Sophie’s heels sank into the soft gravel as soon as she stepped out of the car, but she picked her way to the shed door.
Blinking against the bright lights inside, she peered around the large space. A tractor and an assortment of what Sophie assumed was farming equipment filled one half of the shed. But the other half was set up as a woodworking shop. Several large tools dominated the space: what she thought was a table saw and a workbench covered with buckets of paint and stain. But her eyes slipped past the rest of the tools to the finished products scattered around the space. There was a rocking chair with gracefully curved arms, an elegant console table, and—
Sophie’s breath caught, and she moved into the shed as if pulled.
When she reached it, she stopped. The seat was covered with boxes, and a dirty towel hung over the back, but she recognized it.
The bench was a perfect replica of the one in the park where Spencer had proposed to her.
She ran her fingers across the wood and let the memories submerge her. They’d talked on that park bench. Laughed on that bench. Kissed on that bench.
“Hey, there.”
Sophie jumped and yanked her hand off the bench. Her face flamed and her heart set up a staccato rhythm as she whirled to catch Spencer watching her. How long had he been standing there?
“Sorry, I—” She felt as if she’d been caught prying into his private life. “This is beautiful.” She touched the bench one last time, then shuffled away from it.
“Thanks.” Spencer tilted his head, staring at her as if he’d never seen her before.
He looked at home here in his worn jeans and faded flannel. Even the scruff on his chin seemed to belong in these rugged surroundings.
She glanced down at her tailored navy pants suit. She, on the other hand, did not belong.
“What are you doing here, Soph?” Spencer’s voice was gentle but guarded.
Sophie stared at him. She had completely forgotten why she’d thought it would be a good idea to come.
“I just—” She licked her dry lips. “I just wanted to thank you.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Thank me?”
“For talking me into not running away from seeing my grandma yesterday. You were right.”
“You’re welcome.” Spencer shuffled his feet. An awkward silence fell.
Finally, Spencer sighed. “Was there anything else you needed?” She hated the formality in his tone, as if he didn’t know her better than anyone else in the world.
What had she been thinking, coming here? Of course he didn’t want to see her. “Nothing else.” She tried to apply the same detachment to her voice and found with relief that it was easier than she’d expected. She picked her way across the shed toward the door.
She paused when she was even with him. “Bye, Spencer.” The words fell from her lips and hovered in the air between them.
Jaw tight, he nodded. She waited another beat, then continued toward her car, pushing down the sting at the back of her throat. She was being ridiculous and overly emotional after her day with Nana. What had she expected? That he’d pull her into his arms and say he’d missed her and couldn’t live without her? It’s not like she wanted that.
“Soph?”
She froze, gripping the car door, an unexpected hope tugging at a place deep in her heart.
“Yeah?” She couldn’t look at him. Couldn’t bear to have that hope punctured. Not today.
“Do you want some dinner?”
Chapter 7
He was the biggest fool on the planet. Spencer knew that with certainty the moment the words were out of his mouth.
But a warmth he hadn’t felt in years spread through him as he watched Sophie turn toward him, the moonlight spinning her hair into a river of light. He was seized with the urge to gather her in his arms and run his fingers through it.
Yep, definitely an idiot.
He was only setting himself up for heartbreak. And the worst part was, he didn’t care.
“Dinner sounds nice.” Sophie smiled. He’d missed that smile. The way the left side of her mouth lifted a fraction higher than the right.
“I was going to order in pizza tonight, but—” He eyed her sharp suit. She was used to better than Jerry’s Pizza. “We can do something else, if you want.”
“Pizza sounds great.” She started toward him, but her heel snagged on a rock, and she stumbled. He lunged forward just in time to grab her before she face-planted.
As soon as she was steady on her feet, he snatched his hands back and shoved them into his pockets.
“Thanks.” Sophie sounded breathless.
He took stock of her three-inch heels. “You’re never going to make it across the yard in those. It’s a swamp from all the rain.”
Sophie glanced from the yard to her heels, then kicked off her shoes, standing on the gravel in her bare feet. “There.”
Spencer’s mouth fell open as she stooped to retrieve her shoes. He’d only ever seen hints of this spontaneous version of Sophie.
But she winced as she took one step and then another.
Before he could think what he was doing, Spencer positioned himself with his back to her. “Hop on.”
She gave a disbelieving laugh. “I’m not going to ride on your back.”
“Seriously, Soph, just get on.” It’s not like it’d be the first time he’d given her a piggyback ride.
“Seriously, Spencer, no.”
“Suit yourself.” Good to know her stubborn streak hadn’t changed. He walked purposefully toward the house. Behind him, he heard Sophie’s sharp inhales with every step. But he kept going. Two could play the stubborn game.
By the time he’d crossed the yard and reached the front door, she was only halfway across the driveway. She eyed her shoes.
“Don’t put those on,” Spencer called. “You’ll break an ankle.”
Sophie’s exasperated huff made him chuckle. “You sure you don’t want a piggyback ride? Last offer.”
The moonlight played over her features, and Spencer could pick out the moment her hesitation gave way to resignation. He jogged back across the yard, ignoring the squish of water in his shoes from the saturated grass.
When he reached her, he gave a slight bow. “M’lady. Your chariot.”
She rolled her eyes, but a smile tugged her lips up.
He let his own lips tip into a grin, then turned and stood braced for her to climb onto his back.
He tensed as her hands fell on his shoulders. Oh yeah, this had been a big mistake. But he couldn’t exactly dump her back onto the ground now.
Gritting his teeth and willing himself not to notice the feel of her against him, he charged across the yard. She gasped and tightened her grip around his neck.
The moment they made it to the porch, he deposited her on the bottom step. Working hard to keep from brushing against her, he reached around her to open the door and gestured for her to enter in front of him. Once she was inside, he took a moment to collect his thoughts before he lost his mind altogether.
“I’ll call for pizza.” He pulled out his phone and dialed as she wandered around his living room, pausing now and then to look at a photo. He’d always considered his home comfortable, but now he saw it through her eyes: the well-worn couch and faded curtains. The anything-but-elegant wooden coffee table he’d made as a kid—one of his first woodworking projects. The lamp he’d found on the side of the road and rewired.
Was she thinking about how she’d escaped a life so beneath her standards when she walked away from him?
He finished placing the order and hung up the phone, then immediately wished he hadn’t. Now what were they going to do? What did you talk about with the woman who’d shredded your heart five years ago?
Probably not that.
“You have a nice place.” Sophie settled into his favorite easy chair. “It’s so cozy.”
Spencer laughed a little. Sophie had always been diplomatic. “Thanks.”
He sat at the
end of the couch farthest from her chair. That way he couldn’t do anything stupid. Like act on his impulse to grab her hand.
“So how long are you in town?” There. That should put a damper on his thoughts. Bring him back to reality.
Sophie’s sigh was weighted. “I don’t know. My boss wants me back as soon as possible. But—” She chewed her lip as she’d always done when she was uncertain. “I feel like it’s important to stay with Nana until the end. I know it won’t make a difference, but—”
Spencer shifted a fraction toward her. “It will make a difference.”
Her eyes held his. “You think so?”
He nodded. “Having people you love around you for those life-changing moments? That’s important.”
Sophie’s lips parted.
There were so many things he could say right now. So many things he shouldn’t say.
Spencer jumped to his feet. “Drinks! You want something to drink?”
Sophie startled at his abrupt movement, but he needed to put at least one wall between them for a minute.
He was already on his way to the kitchen. “I have water, soda, milk. I don’t think I have any wine, but—”
“Water is good.”
“Water it is then.” In the kitchen, Spencer braced his arms against the counter and took a few slow breaths. He had to get himself together. He was catching up with an old friend. That was all.
His feelings in check, he pushed off the counter and grabbed two glasses out of the cupboard.
“So,” he called toward the living room as he grabbed the water jug out of the fridge, “where are you these days?” How strange that he didn’t know where she lived, let alone what her life was like. Or if she was with someone.
The sucker punch of the thought drew him up short, and he jerked his arm. Water cascaded onto the counter.
“Shoot!” He yanked the jug upright.
“Everything okay in there?” Sophie’s voice drifted into the room.
“Fine. Just a little spill.” He gritted his teeth as he yanked a towel out of the drawer and sopped up the mess.
“Here, let me help.” Sophie glided into the room, still barefoot, and moved the water glasses to a dry spot on the counter. She reached past him to grab the jug. Her arm grazed the hairs on his, and he shifted away.
“I still live in Chicago.” She took the towel from him and wiped the outside of the glasses, then passed him one.
He took a long drink, watching her over the top of his glass. Did she always have to be so self-assured and in control? Wasn’t her heart bouncing all over the place the way his was? Then again, there was no reason for it to be. She clearly adored her new life.
“And what do you do there?” Whatever it was, he had no doubt she’d made a success of it. She’d never known how to fail.
“I work for a real estate development firm. On my way to VP, actually.”
Spencer’s grip tightened on his glass. “That’s great, Soph.” He was happy she was successful, but there was no love lost between him and real estate developers. The parasites came sniffing after his parents’ farm every few years, looking for an opportunity to snatch it up.
Before he could think of something else to say, the doorbell rang. He escaped to grab the pizza.
When he returned, Sophie had the table set with plates she must have rummaged through the kitchen to find. It warmed him from the inside to think of her making herself at home here.
You are being a supreme idiot.
She had just told him she lived in Chicago. That she was happy there. Making herself at home here was the farthest thing from her mind.
He held the pizza box out to her as he slid into the chair across from her. He grabbed his own slice and set it on his plate before folding his hands and bowing his head. Across from him, he heard Sophie shuffle a napkin and sigh. He peeked up without raising his head, just in time to see her fold her hands, too. His mind went blank. He and Sophie had prayed over their meals together so many times, but it suddenly felt too intimate.
“Thank you for this food, Lord,” he finally managed. “And thank you for old—” His mind scrambled for a safe word. “For old friends.”
“Amen,” Sophie murmured.
“Amen.” He grabbed his water glass and guzzled down half its contents in one gulp.
When he lowered the glass, he dove into his pizza. It’d been a long day, and he was famished. And if his mouth was full, he would have an excuse not to talk. Not to say something stupid.
He was grabbing another piece when Sophie finally broke the silence. “Tell me about the farm.”
Spencer stopped with the pizza slice halfway to his mouth. In the three years they’d been together, Sophie had never once asked about the farm.
“What do you want to know?”
She dabbed at her lips with a napkin, looking thoughtful. “How long has it been in your family?”
He did some quick math. “About a hundred and twenty years? My great-great grandfather planted a small cherry orchard, and each generation has expanded it over the years. We have about fifty acres now, with a few thousand trees.”
“That’s— Wow.” Sophie sat back in her chair, laying her napkin on her plate. “That’s a lot.”
His face warmed. If he didn’t know better, he’d think she was impressed.
He pushed back his chair. “The cherries should be in bloom in a day or two. You should come see them. They’re pretty spectacular.”
Great. Now he was inviting rejection.
But that smile lit her face again. “I’d like that.”
He carried their plates to the dishwasher, avoiding her eyes. Did she even know what she was doing to him?
“What about the woodworking?” She stood and brought their empty glasses to him.
He lifted a shoulder. “Just a side gig I do in the winter when things are slower on the farm. Brings in a little extra income.” Income they desperately needed after last year’s failed crop. Which was why he had so many half-completed projects in the shop. He’d taken on way more than he could handle this winter to try to make ends meet.
“You’re very talented, Spencer.” Sophie kept her gaze directed at the dishwasher, but her cheeks pinked.
Her comment pleased him more than it should. He slammed the dishwasher closed harder than he meant to. “Thanks.”
He turned to make his escape to a less confined room, but she was right there.
She took a step back to avoid getting run over.
“I should get going.” But she didn’t move. Something hovered in her words, and for a moment Spencer let himself think she wanted him to ask her to stay.
He dried his hands on his pants. “Yeah. I’ll walk you out.”
Sophie could feel Spencer’s presence behind her as he shepherded her to the door. Dinner had been nice. Better than nice, actually. It’d been the best night she’d had in a long time.
Which was why she had to get out of here.
Sooner rather than later.
She scooped up her shoes from the rug in front of the door, then let Spencer reach past her to open it. Still a gentleman.
“You should visit Violet while you’re back.” Spencer followed her onto the porch.
She froze. “I don’t think she’d want to see me.” If Sophie had one regret about how she’d handled things after she and Spencer broke up, it was cutting her best friend out of her life. But at the time, it had seemed easiest to cut every last tie to Hope Springs. She hadn’t come back for Violet and Cade’s wedding. Or for Cade’s funeral two years ago. The memory of the text from her mom saying Cade had died slammed into her. She and Vi and Cade had been a trio since grade school. Cade was like a brother to her. And the thought that he was gone—it had been too much to deal with. She couldn’t face saying goodbye to him. Couldn’t face seeing Vi’s grief.
So she’d sent a card and told herself it would be enough. And then she’d buried herself even deeper in her work.
“She�
��d want to see you.” Spencer’s eyes were too gentle, too understanding.
“How is she?” Sophie managed to keep her voice steady, not to betray the roil of emotions churning in her stomach at the thought of what her friend had gone through without her. Of course, that didn’t mean Spencer couldn’t see them.
He reached for her arm but dropped his hand before it made contact. “She’s doing okay, I guess. She and Cade had an antique store that she’s kept going. But she’s not the same person she used to be.” He gripped the porch railing but turned his head toward her. “Losing someone does that to a person.”
The moment Sophie’s eyes landed on his, lined in silver in the moonlight, they skipped away. What she saw in his—that wasn’t something she was prepared to deal with.
“Thanks for tonight.” She rushed down the steps, ignoring the cold sting of the concrete on her bare feet, the cold squish of the mud between her toes as she stepped into the grass.
By the time she’d reached the driveway, her feet were so numb she barely felt the stab of the jagged rocks. Too bad the ache in her heart wasn’t as easily dimmed.
Chapter 8
Sophie stared down the doors of the church as a warm breeze lifted the hair off her neck. Her parents had already gone inside, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to step through the doors. The relentless pounding of the Lake Michigan surf below seemed to take the place of her heartbeat. She didn’t know what she was doing here. Not really.
She hadn’t been inside a church anywhere in years. But Nana had barely woken at all yesterday, and she felt out of options. Maybe if she put in some time at church, God would listen to her prayers.
Anyway, in one of Nana’s few lucid moments, she’d made Sophie promise to come.
Sophie steeled her shoulders. If she could face angry contractors and disgruntled buyers, she could handle an hour of church.
She pulled the door open and strode inside, letting her eyes travel the space. She hadn’t been in here since her senior year of high school. And yet so little had changed. To the left was the same oversize fireplace surrounded by several leather couches. Above, the same high, white wooden beams gave the room an open, airy feel. Scattered groups of people talked and laughed together. Everyone seemed so at home here. Had she really felt that way once, too?
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