30. Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty

Hannah

Maybe it was telling Remi about Graham, or it could’ve been enough time had passed, but a week later, I woke up in Remi’s bed with a burst of energy. He was still fast asleep, and I wanted him to stay that way. His sleep had been so fitful lately he’d developed dark smudges beneath his eyes. There was a lot he needed to work out, and I wondered if he should have been doing it during daylight hours instead of relegating it to his unconscious mind.

But I wasn’t sure it was my place to say that, so I did the best I could to take care of him when we were awake and soothe away his troubles during the night.

Moving carefully, I slipped from our bed and padded down the hall to Graham’s bedroom. His clothes were still on the bed, exactly where Remi had left off in his task.

Shutting the door, I sat on the edge of the bed, closed my eyes, and inhaled deeply, nearly whimpering at how faint Graham’s scent had become. He’d been gone for months now. An entire season. It felt like yesterday and forever at the same time.

The task of cleaning out his room was past due, but I needed to be the one to do it. I hadn’t been ready until this morning. Now that I was in here, looking at the piles that were just things and not at all who Graham was, I couldn’t remember exactly why I’d insisted on keeping all this stuff.

Once I got going, I was a whirlwind, stacking bags filled with old T-shirts, worn-out jeans, sweaters older than me. I set aside a few flannels and tees I wanted for myself. A few belts I thought Remi might want to keep, but the rest was prepped to go. Someone would make good use of it. Sitting here, it was wasted.

I had no idea how long I’d been at it when the door squeaked open, startling me out of my hyperfocus. In my surprise, I let loose the item in my hand. When it connected with Remi’s forehead, I thanked my lucky stars I’d been holding a pair of socks and not the paperweight I’d had minutes before.

“Holy shit!” I exclaimed, my blood racing in my ears. “Give a girl a warning, why don’t you!”

Remi, smooth operator he was, caught the socks as they bounced off his head with a laugh. “I was looking all over for you, calling your name. I would’ve had to be a herd of bison to make more noise.”

Pressing my hand to my thrashing heart, I looked around the room, shocked at all I’d gotten done. “I was in the zone. I didn’t hear you at all. Sorry for throwing things at you again.”

He approached, circling his arm around my waist to haul me into him. I earned a kiss on the cheek, then the corner of my mouth, followed by my lips.

“I thought you left,” he murmured.

“I wouldn’t leave without saying goodbye.” I laid my hands on his bare chest. It was warm and solid. “You should know by now, when I wake up, I’m really awake. I got the idea in my head to come in here and finish what you started, so that’s what I’ve been doing.”

“I missed having you in my armpit when I woke up.” He looked around his dad’s bedroom, landing on the garbage bags I’d stacked in one corner. “You’re clearing it all out?”

“Yeah. It’s time. I set aside a few things. He wore in his flannels to perfection, so I’m stealing them. There’s nothing softer than a flannel that’s been worn and washed three hundred times, you know?”

“It’s not stealing, sweetheart. They’re yours. He left them to you.”

“Half mine, but I figured you wouldn’t want them. You’re not really a flannel guy.”

“You figured right.”

I separated from him to show him the belts I thought he might want. “These were handmade by a leather artisan in Laramie. They’re heavy duty and in really good shape. And while you’re not a flannel guy, you are a cool leather belt guy.”

He took the belts from me, running the length of one along his palm. It had a basket weave pattern with a wolf embossed on the sides. “I remember him wearing this one when I was a kid. My mom was the one who’d discovered the artisan. She gave this to him for one of his birthdays. Since I can recall it, it must’ve been the last one before she died.” His fingers curled around it. “It’ll be more a part of her than him, but yeah, I’d like to keep it. Thank you for knowing that, Hannah.”

I smiled, soft and sad. “He told me his bride had started his collection.”

Remi’s gaze jerked to me. “His bride? I’d forgotten he’d called her that. I guess that’s because he stopped talking about my mom when she died. Hell, he stopped talking to me at all.”

Tingles ran along my skin from the strange detachment in his voice. But then, he sounded the same way every time he spoke about his father. Even when I’d spilled my history with Graham, he’d been caring and gentle, but like he’d said, it was as though I’d told him a story about someone he’d never met.

He’d been the same when talking about his ex. Seattle . Two years together, and she’d been relegated to the city they’d lived in. Would I become Sugar Brush when he talked about me one day? Another one in his long line of temporary home bases?

Well, there was no sense in fretting about that right now. I couldn’t see the future, and I liked Remi far too much to snatch my heart away now.

I probably more than liked him, but I definitely wasn’t going there. Not yet. Not until I knew the ground we were on was steady.

Once bitten, twice shy and all that.

Remi hooked his arm around my neck, hauling me into him again. I earned a firm kiss on my forehead.

“We’ll take these bags out to my truck later, drive them into town to the donation center.” Another kiss, this time on my temple. “You did a good job, sweetheart. You got a lot of work done before the sun even knew it was daytime, and some of it was with me on your mind. Now I have you on my mind, and I want to make my girl breakfast and spend our day together.”

Oh yeah. I definitely more than liked him. I let my body lean into him but tried my mightiest to keep my heart from doing the same.

“Sounds like a really good plan, Remington…as long as there are sprinkles.”

He smiled into my hair. “Of course. I’d never short you on sprinkles.”

“You know, before you came along, I ate a blueberry muffin every single day. Deviating from that would have thrown me off the rest of my day. But now I’m eating waffles with sprinkles sometimes, and my days are…well, let’s just say they’re not bad.”

“Not bad? Guess I’ll take that as a compliment.” He laughed softly.

“I meant it as one.”

“My days with you are…not bad either, sweetheart. I’m glad to be the one to add sprinkles into your life. A colorful girl deserves a colorful breakfast.”

I squeezed my eyes shut. “That’s sweet. Real sweet.”

And that was why my mightiest wasn’t even close to good enough. My heart was Remington Town’s, damn the consequences.

As much as I would have liked to be the kind of woman who lazed about on a rare Sunday with no plans on the horizon, that wasn’t me. After breakfast, Remi and I finished clearing out Graham’s bedroom. I boxed up the few things I wanted and secretly suspected Remi might have liked to have in the future, and we loaded the rest into Remi’s truck to drop off in town.

There, we stopped in for a cup of coffee and a treat at Sugar Rush and got the latest gossip from Phe. Apparently, Brady and Teller had been in earlier, whisper-yelling about Brady texting some girl from his work. It ended with Brady getting a cup of—iced—coffee dumped in his lap and Teller storming out.

I wished I could have seen that, but my sister’s animated recounting of the events was almost as good as being there—especially the bit about Brady chasing after his wife, leaving a stream of coffee and ice cubes down the sidewalk.

It was pretty hard to feel sorry for two people who so thoroughly deserved each other.

When we got back to the house, I started for the porch, but Remi grabbed my hand, weaving our fingers together.

“Let’s go for a walk, sweetheart.”

I nodded. “That sounds like a good idea.”

Henry kept a path cleared around the property. We trailed along, nowhere in particular to go, letting the sun warm us. Soon enough, the wind would become bitter, and spending long lengths of time outdoors would be pretty unbearable.

Remi might not be here by then. I couldn’t say I’d blame him if he left before winter fully set in. I always thought I was used to Wyoming cold, but when it hit every year, the brutality came as a shock. It’d be even colder this year without Remi, though.

“What’s the deal with Teller and her husband? Brady?” he asked.

“Oh god, what isn’t the deal? They’ve been together since we were in high school, and Brady’s been cheating on her ever since.”

His brow dropped. “Does she know that?”

“I couldn’t fathom her not knowing. Feels like the whole town knows. Of course, that’s because they like to air their dirty laundry out in public. It might be some kind of kink.”

He sputtered. “A kink thing? Expand on that.”

“Yeah, like Brady gets off on being degraded by his wife. I can’t think of any other reason he’d go along with having a fight in the bakery on a Sunday morning where half the town is going in and out, picking up their pastries and coffee.”

He made a gurgling sound in the back of his throat. “I don’t want to think about what they went home and did.”

“No—gross!” With a pained groan, I knocked my head into his shoulder. “Don’t put that idea in my head, Remington.”

“You brought up their kink. This is all on you.”

We fell into laughter, which led to a short make-out session, thoroughly wiping every gross image of Brady and Teller away before continuing our walk. When we came upon the stables, Remi steered us that way. I went with him, even though I knew what we’d find inside.

Emptiness.

He pushed open the creaky door and flicked on the lights. For a building that’d been abandoned for years, it didn’t have a haunted feel and that was because Henry kept it in such good shape. He hadn’t allowed nature to take over or vermin to move in. If we had a horse who needed a place to stay, it could have been moved in today.

Remi sauntered down the row of six vacant stalls, his hands on his hips. Stopping at the end, his back to me, he stated, “He sold my horse when she died.”

“You had a horse?” I asked, still by the entrance.

He wrapped his fingers around the metal grill at the top of the stall door. “He was my mom’s. She declared him mine when I was seven or eight. A sorrel gelding named Huck. I learned to ride on him. Spent most of my early years with him. Then, one day, my mom was gone, and a couple weeks later, so was Huck. He sold all the horses, but losing Huck gutted me.”

He was telling me this devastating story while once again sounding removed from it all. I couldn’t say I felt the same. Pressing my hand to my topsy-turvy belly, I breathed through a wave of nausea. I’d known Graham had sold his horses when he couldn’t bring himself to take care of them properly, but he’d never told me about Huck.

“We could track him down, Rem. See what kind of life he led after—”

“No.” He shook his head and turned around. “It was a long time ago. Nothing I can do about it now besides let it go.”

“Yeah,” I whispered. “That’s true.”

He crossed the room, curving an arm around me. “Wipe that sadness away, Hannah. I don’t want you to feel sorry for something I got over years ago.”

“A boy and his horse should never be separated. It’s just a fact of life.” I slapped his chest. “But fine, I won’t be sad if you’re not. Well, not about that at least. I’m sad these stables are empty. They should be filled with life and the pastures outside should be grazed. That’s what’s a real tragedy.”

“You think so?” He skimmed his nose along mine. “You’d fill this land with life?”

“I would. If you were a horse, wouldn’t you want to live here too? It’s gorgeous and has so much room for roaming and grazing.”

Remi hummed noncommittally and flipped off the lights. We continued on our walk, quiet this time. He seemed to be deep in thought, and I decided to enjoy the golden glow of the prairie grass and push away the ache deep in my belly.

Out of nowhere, Remi said, “You could do that, you know.”

I turned my head to look at him, but his focus was on the sprawling landscape ahead of us. “What?”

He finally looked at me, and the care in his hazel eyes was devastatingly lovely. “Fill these stables up again. After all, all this is half yours to do what you want with it. You want horses; you should have them.”

“Maybe,” I hedged.

We walked on. A lighter topic and a few make-out sessions. It seemed we couldn’t go long periods without kissing.

In the back of my mind, though, I kept asking myself the same question. How could this man be so tender and careful with me and, at the same time, speak about this place and my future here like it had nothing to do with him?

The answer was right there, shouting at me and waving ten blazing red flags.

Because Remington Town knows he won’t stick around to be a part of my future. When it comes down to it, he probably won’t even be a part of my winter.

And still, we walked on, hand in hand.