Her mouth went dry, but she forced out the words anyway. “Well, I can’t speak for the rest of town, but you’re certainly not welcome on our property.”
Toby cocked his head. “He didn’t tell you?”
Her gaze finally connected with his. Which was a mistake. A huge one. She’d avoided looking him in the eye until now, but she’d have a hard time looking away. “You know I hate when you ask leading questions. Spit it out.”
“Your dad hired me. I work here now.” He hooked his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the farmhouse. “In fact, I’m living in the bunkhouse.”
“Since—” her voice faltered “—since when?”
“Moved in last night.” He studied her. Almost as if he was waiting for her to smile or be friendly. Then he sighed. “The lights were off at your place so I figured you guys were out.”
It felt like the air had been sucked from her lungs. An ache rocked through her chest. Do not have a panic attack. Not now. Not here. Not in front of him.
“No,” she whispered.
“Jenna.” Toby’s voice was soft and warm as he took a step closer. “Your dad needs help.”
“I’m here.” She narrowed her gaze and pressed her hand into her chest. “I help him.”
“And run this place, too?” He tossed out his hands, encompassing the whole orchard. “All by yourself? Why? I spent every summer during junior high and high school working for him, taking care of this place.”
“Yeah, and then you left on the back of a convertible, waving like a hero from the town parade, and never looked back.” She spun on her heels, determined to flee from the situation before an attack brought her to her knees. She needed to be alone and mentally review what had just happened. Figure out a plan for coping with seeing Toby again.
But Toby caught her arm. “You’re angry.” He said it like it was some huge revelation. As if he hadn’t been the one to pretend to be her friend when it was just the two of them but then made fun of her in public, causing the final two years of high school to be some of the most miserable of her life.
She shoved his hand off her arm and squared her shoulders. “I’d have to actually care to be angry, but when it comes to you and your life, hear this—I don’t care.”
* * *
Toby watched Jenna stalk through the grass away from him. A penny toad and a couple grasshoppers fled from her steps.
Oh. She was mad. She was so mad she couldn’t stand to look at him.
That was unexpected.
“Jen-na,” he groaned, dragging out the two syllables in her name, just like the old days.
She picked up her speed.
Despite the fact, or possibly because of the fact, that Jenna had been homeschooled for most of her childhood, she’d been Toby’s best friend. Toby’s entire childhood was a wash of his parents caring for his brother, trying to help Ben fight the leukemia that had eventually taken his life. It could have been lonely, but the Crest family—Jenna in particular—had made sure his days were full of laughter and friendship. She’d always been a beacon of hope in his life, just waiting across the street. Because she was homeschooled, he’d been able to make their friendship this safe and secret thing that was only for him. None of his friends at the public school knew about Jenna, and he’d liked it that way. She was his. Special. The one person he didn’t have to pretend with.
When her mother died during their junior year of high school, Jenna’s dad had to enroll her in the public high school. The school Toby attended. His school friends had consisted of other guys on the football team and the girls who trailed after that type. Jenna was always shy to the point of being silent in large groups and had worn outfits made out of pleated resale-shop jeans and flowery tops that were appropriate for grade school children. She’d had a braid that hung well past her lower back. A rumor had worked its way through school during her first week there that she was half-Amish. She had worn thick purple-rimmed glasses and had a mouth full of braces back then. His group would have ridiculed her every single day if they had known he and she were best friends.
They would have ridiculed him, too.
But he’d protected her by not letting his school friends know they were close. He’d saved her from so much grief and teasing that public knowledge of their friendship would have brought on her. At least, his actions had made sense back in high school. She knew that, right? Ten years had passed since graduation.
No one was stubborn enough to hang on to hurt for that long.
Then again, Jenna had once not spoken for two weeks when they were ten or eleven years old because he’d dared her that she wouldn’t be able to. Perhaps people could do anything they put their minds to, even if their minds were set on holding on to something toxic.
“Wait up!” He started after her at a jog. Leaves rustled, and a branch scraped against his arm as he cut through a row of trees in order to catch up.
She kept her eyes fixed on the barn and farmhouse in the distance. “Leave me alone, Toby.”
“I can’t. Not when I’m going to be living a stone’s throw from your house for the foreseeable future.” He tried to infuse his smile with a measure of warmth, hoping to thaw her mood. “That’s even closer than when we were across-the-street neighbors. Neither of us ever imagined that would happen one day, did we?”
“Stop chatting about the old days as if we’re still friends.”
“Aren’t we?” His voice squeaked. Why did his voice squeak?
Sure, he hadn’t called or written in ten years—but then, neither had she. His parents talked to her dad regularly, so she could have gotten Toby’s information if she had wanted it. Evidently, she hadn’t. Women were like that though, weren’t they? For them to consider someone a friend, it seemed as if they had to talk weekly and catch up. Come to think of it, Toby’s mom always bugged him about returning her calls. Men could not talk for twenty years, bump into an old buddy fishing and suddenly act like they hadn’t missed any time. Men didn’t need all the “Why didn’t you ever call?” nonsense.
Jenna stopped in her tracks and glared at him. “Listen, you might as well go pack your things because I’m going to talk to my father, and when I’m done, he’s going to un-offer you that position.”
Her hands were fisted at her sides. She looked like she might start yelling. Which wasn’t like the Jenna from his memories. She’d always been smiling, quick to tease him but also the first and most constant encourager in his life. For a long time, she’d been the only one who believed he was good enough to become a professional athlete.
Unfortunately, he’d ended up disappointing everyone. Especially Jenna.
Maybe returning to Goose Harbor had been a mistake. Even still, they both knew Mr. Crest would never toss him out after offering him a job and a place to stay. Jenna’s dad was a man of his word.
“You know that—”
“We don’t need more help on the orchard.” She lifted her chin. “I’m doing just fine on my own, and we always hire seasonal help once harvest gets into full swing anyway.”
Toby’s gaze raked over her. Frustration had always made her appealing, but there was something more that captured his attention today. Her pale cheeks became the color of sunset pink. Her dark blue eyes deepened, like the crashing waves of Lake Michigan right before a storm. Gone was his awkward once-best friend. She was replaced by a gorgeous woman with thick eyelashes and wavy golden curls. The pleated jeans were now dark-wash ones that accentuated the curve of her hips and the narrowing of her waist, and the Crest Orchard T-shirt she wore hugged her torso. Jenna