Page 75 of An Unfinished Memory

“Nine?”

I nodded. Now that he’d tapped the well, words flooded my brain. I turned and walked slower. The path was wide enough for us to walk staggered, not quite side by side, but the edges of the trail were level. “Just once or twice. Then I turned ten, and I don’t know, it was legal or something. Honestly, I liked it better. I didn’t have friends at the rink. My parents were glued to what Honey did. At least at home I had TV.”

“Damn.” Wilder kept off the sparse vegetation. “So you stayed home and watched game shows?”

“Game shows, soap operas, primetime. The news. Everything that I could get without cable. They were safety conscious in that they didn’t want me tellinganyone I was home all night most nights by myself. Then I was fifteen, and the weekend trips started.”

His boots skidded to a stop. “They left youalonefor the entire weekend?”

I nodded and kept walking. I didn’t need to see his face to know how fucked up my childhood was. I also didn’t want to see the pity for the girl whose own family hadn’t wanted to be around. “Mom and Dad didn’t think of it as neglect, but I can see that it was.”

“Fuck, Sutton. I’m sorry.”

I knew he would be. It wouldn’t change how I had grown up. “I didn’t have much of a social life, and I was cooped up. I couldn’t really play outside in case I got hurt. Who’d know?”

“You had your cats?”

“A dog would need walks, and there was the safety issue. When I started being home all week and weekend, then Mom relented and got me the cats.” They’d both been older rescues and had passed by the time I met Wilder. But they were the reason I wanted to be a vet. Those cats had been my companions.

“You know that’s all kinds of fucked up, right?”

“I do. They don’t.”

“You think that’s why they keep their distance? They feel guilty?”

I stopped again and faced him again. “Maybe? But I doubt it. They’re too self-centered to realize how their actions hurt me.”

He stepped closer, blocking out the worst of the sun. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

I licked my dry lips and gathered my courage. So much for no heavy talks. “Because if I told you, and youstill didn’t change, the hurt would’ve been worse. And I didn’t think you’d change.”

I held my breath. Would he get defensive like he used to when we talked about his schedule? Would we reenact an old argument? Would he agree?

He furrowed his brow. Pain flashed in his eyes. “Sutton.”

He’dheardme, and it hurt him. I put a hand on his warm shoulder, the bulge of the backpack strap under my palm. “You might’ve at first. Then the obligations and expectations would’ve gotten to you. That’s the thing with being the independent kid. You know that when people realize how self-sufficient you are, they forget that you still need support.”

“Goddammit, I want to believe I would’ve been better.”

“I know, but ultimately, that’s why this will only ever be a long-term, long-distance fling for me. I don’t know if I’ll ever get over you, Wilder. But now you know how I feel, and you understand why I can’t risk more with you. I refuse to be dependent on anyone’s timeline, which is probably why I’ll never be interested in dating and getting married again. So this arrangement we have? It suits me. Does it suit you?”

Disbelief and sadness filled his eyes, and he gripped my hand.

Laughter and voices came from the parking area. In minutes, people would be rounding the curve around a short outcropping and see us.

I couldn’t put this conversation in a time capsule and save it for later. It was done. “We should keephiking.”

Wilder

After our talk yesterday, we’d settled into a comfortable routine where we didn’t discuss the future as it pertained to us. We’d walked through the rest of town, dipped into more souvenir shops, hit up the ice cream place again, and generally got lost among the crowd of people roaming the small town until the musical started.

It was Sunday night. Tomorrow, Sutton wanted to pack up and leave mid-morning so she could clean and unpack and enjoy the afternoon. I had a campfire going. Oreo lay on the ground beside my chair, and Sutton was on my lap, her legs stretched out and cradled in mine. My ankles were crossed, and we watched the fire crackle.

In between our chatter about what we saw, the early Christmas gifts she bought Grayson, Ivy, and Ro, and a little onesie for Cody’s new baby when it arrived, my thoughts turned to her revelations from yesterday.

Not only had what she said about the way she’d been neglected growing up shocked me, but the truth of her admission about why she’d kept quiet left a churning pit in my soul. A swirl of guilt and regret and the pathetic realization that she’d been right. I would’ve tried to change. And then I’d go to a Buffalo Gully football game or basketball game or some other school function, and I’d see myself in the kids. I’d remember how lost I’d felt. How worthless. And Ray had been my lifeline. He’d seen me, and for the second oldest of five siblings, I’d needed to be individualized. I’d needed to be set in a straight line and be told I was good for more than morning chores and cattle drives and horse hauling.

Sutton hadn’t had that. She’d had two cats and twoparents who checked in on her. Now she had a family who included her. Who went out of their way to invite her. Was being with me—again—threatening her standing with them? Eliot had seemed more upset with me, but he wasn’t Sutton’s best friend.

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