Once Burned by Suzie O'Connell Page B

Northstar Mountains Scenic Byway but no less gorgeous. The towering peaks of the Anaconda Range, still bearing the ragged remnants of the past winter’s snows, rose majestically to the west and north while tall ridges blanketed in pines and firs and groves of quaking aspen flanked the valley on the east and south, and meandering streams kept the narrow valley bottom vividly green beneath the burning August sun. The wind was warm on Henry’s exposed skin, but periodically they passed through pockets of cooler air, particularly when they neared one of the streams and as they climbed higher toward Mount Haggin. Pastures and meadows were still flooded with wildflowers, and Henry recalled his family remarking that the winter had been cold, wet, and long. Good. The area had been experiencing drought conditions for much of the past decade, and he hoped the dry spell was coming to an end.
    Henry chuckled at himself. Yeah, coming back was the right move if I’m already thinking like a rancher again.
    In Anaconda, they found a small mom-and-pop sandwich shop and ordered their lunch to go, then headed back toward Northstar to eat their meal picnic-style somewhere along the road. Henry pulled off at a point-of-interest turnout overlooking an old homestead, and they ate at the picnic table just beyond the parking area.
    “It’s neat how you can feel the differences in air temperature on the back of a motorcycle,” Lindsay remarked.
    “Yep, you definitely don’t get that in a car. Or quite the sense of scale, either.”
    “Indeed not.” She set her sandwich down and leaned forward on her elbows. “So, what’s the story behind the bike? I know it has a story.”
    “Not much of one. I bought it when I graduated from high school from an old guy down in Devyn for cheap. It needed a little love, so I used it as a project in college. Had it ever since.”
    “College,” Lindsay murmured wistfully. “I can’t tell you how often I’ve wondered what I missed by not going right after high school.”
    “You could still go, you know.”
    “Maybe, but if I do , it won’t be the same experience I would’ve had going straight out of high school. I lost that wide-eyed wonder of new independence a long time ago.”
    “What does that have to do with anything?”
    “My parents used to tell me that the experiences of discovering themselves, making friends, and testing their independence were even more valuable than the degrees they earned. I already know how I am, and maybe I struggle a lot, but I’ve proven that I can be independent. Do you think they’re right?”
    Henry thought back over his four years at the university in Devyn, and with one appalling exception, which he didn’t feel comfortable divulging without Nick’s and Beth’s permission, he very much agreed with Lindsay’s parents. “I’d say yes, definitely. I had a great time, and while I don’t know if I discovered who I am at college, I certainly made great friends and learned a lot about being independent… even if I did go to school less than an hour’s drive from home.”
    “Skye and Evie agree, too.”
    There was a touch—just a hint—of bitterness in her voice, and when she grimaced, he suspected she was both envious of her friends and
    “Were you supposed to go to school with them?”
    She nodded. “But I had a brand-new baby to take care of.”
    “I’m sorry, Lindsay. I really am.”
    She glanced sharply at him. “I’m not. Maybe things haven’t been all sunshine and roses for me, and maybe I often wish things had happened differently, but I love my son, and I will never regret having him. That beautiful little boy is worth every dream and luxury I’ve given up and then some.”
    Henry held his hands up. “I was just trying to say I’m sorry for everything you must have been through and that you had to give up so much for your son.”
    When her scowl deepened, he swore under his breath. Obviously, he was not communicating his thoughts very