And that’s when Sue walked up. Jen looked at the phone in her hand. It was one hell of a stone, and she was about to kill two birds with it.

When she was done telling them everything, Aimee just went over to Ainsley, told her to kiss her aunt good-bye, then wordlessly steered her daughter somewhere out of sight.

“I’m sorry,” Jen told Sue, who’d been standing there with her head tilted and lemon-sour lips. Jen couldn’t remain under the weight of that look anymore, so she turned away.

She couldn’t put off telling Leith any longer. Knowing how fast word spread in this town, if she didn’t get over to the athletic field right now, she’d miss her chance.

Ropes of colorful flapping flags divided the onlookers from the big men in the interior field. The athletes had returned to ribbing each other and warming up after their brief landscaping-and-fence-repair interlude. Leith included.

He and Duncan were taking turns jumping up onto a high box. Leith claimed he wasn’t in shape, that he was out of practice and couldn’t do stuff like that anymore, but he looked better even than Duncan. The two stopped to share a laugh, Leith doubling over. As Jen neared, she could make out new lines of sweat trickling down the side of his face. He raised an arm to wipe one cheek against his short sleeve. It pulled the T-shirt free from his kilt, displaying a patch of hard skin. A patch she knew particularly well.

Duncan gave Leith a nudge and pointed to her. Leith’s powerful torso twisted, and when he saw her, he flashed that thrilling grin, the one that said Everything is right with the world.

He met her halfway across the field, his eyes bright. “What’s up? Wait, I know that look. Things aren’t perfect, but everything’ll be fine. No one here cares about the tents. The damn cow will have people talking for months. And I know Scott will probably go to jail and Chris’s band won’t play, but Chris just told me he’s gonna go on solo later this afternoon. The crowd’ll love him—” He stepped back, his face falling. “That’s not it, is it?”

Just rip off the Band-Aid, Haverhurst. The longer she stalled, the worse it was going to be.

She licked her lips, feeling the hot morning sun on the part of her hair. “I have to go.”

His eyebrows pinched together. “The pipe band truck thing? Yeah, I heard. T came over to flip that blue hair in front of one of the high school helpers and told him her parents had gone off on the rescue. You taking off to help them?”

“No. I’m . . . I have to go back to New York.”

Now his eyebrows formed one long strip as he lowered his chin. “Right. Tomorrow. When we said we’d drive south together.”

“I mean today.”

He just stared. And stared. “After the closing ceremonies?”

“No. Now.” She drew up her shoulders and held up her phone like it could magically provide proof. It might have been the wrong thing to do because he looked at the thing with immediate wariness. “My boss, my real boss, called. There’s an emergency back in New York. If I don’t get back tonight and fix it, I’ll lose a really big client and possibly the promotion I’ve wanted since the day I started working there. I need to leave as soon as possible.”

He wiped at the corners of his mouth with a forefinger and thumb. He took several breaths before finally getting out, “Now. You’re leaving now. Before the games even get going.”

She put her phone away and her hands felt terribly empty. “It’s my actual job, Leith. My real one. The one that pays the bills.”

Lips tight, he nodded. “I thought you had an assistant.”

“She’s the one who fucked everything up and now it’s on my head.”

“It’s Saturday. Can’t you fix it Monday? You know, during normal work hours?”

She breathed steadily through her nose. She’d expected this, she reminded herself. “I don’t work normal hours. Neither do you, as I recall.” As she stepped closer to him, he didn’t reach for her. “I’m not a superhero. I can’t be two places at once. I’ve been standing over there, wracking my brain trying to figure out how to do both, but I just can’t. I have to choose. And, yes, my heart is telling me to stay, but my brain and my duty are pulling me back to the city.”

Over Leith’s shoulder she glimpsed one of the athletes starting toward him, until Duncan stopped him with a hand to his chest.

Leith’s hands slid to his hips. “I was supposed to go back to Connecticut this weekend, you know.”

“Yes. I do know.”

“It was the only weekend Rory’s husband was going to be in town to approve my plans. She moved up my complete date by three weeks. I can’t really afford to be here either, but I am. I stayed. For them.” He nudged his chin at the pockets of people he’d grown up with, and many more he hadn’t. “For Da’s memory.”

“I understand what you’ve done,” she said. “What it took to make you stay. But really, what made you stay—your past, your roots—is the very same reason why I have to go. There were things you needed to do and finish here. There are things I need to do and finish there.”

He seemed to barely hear her. “I also stayed for you, remember.”

She started to fidget, shifting from foot to foot. “I know. I don’t want to go. I told you. I had to make a choice. But we’ll see each other next week, when you get to Connecticut. Then we’ll figure everything else out.”

He shook his head in disbelief. “You really aren’t seeing this? The similarities? How this looks to me? How it feels?”

“Similarities to—? Oh.” She closed her eyes. “Shit. I’m sorry. I really am.”

“I mean, I understand that what happened ten years ago was when we were kids, that you had legitimate reasons for not staying, but right over there”—he jabbed a finger toward the fairgrounds and his voice rose—“is where I told you how I felt, and then watched you walk away right after. And today I’m standing in almost the exact same spot, watching you leave again. After I told you exactly how I feel now. I fucking hate watching you walk away. I can’t change that reaction, and I won’t apologize for it.”

“You shouldn’t have to apologize. I should. And I am.”

“I’m not pissed off because you’re going after your dream. I told you I get you, and I do. What you told me in New York, about your mom and Iowa and coming here . . . it’s powerful stuff that I totally understand. But if we’re being honest, I’m pissed off because I sacrificed something big to be here for Gleann and for you, and you’re turning away. I’m scared for what this could mean to us, that this is a sign of things to come.”

His unspoken question: When will you sacrifice for me?

But she had, by pushing aside her larger goals for a time to be here in the first place. So in essence she already had sacrificed to be reunited with him. Why did she have to sacrifice more to keep his faith? It wasn’t fucking fair. The whole thing was all too convoluted and didn’t make any sense. This was supposed to end perfectly.

She reached up to take his face. He let her, but his reciprocal touch—light fingers at her waist—lacked his usual warmth.

“I told you we would try,” she said. “I meant it.”

“Don’t go,” he whispered, his frustration coming through loud and clear. His hands at her waist suddenly bit in.

“I have to,” she whispered back, then tried to step out of his arms. He held fast. “I’m so sorry.”

He kissed her, swift and light, like she’d already slipped away. Like it was their last time. Like he was saying good-bye. She forced herself to ignore the sense of foreboding it caused.

“Call me tomorrow from the road?” she said.

Leith did not look at her as he replied, “Why don’t you call me? Hopefully it’ll go better than the last long-distance phone call we had.”

Ouch. “It will.”

But he’d already turned, and right then she knew exactly what he’d meant about hating to watch her walk away. The sight of his stiff back and shoulders, and the heavy plod of his boots on the grass thundered through her body. It shouldn’t have made her worry that this might indeed be the last time she’d see him . . . but it did.