you.”
The emotional war in my chest is all-consuming, but I fight to keep it together. I have to keep it together. “You too.”
A man clears his throat behind me. “Uh, Emmaline Franklin?”
I turn at the mention of my name, the voice unfamiliar, and see a handsome, dark-haired man lingering off to the right.
“I’ll leave you to it, honey. Happy birthday.” Ruth gives me one final hug, then heads back toward the church. But the smile on her face as she surveys the man, then me, doesn’t quite reach her eyes.
“Yes. That’s me. Sorry. Do I know you?”
He smiles, and a dimple appears near the right side of his mouth. “No, you don’t know me. Not yet, anyway.” He outwardly cringes. “That was—wow. Sorry, I just—I don’t know how to do this.”
“Do what?”
He laughs. “Can we go somewhere to talk?”
I open my mouth to tell him that I have somewhere else to be, but then I notice Dylan lingering near the porch steps, staring intently at me. Both hands are curled into fists at his sides, but he makes no move to close the distance between us.
Is that jealousy?
Good. Which, of course, I know isn’t a kind way to think about it, but right now, I’m struggling with who I should strive to be and the pettiness of knowing he’ll suffer, not knowing why I’m talking to this man wins.
“Sure. We can walk over to the diner, if that works? It’s right there.” I point toward the diner, and he turns to follow my gesture.
“That works. Thanks.” He waits for me to start walking before following along, and I’m so struck by Dylan’s gaze fixed on us that I don’t even realize I haven’t asked this man his name until we’re crossing the street together.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t ask you your name.”
“And I’m sorry that I completely forgot to tell you.” He reaches for the door and pulls it open. I move inside, and he follows.
“Hey, honey,” Talia greets.
