Tucker got the dishes together and had taken care of the skillet and frying pan when another set of footsteps caught his attention.
“Hey.”
He looked over his shoulder at Avery, who studied him like she couldn’t quite believe he was there.
“Where’s Shanna?”
He tipped his head toward the wide backyard. “She went out to play.”
Avery laughed, the sound tugging at something deep within him. “She’s never liked cleaning up.”
“I’ve never liked it either.” Tucker fished for his plate at the bottom of the sink while Avery came to put the tray away, slipping her plate over his hands. “But it became a habit when I was living alone and out of suitcases.”
Avery frowned. The winter light from the kitchen window made her look like something out of a dream. She was dreamlike enough without it, but standing near the window—wow. “Is your memory returning?”
He looked down at his hands in the water. At the edges of his mind, he could remember…a trip. Vague details. A plane, and kneeling on the ground. Where had he been?
“I think I remember going to Cameroon.” Wet ground, soaking his pants. The heft of the camera in his hands. “I was photographing gorillas when—” A gun, going off too close. The gorilla falling, the other animals screaming, his heart in his throat. “When some poachers shot one of them. I wanted to intervene, but the guide made us stay hidden to avoid being killed, too.”
Tucker’s face had gone hot, and his muscles tensed with the rush of the memory. He’d felt so powerless. That was it—that had been the last time he’d gone on a trip like that. It had been just before Mina and Liam got married. They were married, weren’t they? They’d gotten married. He’d been at the wedding. His hands shook around the plate.
He took one deep breath, then another, feeling Avery’s eyes on him the whole time. Get yourself under control, he thought. You’re not in Cameroon anymore. There are no poachers here.
Avery whistled, the sound low and mournful. “A lot’s happened since we broke up.”
The final piece of the puzzle. There it was, like he’d known it all along. There was no hint of a joke in her blue eyes, no levity, only an old sadness.
“Aw, Avery, we didn’t.” His heart tumbled down, landing near the pit of his stomach. “I would’ve remembered that.”
“We did.” She straightened up, lifting her chin. “A long time ago.”
An ache spread across his chest. There wasn’t quite enough air in the room. Had he known this? Why couldn’t he remember? He should remember something like breaking up with Avery. It made a horrible kind of sense. How would she have gone and had a kid with someone else if they’d been together? A lot’s happened.
“Man.” He finally got his hands moving again to clean the plate. He pulled it out of the sink, rinsed it, and put it on the drying rack. “That’s—I don’t know.”
Avery still watched him. After a heavy silence, she reached a hand up to his head and moved his hair aside. It was still sore and sensitive, but the headache wasn’t as pronounced as the night before.
“How do you feel this morning?”
Devastated, he wanted to say, but he swallowed that back. “Good. Other than a headache and not being able to remember most of the last ten years, I’m fine.”
“That’s good.” Avery dropped her hand. Another pause rose between them, during which he wanted to ask her a thousand questions about how things had gone so wrong between them. “Do you think you’d be up to helping with the chores? We’re pretty well socked in here, or I’d give you a ride home. I don’t think you should ride your horse back until we’re sure you don’t have any symptoms of a concussion.”
“I’m more than up to it.” In fact, a certain desperation had taken him over. He needed to move. Breathe some fresh air. Get his head on straight. “What needs doing?”
“The storm’s going to hit again, and before then, there’s quite a few things—”
Tucker couldn’t take his eyes off Avery’s lips while she ran through the list. Ten minutes later, he’d finished up the dishes and got his coat on. The two of them went out to do the daily chores from the farm. They started with feeding the animals. Betty nuzzled his palm and went straight back to ignoring him. She liked the new digs. Avery went down the line of stalls, checking on the other horses in the barn. He hadn’t even noticed them in his hurry to put Betty there last night.
“How are you, my girl?” Avery looked into another horse’s eyes and stroked her nose. “You look like you’re feeling a little better.” It sent a shiver of pride down his back. Avery was so confident. So soothing. So gentle, just like she’d been with him the night before. It seemed like she’d turned into an excellent vet overnight, but of course she hadn’t. This moment had been years in the making.
When she was done checking on the animals, they went out and shoveled paths between the barn and the house. Best to keep the snow under control, even if they got socked in again, which was likely.
He watched Avery shoveling in her red coat and white hat, her dark hair spilling down her shoulders. This could have been his life for the last decade. He dug his shovel into the snow, that same ache pummeling his chest. Why had they ever broken up? Why, why, why? The question went around in his head like a skater in an endless loop around a rink. She was so good with the animals. So good with her daughter. In a lot of ways, she was just like he remembered her—kind, with a gentle touch.
She must’ve gone to college after all, and veterinary school after that. He could vaguely remember a scholarship she’d had. It had been to
