In morning's darkness, Megan slipped out of the cabin and headed to the corral. Brett's warning stayed at the forefront of her thoughts, but it did not push aside her heart's voice. "Is Colby worth a broken heart? What if he doesn't break it?"
Leaned over the fence, Megan breathed in the cold, damp, clean air. Despite the brain awakening, answers remained elusive. "Again, I get a summer of questions with no answers. Can't I even get a multiple choice?" she asked to no one.
"Life doesn't work that way," a voice answered.
"Hey," she said as life channeled through her veins. Something about the man who stood beside her, breathed life into her. Never had she experienced such an emotion with anyone. What made him extra special? Why this connection to someone she barely knew?
After a deep breath and feeling the redness dissipate from her cheeks, she turned to Colby. It brought no surprise to see him in the same clothes he wore yesterday.
"I never left," he said, realizing she recognized the clothes.
"I know," Megan said, looking him directly in the eyes. She looked deeper, trying to find a thread or symbol of what drew them together. Again, nothing surfaced. She blamed it on an overactive imagination. What other explanation was there?
"Talk to me," Colby said his hand on her arm. "How did you know I was here last night?" He stared deep into her eyes as if she had put him in a trance. When she realized he was trying to read her soul, she shrugged and turned away.
Even she did not understand the power that coursed between them. An unknown force bound them together. The one thing she understood was he would soon know the truth-she liked him, more than she had ever liked anyone. To admit it now seemed dangerous, perhaps foolish. They only just met and knew little about each other. Megan wanted time to explore a friendship, perhaps a relationship. "No," she decided. "To tell him now will ruin all chances." Then reality struck.
"Oh no," she mumbled. "Does Brett know you're here?" Fear surrounded her words.
"He knows." He shrugged as if it were no big deal.
"But," "Long story," he said, winking. His mood turned serious and his long, slender fingers gripped the top fence rail. Though eager to ask, Megan sensed he needed a few moments. Minutes passed and then he spoke. "I'm ready to speak with my grandfather, I think. Even now my head and heart are fighting. It seemed possible until I spoke the words." He ran his fingers through his smooth hair. "Help," he said, sounding like a lost and frightened child.