Change of Hart (Wells Ranch, #3)(60)

“Ready!” Mom calls out from the front door, zipping up her light hoodie. “Took me ages to find these darn shoes.”

They were in the front closet, like always, but I know better than to say that.

“Probably because it’s been forever since we got out for a walk.” I smile at her, pulling my sunglasses from the top of my head and putting them on. “Whit’s gonna meet us at the end of the street, too.”

“Oh, good. I miss her.”

My heart sinks, and I let out a meditative exhale. “Come on, let’s go then. She’s probably waiting.”

Rather than chatting, Mom takes to quiet humming of old Broadway tunes while we walk, which isn’t helpful for the chaos happening in my mind. Doesn’t matter that the sun is shining, birds are chirping, and my mom’s happier than I’ve seen in weeks; I can’t shake the melancholia from my bones.

And when we stop outside of a blue cottage with a yellow door so Mom can tie her shoes, I decide to tell Denver that things need to end.


Denver: That wasn’t a question that typically requires somebody to think about it for ten minutes.

Denver: Guess I’ll bring both kinds to your office this afternoon.

Tell him it ends here. Clean break. No pain. I’ve never been one for building walls, for setting boundaries, for knowing how to keep my heart safe. But I need to try.


Blair: I’m not going to the office today

My fingers and brain don’t work in coordination, apparently. I stare at the bubble indicating that he’s typing, watching it appear and disappear on repeat. Unable to catch a full breath, my lungs ache with anticipation.


Denver: I’ll deliver it to your front door, then.

Blair: Denver, that’s not a good idea.

Denver: Another bad day?

I look over at Mom, who finally got her shoelaces tied on the seventh try. It’s not a bad day—not at all—and that’s exactly why I can’t jeopardize my own mental health. I need to remain strong and put together, so I can relish her good days and be her support for the bad.


Blair: No, I just need some time alone with my mom.

Whit’s waiting for us at the stop sign, and Mom gives her a hug that makes up for the disaster from last night. And we turn toward the Wells Ranch Road, aiming for a walking trail that skirts town, running beside the Timothy River and through thick forest.

“Night and day difference from yesterday,” Whit says quietly, hooking a thumb toward where Mom’s a full twenty feet ahead like she’s practicing for an Olympic speed-walking event.

“Thankfully. Poor Dad would probably quit the family if both of us were in a weird mood today.”

She turns her head slightly, skirting around a tree branch fallen halfway across the trail. “Why are you in a weird mood? Last night you seemed cute and love drunk after kissing Denny.”

“I snuck him into my room last night.”

Besides Cassidy, Whit’s the only person who knows how often Denver used to sneak into my room. Mostly because, at only two years younger than me, she was frequently still awake when he snuck in. I did a lot of her homework to stop her from telling our parents.

She slaps me on the arm. “You’re close to thirty-two and still sneaking boys into your room?”

“Apparently.” I kick a pebble down the trail like I’m dribbling a soccer ball. “I think it was a big mistake though…. I was feeling like total shit after everything with Mom. And asking him to come over seemed like a good idea, so I wouldn’t be alone with my thoughts.”

“Then you hooked up.”

I scoff. “How dare you assume? Okay, yeah, we did. And now I’m messed up over it.”

If we were still teenagers, I’d smack the smirk right off my sister’s face.

“Sis, take it from somebody who’s had some on-again-off-again with my ex. Follow your gut. If you’re not feeling good about this, walk away before you’re in too deep.”

“You’re right.” I gnaw at a piece of chapped skin on my lower lip. “I just…what if there’s no such thing as getting over your first love?”

“Then I’m doomed to a life where Alex gets to hold power over me forever. I refute that idea.” She grabs my hand, squeezing. “Do you think you’re simply feeling nostalgic for the way things used to be, or do you actually love him still?”

I think about the way he held me last night, wiping my tears and kissing away every thought in my head. I needed him, and he came.

“What if—hear me out—part of me wants to take a risk and find out the hard way?”

“Then you should follow your gut, just like I said.”

“But I’m terrified, Whit. He might hurt me all over again.”

She nods. “He might. And if he does, it’s gonna suck.”

For a moment I stay quiet, listening to the crunch of compact dirt under my sneakers, waiting for her to add a but.

She doesn’t.

So I do. “But…he also might not.”

“Absolutely. He might not.” Her lips roll into a flat smile. “Guess you need to decide which ‘might’ you want to bet on.”

We turn a corner on the trail, coming to a fork I don’t remember existing. Immediately Whit looks at me with wide eyes, then calls out for Mom.