The Cowboy's Homecoming. Carolyne Aarsen
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were gentle, but to Abby each touch felt like a brand.
Then he looked up at her, his gaze holding hers, his eyes narrowed. His eyes weren’t brown, she thought absently, suddenly feeling as if she couldn’t breathe. She saw a hint of bronze in the lines around his iris. His lashes were dark; his eyebrows darker still, meeting like a slash across a narrow nose.
If anything he was even more handsome than she remembered.
“I have a first-aid kit in my truck,” he said, turning his attention back to her ankle. “We need to take care of this. Don’t move.”
“Okay. Sure.” She felt angry at her sudden breathlessness, frustrated with her reaction to him. She blamed it on the old, high school emotions he too easily reawakened in her.
As he left she shook her head, the pain in her ankle battling for attention with the humiliation of falling not once, but twice in front of the one man she had hoped to face with some measure of dignity.
With a light sigh she leaned back, closing her eyes against another wave of pain, once again resenting Lee Bannister. If it weren’t for meeting him again, she wouldn’t have tried to run away.
It’s your own fault, her more rational voice reminded her. You didn’t need to act so silly. Like you always acted around him.
Her cheeks burned as hotly as her hurting ankle as older memories assailed her. Times in high school that she would sit on the sidelines of his football game, pretending she was snapping action pictures of the team for the school yearbook when, in fact, she was trying to get the perfect shot of him to keep for herself.
He destroyed your father’s life.
She shook her head as if to put her memories in their proper place and order. Her foolish feelings for her high school crush should have been swept away by his actions both in high school and shortly after graduation.
And yet they hadn’t been completely. It was that irony that created an ongoing struggle in her soul. He was the enemy and the first boy she had ever truly cared for all wrapped in one far too appealing package.
Help me, Lord, she prayed. Help me to put this all in perspective. Help me to keep my head clear until he’s gone. He’s taken up too much of my thoughts already.
She winced as she shifted her leg and another shard of pain shot through her ankle, but she reminded herself that she only had to get through the next half hour. Then she would be back with Louisa, and Lee could go back to being a footnote in her life.
He returned with a first-aid kit that he set down on the grass as he knelt down at her feet. Then he opened the tin and looked up at her again.
And her crazy heart did another silly flip.
“You should probably take your sandal off,” he advised, his deep voice quiet as he rummaged through the first-aid kit.
She nodded, bracing herself as she leaned forward to unbuckle her sandal.
“This will probably hurt,” he said, ripping open an antiseptic cloth and dabbing it on the cut once her sandal was removed.
She grimaced and he muttered an apology, but soon the cut was cleaned out. It wasn’t deep.
“I don’t think you’ll need stitches,” he murmured. “But you might want to have it looked at anyway.” He pulled a bandage out of the first-aid kit.
“I can put that on,” she said, reaching for the bandage, but she dropped it when he handed it to her and then it took her a few moments to get the packaging off.
Relax. Settle down, she told herself. But she was all thumbs and managed to paste the bandage to itself.
“Can I?” Lee asked, taking another bandage out of the tin.
Abby wanted to say no, but she was tired of looking clumsy in front of him, so she just nodded.
His hands were large, but his movements were confident and sure. He gently pressed the edges of the bandage down, then lifted his gaze to look at her.
“I hope this doesn’t handicap you, he said, sitting back on his heels. “You were in quite a rush to photograph whatever it was you wanted.”
She could have pounced on the out he had given her, but for some reason she couldn’t lie. “Actually I wasn’t running to get a picture. I was trying to hide from you. I thought you would probably stop and offer me a ride...and I didn’t want to take you up on it.”
A muscle ticked in his jaw. “Well, guess you’re stuck with getting a ride from me after all,” he said as he helped her to her feet.
Abby leaned over to pick up her backpack and her sandal, not bothering to reply. But he grabbed both before she could. Then he held out his arm to help her, but she hesitated to take it.
“You’ll fall again if you don’t let me help you,” he warned.
Abby saw the wisdom in this, then hooked her arm through his and let him lead her up the hill to his truck, the grass prickling her one bare foot.
She was far too aware of his arm holding her up, him walking alongside her. At one time this would have been a dream come true for her. At another it would have been her worst nightmare and a complete betrayal of everything that had happened to her family.
She closed her eyes, praying once again.
Just get through this, she reminded herself as he helped her into his truck. Get through this and you won’t have to see him again until it’s time for you to leave.
Lee put the truck in gear, glanced over his shoulder and pulled onto the road.
He looked over at his passenger, but she was bent over, slipping her sandal on and buckling it loosely. They drove in silence for a mile or so and then he stole another glimpse of her. Now she was crouching on her side of the cab, holding her knapsack like a shield.
She clearly would have preferred to be anywhere but in the cab of his truck.
“I’m not a reckless driver anymore,” he said, trying not to sound annoyed.
Abby shot him a quick look. “I hope not.” She was silent a moment, then lifted her chin, staring directly at him. “It’s just that I haven’t seen you since that day—”
“That day at the lawyer’s,” he finished for her. He gazed back at the road again, pressing his lips together as the past, once again, dropped into the present. The night of the accident was a blur to him. He blamed his drinking that night on the fact that he thought Abby, the best thing that had ever happened to him, didn’t want to date him. She was supposed to have come to the party with him, but she had phoned and told him not to bother calling her again. Whatever they had going, was over. She didn’t tell him why.
All he remembered of that night was dropping his keys on the way out of the party.
The very next memory was of coming to behind the wheel of his truck, which had plowed into a tree, and a police officer asking him if he knew his name.
He suppressed a shudder at the flashbacks that always followed. Being taken away in the cruiser. Finding out that his truck had struck Abby’s father before it hit the tree. His parents coming to see him in the jail. The horror and the regret and the twisting guilt. Dealings with the lawyers and the subsequent prison sentence. He relived that night of the party every day for the first year after it happened, wishing he could turn back time.
Part of him wanted to ask Abby why she broke up with him before the party, but given the events that had fragmented their lives, it seemed petty.
“Looks like you’re still taking pictures,” he remarked, trying to fill the oppressive silence between them. At one time he had cared about her and thought