“I’ve tried.” She had redone many things, added her own touch.
“Besides, it’s not like being somewhere else is going to stop the memories. They’re in you. Places just trigger them.”
She stared at him. “Yes. Exactly.”
It wasn’t that she was surprised; Jace had always had depth to him. One of those memories he’d just mentioned flashed into her mind, of her sixteen-year-old self saying to her mother how much more mature—that was a popular word to her then—he seemed than Cory.
“He is,” her mother had said, a touch of sadness in her voice. “His father is...a difficult man.”
She had wondered for an instant if the sadness was for Jace or that Cory wasn’t as mature. Decided it had to be for Jace, because she was sure Cory would eventually catch up. She’d been wrong about that, but at the time she’d been certain.
“But his mom’s so sweet,” she’d said.
“Yes. Which makes it even more difficult.”
She hadn’t understood then. But when her father had come home with the news that Jace and his mother had moved away because his father had left them, she thought she did.
“Can I ask you something?” she said when they were in the guest room, he’d dropped his worn pack on the bed and she’d shown him where clean towels were.
“You can always ask,” he said.
Doesn’t mean I’ll answer. She heard what he didn’t say but went ahead. “When your mom moved away, you were... eighteen.” He nodded, giving her a curious look. “I was just wondering...you had that job at the lumberyard, and your friends here...” She trailed off awkwardly.
“You mean why did I go with her?”
“Yes.”
He leaned against the small dresser, crossing his ankles and his arms. Defensively? she wondered. “Thinking I was a mama’s boy who couldn’t be away from her?”
Yes, definitely defensively. “I never thought that. Ever.”
He let out an audible breath. “She needed help. I couldn’t just walk away.”
“Especially after your father did.”
His gaze narrowed. “You know that, then.”
She smiled apologetically. “I’m afraid the whole neighborhood did.”
He grimaced. “I figured.”
“We all knew your dad was...”
“An assh—”
He cut himself off. She found herself wondering if he’d done it to avoid being foul in front of her, or if he really didn’t like calling his father crude names, even if they fit. Either way, it only made her more certain Jace Rob—Cahill was exactly the guy she remembered. The good guy she remembered.
Unfortunately, she thought as she left him to get settled, that also meant he was still the guy she’d had her first-ever serious crush on. The guy whose thick-lashed eyes had stirred her to sighs, and whose lean, broad-shouldered body had caused feelings in her she hadn’t even recognized. The guy all others since had had to measure up to, and usually failed.
And from what she’d seen—and felt—so far, that hadn’t changed a bit.
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