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But…

“I still don’t want his money,” I said, and the words came out so wistfully that both Lennon and Emma leaned in to give me sideways hugs.

“He’s a jerk,” Lennon said, rubbing my back. “We hate him.”

I laughed. Seb wasn’t hateable. “No, you don’t, and that’s fine. I don’t hate him. It’s been three years! I’m totally over it.”

Tamilee gave me a speaking glance. “Oh, baby girl. You are not over it.”

There was no point in pressing a lie. Seb had shattered me. I had gathered myself up again, sorted through the wreckage, and put myself back together again in a makeshift fashion. I was whole, but not unscathed. The fragments were jagged, and the cracks were filled with longing.

“I wonder why she lied,” Emma said.

We looked at her.

“Seb’s mom,” she clarified. “She lied to you, didn’t she? Because according to you, the only thing standing in the way of legal marriage was paperwork that Seb said he would handle, and according to Seb, you are, in fact, legally married. There’s no way Seb is lying to you now, which means his mom lied to you then. Right?” She looked from Tamilee to Holly to Lennon to me. “Do you think Seb knows his mom is a dirty rotten liar and tried to bribe you?”

I blinked.

No, I did not think Seb knew that.

“Shit,” I sighed.

The cabin was empty when Lennon dropped me off in the ATV. She smirked at the dark windows. “Poor boy is scared to come home.”

“You don’t think he’ll stay out all night, do you?” My stomach twisted at the thought. Seb probably had a phone full of women who would be delighted to give him a place to crash.

Lennon shook her head. “He wouldn’t let you stay here alone. Seb is way more scared of something happening to you than of you yelling at him. He’ll be back before it gets dark, I’m sure of it.” She squeezed my hand. “Trust me. I know a cowboy just like him.”

I waved goodbye and let myself in. The cabin was too quiet without Seb. It made my thoughts especially loud.

Waiting wasn’t usually a problem for me. Photographing wild animals requires patience. I could spend hours or even days waiting for a specific bird to appear, but waiting for Seb to come home had me climbing the walls. I paced around the living room, rehearsing what I was going to say. Hey, so about your mom. She’s nice and all, but she’s a damn liar. Oh, hell. Seb wasn’t a mama’s boy, but he loved his parents, and this was going to hurt.

If he believed me at all.

That brought me up short. Would Seb believe me? Our relationship had been a whirlwind. After two weeks of bouncing around Europe together, we’d gotten married on a whim rather than say goodbye, and I’d followed him to his life in D.C., since the only thing my job required was a laptop, a camera, and access to an international airport. Ten months later, he’d walked out the door without an explanation. From start to finish, we hadn’t known each other for even a whole year. He’d known his mother his whole life.

If it came down to her word against mine, would he really choose me?

I thought I knew him, but clearly I was wrong about that. Maybe he thought he didn’t truly know me, either.

I put in my earbuds, hit play, and let the music drown out the questions I couldn’t answer. Cleaning was my favorite way to decompress, so I went at it, starting with the laundry. I found my sleeping T-shirt wedged behind the hamper in the back of Seb’s closet and tossed it in with the rest of the dirty clothes. I vacuumed the braided rug in the bedroom and the one in the living room, swept the pine floors, and washed the dishes we’d left in the sink.

Seb still wasn’t home. I hated the thoughts in my head, so I ignored them, wrapped my hair up in a bun, and hopped in the shower. After twenty minutes of letting the hot water scald my body clean, I pulled on my T-shirt, still warm from the dryer, and padded barefoot down the hallway⁠—

And nearly jumped right out of my clean skin when I saw Seb standing there, one arm folded across his torso, his other hand hooked around the back of his neck, eyes focused on the floor like he was having Serious Thoughts.

At my startled yelp, he looked up, nearly as surprised to see me as I was at him. His eyes narrowed.

“You scared the shit out of me,” I said, pulling awkwardly at the hem of my T-shirt, where it hit mid-thigh. I sometimes wore shorts shorter than this, but I still felt exposed.

His mouth tightened, and he strode toward me, stopping when we were toe to toe. I had to tilt my head back to meet his eyes and—oh. Seb was not happy.

I wet my lips nervously. “We need to talk.”

“Damn right we do.”

I felt his fingertips graze my thigh. Looking down, I saw he had the hem of my shirt fisted in both hands. My pulse skittered, and I swallowed hard. Please, begged the jagged pieces inside me. Please.