Page 93 of Forbidden to Fall

I listened to the nostalgia with my own little smirk. I could have rattled off a whole list of other things Ryan and James had done together back in the day.

But I didn’t want to do that. I wanted to ask him the question that had been inside me for years. “Why’d you do it?”

James’s body went still.

The question was out. The question I’d been asking silently for eight years.

I felt a tinge of speaker’s remorse. Maybe our friendship was too new to handle this level of directness.

“Sorry,” I said. “I just…want to understand.”

James’s eyes fixed on me, keen. He opened his mouth, then shut it, the muscles in his jaw flexing as he stared back down at his glass. “I made choices I shouldn’t have.”

“What were you about to say?” Apparently, I’d given up any and all thought of respecting his privacy. I was desperate to see into his thoughts.

He took a sip from his tea, then turned the glass distractedly. “Nothing.”

I wanted to push—push until he blurted it out—but Liv and Tate emerged from the trees.

“Looks like they escaped the tigers,” I said, sliding to the ground and waving at them as I tried to ignore my disappointment.

James didn’t say anything, gathering the tea glasses and pitcher silently, and I felt a sting of guilt. Not just for prying but for putting him in a more somber mood.

Why’d you do it?

I cringed at my question.

James took the tea to the house while I made sure everything was ready for the ride back to Horseshoe Holler.

I asked Liv and Tate how their stroll had been, noting Liv’s cheeks, which were pinker than they’d been earlier. I hoped they were the result of a really great kiss.

Jealousy pricked me.

I guess I had Kiss the Pig to look forward to.

The ride back to the stables was quieter than the one to the maple farm, with a few attempts at conversation between us and them. When we reached our destination, Liv and Tate thanked us, then headed out.

Archer’s group wasn’t back from their trail ride, making the stables quieter than usual.

James helped me unhitch the horses, water them, and brush them down in their stalls, sparing me half the work I’d have otherwise had.

As I brushed down Chewie, I stole a peek into the next stall.

James might have made a selfish choice eight years ago, but now, he was anything but selfish.

“Thank you for doing all of this,” I said once we’d finished up. I had more I wanted to say, but I didn’t know how to say it.

“Happy to.” There was a pause as he looked at me.

I held my breath, waiting—hoping he’d come out with whatever he’d almost said on the back of the wagon. Archer had implied there was more to the story. Now I was sure of it.

But what was it?

“I’ll see you later.” He headed for the stable doors.

“Hey.”

James stopped.