Page 54 of An Unfinished Memory

She threw her hands up. “You can’t do that, Wilder. We’re not supposed to be—you and I—” She let her arms drop, her expression lost. “We’re over.”

The hell we were. I stood and ran my suddenly clammy hands down my jeans. “We’re not over. The way you respond to me isn’t a fluke. You weren’t enjoying your date, admit it.”

She waited a heartbeat before she answered, but I died a slow death from the contemplative way she stared at me. “I can admit it. You know why? You were supposed to be my last first date, Wilder.”

My gut clenched like she’d punched me in the stomach.

I hadn’t been her last first date. Regret washed up the back of my throat. She’d have another first date. Maybe another. She’d find a man who’d be her real last date.

“You were supposed to be the last time I had to make small talk with a man I just met wondering if I foundtheguy I could be with forever. It was supposed to beyouonthe other side of the table at Rattler’s I could gush to about how amazing the food was. You, Wilder. You were supposed to be thefirstandlastof everything in my love life. But you never put me first. Always last.”

Her deluge washed over me, but the last sentence yanked me into the present. “How can you say that? I asked you out at that horse show. I dated you. I asked you to marry me. What else did you want?”

“I wanted you to be around.”

We’d had this argument before, but I dove right in. The base of my skull prickled, warning me to let up. “I was around. I never left town, Sutton. I went to work, and I went home to you. I told you it’d get better, and you didn’t wait.”

“How long should I have postponed my life? All those trips you never took time off for? I was living the same life I swore as a kid I’d never live again. You came home to sleep and eat and fuck.” She waved her arm around the house. “And I guess that’s all we’re doing here.”

“What are you saying? You really want this to be over?” Fatigue crowded through my brain, pressing out into my temples. It’d been a long fucking year of adjusting to the divorce. Of being around my family and dying to hear what they knew about Sutton but acting like I had my shit together. As I was leaving town tonight, my coworker called. I’d made excuses to him about why I couldn’t take his call for the weekend. Then I flew here, acid eating through my guts at the thought of what I might see—or not see, which was worse. And now we were wading back into the scraps of our marriage, and I still didn’t fucking understand what else I could’ve done for her.

She shook her head. “I’m saying that maybe what we’re doing is making everything harder. I can’t move on, and…” Her expression turned stricken. “Neither can you.”

“You want me to move on, Sutton? The whole reason I ended up at your house was because you didn’t like the idea of me moving on.”

“With Carla,” she snapped.

“What about Stella Dobson? Or Hannah Ruiz?” Our family lawyer’s daughter had gotten engaged last month, but Sutton wouldn’t know that. “Or—or Cora Wang?”

I’d had to meet with the three of them about planning for an all-school reunion last year. I had made sure I was busy on the ranch the day of the reunion and was on patrol the rest of the time. Telling the women planning the event I was getting divorced had been like chewing busted glass. I wasn’t going to explain my life to the rest of our high school class. But during the interaction, each of them had let me know who was single.

“Yeah,” she said, sarcasm dripping from her tongue. “And I’ll show up in the back of the bar, so I can suck you off between beers.”

I didn’t know what I expected when I had come here tonight. My motivation had been so pathetically obvious I didn’t care to inspect it. I had needed to know what was happening on the date more than I needed to draw air into my lungs. I could blame the date for fucking up what Sutton and I had going, but the blame rested squarely on my shoulders, right next to the fault behind the divorce.

A pressure twined around my pants legs. The cat. Disbelief crossed Sutton’s face. I stooped and gave Berry a few scratches around her ears and earned a contented mewl in return.

“Maybe I should get a cat,” I said, knowing damn well I was going for a low blow. “Then I can have one female on this planet who hasn’t walked out on me.”

Sutton slid her gaze away, her jaw working.

I carefully stepped away from Berry and went to the door between the kitchen and the garage. I stepped into my boots, sensing her in the entry of the kitchen behind me. “Grayson’s game is Tuesday night. Cody’s grilling for everyone beforehand. Fair warning, I’m gonna be there.”

“I’ll just go to the game, then. I’ll give you time with your family without me making it awkward.”

Air leaked out of me. She sounded way too fucking calm. She was leaning against the wall, her face drawn, her eyes shining. I wanted nothing more in this world than to take her into my arms and carry her to bed. Kiss the tears away and fill her with pleasure. Ease the knots around my heart in the process.

But that was how we ended up rehashing the arguments that led to the divorce. So it was best to go. I’d work my shift and be back Tuesday. For my family only.

Twelve

Sutton

The weather was perfect for an early September evening. With the sun still high in the sky and the garage on Cody and Tova’s house blocking the wind, I should’ve been salivating for the good food lining the picnic table.

I might’ve been facing Aggie and Vienne, but my focus was on a certain pair of broad shoulders standing next to Cody and Ansen at the grill.

I wasn’t supposed to be here. I told him I would stay away so he could enjoy his night with his family. Yet I was parked next to his sister, with his youngest niece propped against my shoulder, her little puffs of air ruffling the strands of hair hanging out of my ponytail.

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