Page 9

“Hettie?”
And with that one word, I know I’m not about to get the same reaction from Bo that I did from Kody.
Bo sounds choked, like there’s something caught in his throat, and he coughs to clear it. “Are you…here?”
I sink my cold hands into the ruff of fur around Kody’s neck because I’m suddenly so afraid to face Bo.
Taking a deep, albeit shaky breath, I finally stand up, eyes beginning to sting. I keep a hand on Kody for courage. “Hi,” I whisper.
“Hi?” Bo carefully props his ax against a log and takes a step toward me. And stops. “You walk out of the woods like you’re some kind of dream, and all you can say ishi?”
He is six feet away from me. After years of being a country apart, I don’t know how to deal with his closeness. I can only stare and do my best not to rush into his arms.
That would be very bad. “What do you want me to say—?” I manage.
“You could start with what the hell you’re doing here?”
It’s like a slap. The heat of his words sends a cold shiver through me and I have to swallow around the lump in my throat.
He’s angry.
I should be the angry one. I’m the one who has been ignored for years.
“Bo—”
“Where did you come from? Why didn’t you call? Why didn’t you tell me you were coming? Why are you here, Hettie?”
Bo has always been the quiet brother, the one who watches every word he says.
No one would know it from the questions he’s peppering me with, and with each one he comes a step forward.
I take a step back into the trees. “I want a divorce.”
Bo stares, his blue eyes studying me like I’m one of his precious books. Then his gaze closed like he doesn’t know me. Then— “No.”
4
Bo
Hettie is here. Here.She’s here.Here.
I have to keep repeating the words in my head like I need to tell myself to keep breathing.
She shows up like a fictional character come to life. Because it’s been so long since I’ve seen her that some days, I have to convince myself I didn’t dream it all.
But why would I dream about the worst things that have ever happened to me? That would be a nightmare.
She looks different—longer hair, darker red and swirling around her head because she refuses to wear a hat. A coat I don’t recognize. It might be warm enough for the West Coast, but she’ll freeze here.
She’s lost some of the softness in her face, turning her from a teenager to a woman.
But her eyes are the same, the mix of green and brown, and the quirk of her lips that makes her look like she’s always on the brink of a smile.
She’s here, and she wants a divorce.
“No,” I repeat and turn back to the house.
“Bo,” she calls after me, still caught in the shadow of the tree. Kody runs back and forth between us, torn between his master and the woman who loved him since he was a puppy.