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To outsiders, the ranch is ours

But legally, Oliver Abbott’s name is on every last deed, document, and pink slip

He could take everything if he wanted—the only thing stopping him is my compliance

“Does your father know you’re here?” I ask

Her nose crinkles as she examines me “Yeah Why?”

“No reason”

No reason that I could give her, anyway …

Rising froging her keys from the inside

“I was your person,” I say before she goes “For the record I was your person It was real And I loved you”

Her chin dips and her gaze falls doard

“What changed?” she asks after a long pause Her whiskey-hued eyes rise onto mine

“I wish I could say,” I answer It’s the truth in every sense of the word

The keys jangle in her hand and she chews the inner corner of her rosebud mouth “You really haven’t dated anyone since I left?”

I’ve had offers and opportunities, but it never felt right In my mind and in my heart, I was still with her, as ridiculous as it sounded It didn’t need to make sense to anyone but me

“Not a soul,” I say

“You’re a strange one,” she says, an ode to one of the first things I ever said to her We were maybe fifteen, and it was the third day in a row she’d asked to borrow a pencil from me in the back of our social studies class While we’d been trading stolen looks all week, neither one of us had e to break any ice at that point—until the bell rang that day and she chased me into the hall to hand oing to ask for it again the next day

With a coy smile she asked, “Am I that obvious?”

“Obvious,” I said “And a little strange”

“Explain,” she demanded as alked the hall side by side

“Would if I could,” I quipped before ducking intoher du her all week—trying to littery Chuck Taylors and the way she’d hum showtunes under her breath at random intervals, and how she had this innate desire for everyone to love her while si out from the crowd