She kicked her horse into a trot.

He thought: Shit. And let her take her distance. Maybe she’d blow off the steam of temper, maybe she wouldn’t, but temper was better than exhaustion. She needed to ride, he thought, needed to just breathe awhile. The air filled with the scents of sage and juniper, while overhead an eagle circled on the hunt. He heard what he thought was the drumming of a grouse from a thicket of buckbrush that looked like it wanted to open its tight buds and bloom.

Mad or not, he knew she’d take it all in and be better for it.

She might not look up and watch the eagle, but she knew it was there.

When she finally slowed, he caught up with her. No, he decided, she hadn’t blown off the steam. She rode on it every bit as much as she rode on Rocky.

“How can you say that to me?” she demanded. “All you’ve ever wanted? You left me. You broke my heart.”

“We’re remembering it differently, because I don’t remember anybody leaving anybody. And you sure didn’t act brokenhearted when we decided the long-distance deal wasn’t working.”

“When you decided. I came halfway to New York to see you, to be with you. I’d wanted to go all the way, to spend real time with you on your turf. In your place. But you wouldn’t have that.” Those dark eyes stabbed at him, lethal as knives. “I guess you figured it would be harder to dump me if I was sitting in your New York apartment.”

“Jesus Christ, Lil, I didn’t dump you.” They wounded him, those eyes, spilled blood she couldn’t see. “It wasn’t like that.”

“What the hell was it like, from your perspective? You told me you couldn’t keep doing it, that you needed to concentrate on your own life, your own career.”

“I said we couldn’t, we needed.”

“Oh, bullshit!” Rocky shied a bit, disturbed by the tone, the temper. She controlled him with no sign of effort or concern. “You had no right to speak for me or my feelings. Not then, not now.”

“You sure as hell didn’t say so at the time.” His horse danced, as uneasy as Rocky. Coop steadied him, and would have turned so he and Lil were face-to-face. But she trotted off. Again. Setting his teeth, Coop nudged his mount to follow. “You agreed with me,” he added, annoyed with the defensiveness in his tone once he’d caught up.

“What the hell was I supposed to do? Fling myself into your arms and beg you to stay with me, to love me?”

“Actually-”

“I drove all the way to that damn motel in Illinois, so excited. It felt like years since we’d seen each other, and I was worried you wouldn’t like my hair, or my outfit. Stupid things. And I was aching to see you. Literally aching. Even my damn toes hurt.”

“Lil-”

“And I knew the minute I saw you that something was wrong. You got there before I did-remember? I saw you crossing the parking lot, coming from that little diner.”

Her voice changed. The anger leaked out of it as misery pushed in. Where the anger wounded him, the misery simply destroyed.

He said nothing, let her finish. Though he could’ve told her yes, he remembered. He remembered crossing that pothole of a parking lot, remembered the first instant he became aware of her. He remembered the thrill, the need, the despair.

All of it.

“You didn’t see me, at first. And I knew. I tried to tell myself it was just nerves, seeing you again. It was just… you looked different. Tougher, harder.”

“I was different. We both were by then.”

“My feelings hadn’t changed, not like yours.”

“Wait a minute.” He reached out to snag her bridle. “Wait a minute.”

“We made love, almost the minute we closed the door of that motel room. And I knew you were going to end it. Do you think I couldn’t tell you’d pulled away, pulled back?”

“I pulled back? How many times had you? Why had it been so long since we’d seen each other? There was always a project, a field trip, a-”

“You’re blaming me?”

“There’s no blame,” he began, but she swung off her horse, stalked away.

Struggling for patience, he dismounted to tether both the horses. “You need to listen.”

“I loved you. I loved you. You were the one, the only one. I’d have done anything for you, for us.”

“That’s part of the problem.”

“Loving you was a problem?”

“That you’d have done anything. Lil, just-hold still, damn it.” He gripped her shoulders when she would have walked away from him again. “You knew what you wanted to do with your life. You knew what you wanted, and you were doing it. Top of your class, honors and opportunities. You came alive, Lil. You were exactly where you needed to be, doing exactly what you needed to do. I couldn’t be a part of that, and I sure as hell couldn’t get in the way of it.”

“Now you’re claiming you dumped me and ripped my heart out for my own good? Is that how you choose to look at it?”

“That’s how it was, how it is.”

“I never got over you, you bastard.” Anger and insult in every part of her-face, body, voice-she shoved at him. “You ruined me. You took something from me, and I could never get it back, never give it to anyone else. I hurt a good man, a very good man, because I couldn’t love him, because I couldn’t give him what he deserved to have and you’d thrown away. I tried. Jean-Paul was perfect for me, and I should’ve been able to make it work. But I couldn’t, because he wasn’t you. And he knew, he always knew. Now you want to stand there and tell me you left for my sake?”

“We were children, Lil. We were just kids.”

“I didn’t love you any less, or hurt any less, because I was nineteen.”

“You were going somewhere. You were making a mark. I needed to make mine. So yeah, I did it for you, and for me. I had nothing to give you.”

“Bullshit.” She started to wrench away, but he yanked her back.

“I had nothing. I was nothing. I was broke, living from paycheck to paycheck-if I was lucky. Living in a dump because it was all I could afford, and moonlighting when I could get the extra work. I didn’t get out here often because I didn’t have the money for the trip.”

“You said-”

“I lied. I said I was busy, or couldn’t get time off. Mostly true, since I was working two jobs if I could get the extra work, and angling for overtime when I could get it. But that wasn’t why I didn’t come back more than I did. I sold the bike because I couldn’t afford it. I sold blood to make rent some months.”

“For God’s sake, Coop, if things were that bad why didn’t you-”

“Tap my grandparents? Because they’d already given me a start, and I wasn’t going to take more money from them.”

“You could’ve come home. You-”

“Come back here a failure, with barely enough to pay for a bus ticket? I needed to make myself into something, and you should understand that. There should’ve been money, a cut from my trust, when I turned twenty-one. I needed it, to get a decent place to live, to have a breather so I could work on the job and make that mark. My father tied it up. He was so pissed that I’d gone against his decisions, his plan for me. I had some money, what my grandparents gave me-what was left of it-my savings. He got my accounts frozen.”

“How?”

“It’s what he does. He knows people, he knows the system. Add that to the fact I’d screwed up in college, tossing money around like it was confetti. That’s my fault, nobody else’s, but I was young, stupid, in debt, and he had me by the balls. He figured I’d fall in line.”

“Are you telling me your father cut you off financially, cut you off from even what was yours, because he wanted you to be a lawyer?”