Chapter 24
INDYA
Age Twenty-Four
“This is it?”
If Blaine asked me that question one more time, I was going to yank my hair out.
“Yes.” I ripped the zipper closed on my now-empty suitcase. My clothes were stowed in the dresser’s drawers. My shoes were in the closet. And my patience was hanging on by a thread. “This is it.”
He pursed his lips into a flat line as he hummed.
“Stop.” I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Just. Stop.”
“Stop what, Indya? I asked a simple question.”
Snap. That frayed thread disintegrated. “Look, I know you don’t want to be here.” Blaine preferred luxury resorts on tropical beaches. A rugged Montana adventure was not his style. “I know this isn’t your type of vacation. But we’re here because it makes Dad happy. So can you lose the snobby attitude and chill the fuck out?”
His expression hardened as his lip curled. “I’ll lose my attitude when my wife loses hers.”
“Why do you always do that? Say it that way?”
“What?” he snapped.
“My wife.” I let the air quotes fly. Had I known he would use those words with such disdain and contempt, I might not have taken the title.
Blaine planted his hands on his hips. “Are you on your period?”
My jaw dropped, and I saw red. “Are you on yours?”
Without another word, I stormed to the bedroom door, then ripped open the door and slammed it on my way out.
The Beartooth Chalet’s living room and kitchen were empty. Thank God, Mom and Dad had gone for a walk. They didn’t need to hear us arguing.
Mom said the first year of marriage was an adjustment.
It was only the first month. Weren’t we supposed to be in the blissful newlywed stage? How many more adjustments did Blaine and I need to make so we wouldn’t fight daily?
It hadn’t been like this before the wedding. We’d been . . . happy.
Busy, but happy.
Blaine had taken over the bulk of running Keller Enterprises after Dad had retired the past winter. And while I’d stayed working, too, I’d also been swamped planning the wedding.
We’d had a few squabbles in the past year, but none of those arguments had amounted to much. Until my first day as Mrs. Hamilton.
We’d fought ever since, over and over and over.
On our honeymoon, we’d gotten into a huge argument over a bellhop. The poor kid had lost one of Blaine’s suitcases. Instead of being patient and letting the hotel locate it for us, Blaine had demanded to speak to the manager and ordered the kid be fired.
I’d lost my damn mind and refused to speak to him for five days. It was only after he’d apologized and assured me the kid still had a job that I’d finally ended my silence.
The day after we’d made up from that argument, we’d flown home.
And then started fighting over everything else.
I wanted to go out for drinks with a friend from work. Blaine was pissed because said friend was a single guy from Human Resources.
I cooked us a romantic dinner one evening. He never bothered to call and say he’d be three hours late coming home.
I wanted to go on a quiet summer trip with my parents because Dad hadn’t been feeling well lately. Blaine loathed the idea of Montana.
Fight. Fight. Fight. I was so damn tired of fighting. Most days I
wanted to scream.
Most days, I cried instead.
The lump in the back of my throat felt permanent, but I swallowed past it as I flew out of the cabin, needing some air.
Blaine had been griping about this trip for weeks. I never should have brought him along.
It was hard enough being here. It was hard enough knowing eventually I’d have to face West. It was hard enough thinking this could be Dad’s last trip to Montana.
Was it too much to ask that my husband give it a chance?
Whatever. He could fight with me behind closed doors. As long as that attitude didn’t show to Dad, I’d deal with Blaine myself.
Not that he’d ever dream of offending my father.
My parents adored Blaine.
Dad had hired Blaine a year ago, after our last trip to Montana, and it was because of Blaine that Dad felt like he could retire.
Blaine was young, only five years older than me, but he’d started at Keller Enterprises with experience and ambition.
He had charm and a sharp wit. He was polished. Poised. He came from money—not as much as me, but money. His taste was expensive, and it showed in his designer clothes and watches.
There’d been a hole in my heart after our last trip to Montana.
Blaine had filled it.
When he’d asked me out to dinner a few weeks after he’d started working at Keller, it had just made sense. We made sense.
Blaine’s life mirrored my own. There’d never been an obstacle between us. Everything had just moved naturally. We’d dated for six months. We’d moved in together the week after he’d proposed. We’d gotten married in a lovely spring ceremony at my family’s country club.
When had we stopped making sense? Maybe we’d just spent too much time together lately. Maybe when we got home and he got back to work, we’d both relax.
Blaine worked all the time—the only thing we didn’t seem to fight about. Mostly because his hard work meant a successful Keller Enterprises. A successful Keller Enterprises meant Dad didn’t have to
worry.
About my future. About Mom’s.
Yesterday, he’d told me he could die in peace knowing that Blaine was around to provide for his girls.
Goddamn it. Tears flooded fast. Too fast to blink them away. So I wiped at them instead, furiously catching them at the corners of my eyes before they could leave tracks down my cheeks.
Was it so much to ask that we stop talking about Dad’s death? He was fine. He was alive. The doctors hadn’t given him any indication that he was nearing the end of his life. So couldn’t we just fucking drop it?
I was walking so quickly it was nearly a jog, but my flimsy sandals kept me from running. So I walked and walked. Until the tears were gone. Until the sting in my nose had faded. Until I wandered off the shoulder of the gravel road, lured by a patch of small white and purple wildflowers.
I stopped to pluck one of the blooms and touched a petal with my fingertip.
They were the same flowers I’d picked here as a girl. God, that
seemed like a lifetime ago.
What was I doing here?
As much as I wanted to blame today’s fight on Blaine, maybe it was me. Maybe he’d been right and we should have stayed home.
Maybe he could sense my anxiety about coming to Montana.
About seeing West.
Not that Blaine had a clue about West. No one did.
I hadn’t seen him when we’d checked in. I hadn’t seen Courtney either. Did they still live on the ranch? Were they married now? Was she
pregnant already?
Did they fight all the time too?
I picked another flower, then another. I’d made myself a small bouquet when the rumble of an engine sounded, causing me to stand tall and turn.
An old green truck, spotted with rust—a truck I hadn’t seen in ages —rolled down the gravel road.
My heart leaped and squeezed and pinched all at the same time. It was the strangest mix of hope and joy and despair and sadness I’d ever
felt in my life.
I’d missed that truck.
I’d missed the man behind the wheel.
West eased his pickup to the side of the road, coming to a stop.
The sense of déjà vu was so strong it locked me frozen in place as he climbed out and rounded the hood.
A cowboy hat shaded his face. The sleeves of his button-down were rolled up his forearms. His faded jeans draped to boots as dusty as his
truck. The sun bounced off his belt buckle.
He was perfect.
And he was no longer mine.
“Hey, Indya.”
I forced air into my lungs. “Hi, West.”
The corners of his mouth turned up as he joined me in the grass.
“Heard you were here for the week.”
“Yeah.”
Had his wife told him that? My gaze shifted to his left hand. There was no ring on his finger, but that didn’t mean anything. West wasn’t
exactly the jewelry type.
“How’s your dad doing?”
I nodded, breathing through the surge of emotion.
No crying.
Don’t cry.
Tears flooded again. Damn it. I was going to cry. All because West asked about Dad.
He wouldn’t ask if I was okay. Not yet. Not until he asked about Dad. Because he knew that if Dad was okay, then I’d be okay too.
I bent to snag a flower, using the movement to blink the tears from my eyes and hide my gaze. “He’s all right. Very excited to be here, as
usual.”
“Good. And you?”
I shrugged and picked another flower, this one purple.
“Heard you got married.”
“Yeah. About a month ago.” The ring on my finger had never felt heavier. The same was true of the weight on my heart.
West let me keep picking until my bouquet was double in size.
“Why are you crying, Indy?”
Damn him. Damn him for knowing me too well.
I stood tall, lifting my chin. It quivered. “I’m not crying.”
“Indy.” His beautiful hazel eyes softened. His arms lifted, like he was about to wrap them around me.
But I doubted his wife would appreciate that.
Nor would my husband.
I took a step away.
His arms dropped to his sides.
“How’s Courtney?”
A frown hardened his face. “That, uh, didn’t work out.”
For the second year in a row, the ground disappeared beneath my
feet.
He wasn’t married.
He’d never gotten married.
Oh, God. It hurt. Fuck, it hurt. I wanted to scream again.
This trip was such a mistake.
“I—” There was nothing to say, so I shut my mouth. Then I stared at West as he stared back. A thousand words hung in the air between us, words we’d never say. Words we should have said years ago.
“Indya.”
My name cut through the air, breaking my eyes away from West.
Blaine walked our way. His stride was easy. He didn’t look like he was hurrying, but those long strides betrayed him.
His jeans were dark and stiff. His boots were shining and new. His shirt was starched. He looked entirely out of place on a gravel road.
West bent, the movement stealing my focus. He plucked a white flower, then handed it over as he stood. “Good to see you, Indy.”
“You too, West.” I took the flower and added it to my bouquet.
Later that night, I slipped away from the Beartooth and left that bouquet in West’s childhood fort.
