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“I could sell my house, buy a smaller place, and move half my life across the country, only to find out he never wanted any of that.”

“You could.”

The answer surprised her enough to shift her gaze from the photograph to him.

“I can’t tell you how Grady feels or what he wants. You just have to decide if he’s worth taking the risk.” He rose from the chair. “Think about it.”

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Two weeks later…

Grady hung up the phone and stared at Amanda’s picture on his nightstand.

Fifty-eight minutes.

They’d talked for fifty-eight minutes about absolutely nothing important, and he would have stayed on the phone another two hours if she hadn’t finally yawned and admitted she was exhausted.

He had missed her since the morning he’d followed her to the county line and watched the Corvette disappear down the highway. There was no point pretending otherwise. Five weeks later, he was no closer to getting used to her being gone.

Talking every day helped, but a phone call was a poor substitute for having her beside him. He wanted to see her expressions instead of imagining them from the tone of her voice. He wanted to hold her hand, kiss her, and argue with her face-to-face when she was being stubborn instead of doing it from Wyoming while she sat somewhere in California.

Mostly, he wanted her back. The realization had been sitting with him for weeks, growing harder to ignore with each passing day.

Dwelling on how much he missed her did him no damn good. He got to his feet, though wandering around the house at nine o’clock at night to find a distraction wasn’t much of a plan.

When he entered the kitchen, Rissa sat at the island with her laptop open, researching High Plains University again. Since receiving her acceptance letter, she'd spent hours looking through class schedules, campus activities, and housing options, along with making a list of everything she'd need for her first year.

She’d only applied five weeks ago and had already received her acceptance letter. The late application had come with one complication—she was on the waiting list for a dorm room. One might open up before the fall semester began, but she apparently wasn’t willing to leave her living arrangements to chance.

Fortunately, they didn’t have to worry about paying for college. With the money Grady had saved over the years, part of Leah’s life insurance payout, and several scholarships Rissa had earned, her education was covered.

Her graduation two weeks earlier had damn near done him in. Dale and Jeremiah had hosted a huge party for her at JP Ranch, and so many people had come to celebrate that Grady eventually gave up trying to keep track of everyone.

Amanda hadn’t been able to make it back for the celebration, but a package from her had arrived that morning. Inside was a leather-bound journal and a refillable pen engraved with Rissa’s name. On the first page, Amanda had written a message in her own handwriting.

For whatever you decide comes next. Make it your story.

Love, Amanda

Rissa had shown it to him before, carefully closing the journal and putting it back in its box, and her expression had told him the gift meant far more to her than its price ever could.

Amanda had also FaceTimed during the party, letting the graduate carry her around on the phone while she talked to everyone. Seeing her face on that little screen, laughing and joking with people who’d come to care about her, had only made Grady wish she’d been there in person.

Now, Rissa stopped typing and glared at him. “You’re pacing again.”

“I’m walking.”

“You’ve walked through here three times in the last half hour for no reason.”

He opened the refrigerator and stared inside, although he wasn’t hungry and had no idea what he was looking for. “I live here.”

“So do I, and somehow I can stay in one room.”

Shutting the door, he reached for a glass instead. He should’ve known better than to expect his daughter to let his mood go unnoticed. She’d inherited far too much of her mother’s ability to read him, along with an unfortunate willingness to call him on whatever she saw.

She returned her attention to the laptop while he filled the glass with water. The silent reprieve lasted less than a minute. “So, when are you going to see Amanda?”

He took a drink, buying himself a few seconds before answering. He’d been asking himself that question for weeks, but he hadn’t found any useful solution. He and Amanda had talked about seeing each other again, but their conversations always ended with some variation of “soon” or “we’ll figure it out.”