“Avery, what’s going on? I didn’t know you were working here this vacation.” Something didn’t compute in his brain.
She came up next to the girl—her daughter?—and put a hand on the doorframe, looking at him with such emotion in her eyes that it made his mouth go dry. “Doc Oates retired. What do you want, Tucker?”
What did he want? What kind of question was that?
“I don’t understand.” Nothing quite fit together, like a puzzle with all the wrong pieces. “Why don’t you live with your parents?”
Avery arched an eyebrow, the way she always did when he was being deliberately obtuse. “Because they sold their house and moved.”
“But why—” He put a hand to one temple and rubbed at the pain pulsing underneath. “Why would they have moved?”
Avery’s face went cold, and he saw all the old signs of irritation creeping in—the tension in her jaw, the slightly flared nostrils. She’d just opened her mouth to speak when he took his hand away from his temple and found it covered in blood.
Oh. Blood.
“You mad about something, Avery?” He wanted to understand so badly that he didn’t bother with the blood. It would stop, or it wouldn’t. “Tell me what it is. I’ll do better.”
Her face softened, concern coming into her eyes.
“Why don’t you come in a minute, Tucker? Let me take a look at that.” Avery ushered him inside, the warmth in the house feeling as good as winning the lottery. “This way. Right through here, to the kitchen. Did you come here by yourself, or did you ride here?”
“I put my horse in the barn.” His tongue felt thick in his mouth. “Hope that’s okay.”
“Sure it is.” She led him down the hall to the kitchen and sat him in one of the chairs by the table while she gathered supplies. “You’ve got a cut on your head. I’m going to bandage it up, but I want to clean it.”
Avery’s touch was so gentle, so careful. He found himself leaning into it. She stepped back. It froze his blood in his veins. What had happened? What had made her so angry, so cold? She held herself pointedly away while she applied some butterfly bandages to the cut above his temple.
Then she came around to stand in front of him.
“You probably have a concussion.” Avery surveyed him with her gorgeous blue eyes, the color of the sky and burning with intelligence. “You’ll need to get it checked out at the hospital as soon as you can.”
He heard what she was saying, but the thing was—the thing was—Tucker couldn’t take his eyes off her.
“You look older,” he finally managed.
Avery flicked her eyes toward the ceiling. “Well, of course I do, Tuck.”
“What—” Something dawned on him, slowly, painfully slowly. “What year is it?”
She named the year.
Tucker felt like he’d walked straight off the edge of a high cliff and plummeted toward the ground. Confusion battled with irritation.
“Is that a prank, Avery?” He frowned at her. This was by far the worst headache he’d ever had. “You look older, but—are you kidding me?” He stood up and went down the hall to the bathroom. He’d been here so many times growing up, to get the doctor or to pick something up from him. Tucker flicked on the light and peered at his own reflection. He cursed under his breath. He looked older too.
“Mom? What’s he doing? Who is that guy?”
The little girl’s voice rang out from the kitchen, clear as a bell.
“Shanna, he’s—” Avery’s voice trailed off. So the girl’s name was Shanna. Avery’s daughter. He felt vaguely ill. When had she had a baby?
“Tucker?” Avery appeared in the doorway to the bathroom. “Are you all right?”
“I’ve got amnesia,” he blurted. “It’s the only thing that makes sense, because—I can’t remember. The time must’ve gone by, but I can’t remember it.” Shanna came to stand in the hall behind her mother. “You have to help me out, here.”
Avery shot him a skeptical look. “Yeah? Amnesia? Is that what you think?”
Frustration twisted in his chest, constricting his heart. “Why are you being so aloof with me?” He didn’t understand, and that lack of understanding felt like a knife wedged between his ribs. “I don’t understand what’s going on.”
“Why don’t I give you a ride home?” His heart beat faster, fighting against this quick dismissal. “I’ve got the truck out front. We can hop in and be there in a couple of minutes. You can collect your horse tomorrow.”
“Fine. Great.” Tucker followed her to the front door.
The snow came down hard outside, and Avery stopped at the front door, looking out.
A whiteout.
“Doesn’t look like good driving weather,” Tucker put in.
“No.” She turned around and crossed her arms over her chest. “You can stay here until the storm passes, but this isn’t going to be good. I need to get to my patients.”
“What patients?”
Avery narrowed her eyes. “I’m a veterinarian. I took over Doc’s practice.”
A joy he could hardly explain lit him up from the inside out. Avery had always wanted to be a vet, and now she was. He’d missed the process, somehow, but who cared? She’d gotten where she always wanted to go.
“Congratulations, Avery. That’s amazing.” Tucker held out his arms to give her a hug.
Avery stepped back.
The joy fled.
She glared at him, eyes filled with pain and confusion, saying nothing.
Tucker swallowed a lump in his throat, worry pulling his soul taut until it was ready to snap.
“Okay, then,” he said. “Can I use your phone?”
2
For the life of her, Avery couldn’t figure out what Tucker was playing at.
Amnesia? Really? He’d obviously hit his head—the cut above his temple proved that much. But forgetting the last ten years? Was that even possible?
It
