move forward too and try to forget everything that had happened since she’d asked Blaine to be her fake boyfriend.
He’s not fake, she told herself, and intellectually, she knew he wasn’t. In some other ways, though, he was.
The heavens parted, and her thoughts aligned.
What she was really worried about was whether they’d been kidding themselves this whole time. Her reaction to Hayes; his to Alex. People not believing that she and Blaine were together.
Was she really past Hayes?
Was Blaine really over Alex and ready for a real, lasting relationship?
Did she and Blaine even have a real, lasting relationship?
She took a bite of her pie, but the normally delicious pecan filling just felt like soggy cardboard in her mouth. She hated these doubts, because she’d thought she’d finally moved past them. She’d thought she and Blaine just needed each other.
She’d been wrong. She needed some sort of outside validation that she and Blaine were a real couple. She needed to know he wanted her. She needed to feel like while their romantic relationship had definitely experienced some bumps up until this point, that he hadn’t started to see her in a romantic way simply because she’d confessed to a having a crush on him.
Horror struck her right between the ribs, making eating difficult. She kept doing it, ignoring the conversation flowing around her.
What if Hayes hadn’t come back into town?
What if she’d never told Blaine about her crush?
What if all of this—the last few months with Blaine—really had been fake, and that was why no one could really see the two of them together?
18
Trey pulled up to the white farmhouse, something not quite right about it. He and Beth were supposed to be going to dinner that night—finally. He’d finally followed-up with her about the invitation, and she finally felt like the ranch was caught up to a point where she could take a night off to go out with him.
Her father was coming to stay at the farmhouse with TJ, but Trey didn’t see another truck or car in the driveway. He got out of his truck anyway and went up the steps to the front door. His anxiety skipped through his whole system, but he managed to raise his hand and press the doorbell.
It was then that he smelled the smoke.
He spun around, searching for the tell-tale sign of fire. It wasn’t strong enough to be outside, and that only struck terror inside his heart. “Beth?” he called.
“Coming,” she yelled. She opened the door a few seconds later, and it was obvious that she was nowhere near ready to go to dinner. She wore a pair of jeans with a white paint smear up the left thigh, a T-shirt with actual holes along the collar, and her hair in a high ponytail.
She looked like she’d just come in off the ranch.
She still had her palm wrapped, though the bandage was much smaller now. The first layer of stitches had been removed, and the doctors were pleased with her healing. She’d thought that meant she could start to do more, but she’d found out the painful way that she couldn’t.
“What’s goin’ on now?” Trey asked, trying to peer around her.
“TJ thought he could try making his own scrambled eggs,” she said, her expression frazzled. “He set the egg carton on fire. We’re fine. It’s all fine.” She turned and walked away from him, those narrow hips swaying and her dark hair doing the same.
“So I’ll come in,” Trey muttered to himself, entering the farmhouse and closing the door behind him. The kitchen sat at the back of the large space, and he followed Beth there. TJ sat on a barstool near the sliding glass door, and smoke rose in thin wisps from the kitchen sink.
“I can get this cleaned up,” he said. “If you want to go finish getting ready.”
“I’m fine,” she said, picking up the frying pan from the sink and dumping the contents of it into the trashcan.
Trey looked at TJ, who watched him with wide, remorseful eyes. Trey wanted to wrap the little boy in a blanket straight from the dryer, give him a box of candy, and hold him until he ate it all and fell asleep in a sugar coma.
That was exactly what his mother had used to do for him, and Trey needed to get over to his parents’ house and make peace with them. Sometimes they could just be so pushy, and he didn’t want to go to church.
His mother worried about the