The Longest Ride

innocent, all-consuming way. Part of her had known he wouldn’t change, and that feeling only grew stronger over the summer, and her instincts were proven right. By the time they’d broken up, it felt as if it had already been over for a long time.

And yes, she admitted she’d been upset afterward. Who wouldn’t be? They’d dated for almost two years; it would have been strange if she hadn’t been upset. But she was far more upset by the other things he’d done: the calls, the texts, following her around campus. Why didn’t Marcia understand that?

Satisfied that she’d sorted through everything, Sophia approached the exit that would lead to the ranch, feeling a little better. Marcia didn’t know what she was talking about. She was doing fine emotionally, and she wasn’t on the rebound. Luke was a nice guy and they were still getting to know each other. It wasn’t like she was going to fall in love with him. It wasn’t like the thought had even occurred to her.

Right?
     

     
    As Sophia pulled up the drive, she was still trying to silence the irritating voice of her roommate, unsure whether she should park at Luke’s or head on over to the farmhouse. It was already getting dark, and a thin layer of fog had drifted in. Despite her headlights, she had to lean over the wheel to see where she was going. She drove slowly, vaguely wondering if Dog would appear to direct her. Just then, she spotted him wandering into the road at the turnoff.

Dog trotted ahead of the car, occasionally glancing over his shoulder until she reached Luke’s bungalow. She pulled to a stop and parked in the same location she had before. Lights were blazing inside, and she saw Luke in the window, standing in what she thought might be the kitchen. By the time she’d shut off the engine and climbed out, Luke was stepping off the porch and walking toward her. He wore jeans and boots and a white collared shirt with the sleeves rolled halfway up, his hat nowhere in sight. She took a deep breath, steadying herself, wishing again she hadn’t talked to Marcia. Despite the darkness, she could tell he was smiling.

“Hey there,” he called out. When he was close, he leaned in to kiss her, and she caught a whiff of shampoo and soap. It was short, just a kiss of greeting, but somehow he must have sensed her hesitation.

“Something’s bothering you,” he said.

“I’m okay,” she demurred. She offered a quick smile but found it hard to look at him.

He said nothing for a beat, then nodded. “All right,” he said. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Despite his unwavering gaze, she realized that she wasn’t sure what he was thinking. “Me too.”

He took a small step backward and tucked a hand in his pocket. “Did you get your paper written?”

The distance made it easier for her to think.

“Not all of it,” she answered. “I got a good start, though. How did it go here?”

“Okay,” he said. “We sold most of the pumpkins. The only ones left are those that are better for pies, anyway.”

She noticed, for the first time, a trace of remaining dampness in his hair. “What will you do with those?”

“My mom will can them. And then, for the rest of the year, she’ll make the tastiest pies and pumpkin bread in the world.”

“Sounds like it could be another business.”

“Not a chance. Not because she couldn’t, but because she’d hate being in the kitchen all day. She’s kind of an outdoor person.”

“I guess she’d have to be.”

For a moment, neither of them said anything, and for the first time since she’d met him, the silence felt awkward.

“You ready?” he asked, motioning toward the farmhouse. “I got the charcoal going just a few minutes ago.”

“I’m ready,” she said. As they walked, she wondered if he would reach for her hand, but he didn’t. Instead, he left her alone with her thoughts as they rounded the grove of trees. The fog continued to thicken, especially in the distance, the pastures entirely hidden from view. The barn was nothing but a shadow, and the farmhouse, with its lights beckoning in the windows, resembled a glowing jack-o’-lantern.

She could hear the crunch of gravel beneath her feet. “I just realized you never told me your mom’s name. Should I call her Mrs. Collins?”

The question seemed to stump him. “I don’t know. I just call her Mom.”

“What’s her first name?”

“Linda.”

Sophia mentally tried them out. “I think Mrs. Collins,” she said.