“Rich?” I called into the principal’s office.

“Emmeline! Come in, please,” he said, standing from his desk. “What can I do for you?”

“I’m not sure what to do about a student and I was wondering if I could get your thoughts,” I said as we both sat.

“Of course. Which student?”

“Mason Carpenter.”

He frowned. “I wondered if there were going to be problems with Mason. What’s happening?”

“It’s been almost a month since he moved here and he hardly speaks. I’m getting worried that his behavior isn’t just because he’s shy. He doesn’t make eye contact with me. If I get too close, he flinches. He won’t have anything to do with the other kids except Rowen Cleary. He’ll whisper to her and then she’ll tell me what he says.”

“That is a bit extreme. I’ve seen some kids act like that for the first few days, maybe even a week, but then they get used to the new setting. Has he gotten at all better over the last month?” Rich asked.

“No. I worry about his behavior, but on top of that, his appearance is throwing up all these red flags. Every day this week he’s come to school dirty and he’s been wearing flip-flops to school. I haven’t seen him with socks or a pair of sneakers yet. It’s much too cold for flip-flops.”

My worries over Mason Carpenter had grown significantly, especially after this morning. His normally brown hair had been almost black with grease and he had been clouded with a foul odor. His poor little toes had been almost blue. If something wasn’t done, and soon, he’d be at risk for frostbite.

“Let me do some checking around,” Rich said. “He transferred here from Bozeman. I’ll give his previous school a call and see if they can share anything. I’ll also poke around a bit and see if I can learn more about his home situation. You might try and ask him about it too.”

“Okay. I doubt he’ll tell me but it’s worth a try.”

“Let’s start documenting all of this. Can you jot down some notes and email them to me? We’ll want dates and specific examples in case we need to involve Child Protective Services.”

“Yes. Absolutely. I’ll do that this afternoon when the kids leave. Is there anything else we can do? What about his shoes?” I asked.

“Unfortunately, there’s not much you can do.”

“What if he doesn’t have any warm shoes? Could I buy him some?”

“I’d be careful. Your offer is very generous and I’m not saying that you can’t, but there’s a fine line between getting your students gifts and providing things that parents and guardians should be responsible for. Especially if you are buying for only one child,” he said.

“Understood. It’s just heartbreaking. How long will it take for the authorities to get involved if there is some type of abuse or neglect happening at home?”

“Depending on the severity of the situation, it could be months. Let’s concentrate on building a thorough file, and when it’s enough, we can contact social services. But even after we involve them, this could be a lengthy process. Unless we can irrefutably prove that Mason is in immediate danger, he’ll likely stay where he is for a while.”

“That’s not okay. Not if he is being neglected.”

“I agree. It shouldn’t take that long. But, right now, the most important thing for you to do is to keep Mason safe while he is here. Be there for him in case he does decide to talk. Provide him with a safe learning environment.”

I nodded and sagged in my chair. I felt hopeless and helpless. Going above and beyond for Mason while he was in school was good advice. But what about when he wasn’t with me? Who would take care of him then? Because whoever was supposed to be doing that job was clearly shirking their duties.

“Have faith, Emmeline. As a teacher, you can do a lot to change a child’s future. It just might not happen overnight.”

“Thank you. I appreciate your time.”

“You are most welcome.” He relaxed into his chair. “Are you looking forward to Thanksgiving next week? Do you have plans with family or friends?”

“No major plans this year. I think I’ll just lay low and get caught up on some house work.” As if Mason Carpenter’s situation weren’t depressing enough to talk about, discussing my holiday plans was sure to put me in a somber mood. This year I would be alone. No Thanksgiving Chinese takeout feast with Logan. My plans included a Netflix binge while working my way through two pizzas and a gallon of ice cream.

“You are welcome to join me and my family. We always have plenty of food and my wife would love nothing more than to tell you embarrassing stories about me,” he offered.

“Thank you, Rich. That is so nice of you. I’ll keep it in mind.”

I’d almost made it to the door when a thought crossed my mind. “Do teachers typically buy holiday gifts for their students?”

“Most do. Why?”

“I was just curious. I was thinking of getting them all something but didn’t want to be the only teacher who bought gifts,” I said.

“Whatever you’d like to do for them, I am sure they would love it.”

Rushing back to my classroom, I mentally rearranged my lesson plan for tomorrow. And tonight I was going to brainstorm a new art activity where somehow I would learn each kid’s shoe size.

If getting Mason Carpenter a new pair of shoes meant that every one of my students got a new pair, fine by me.

A week later, all of my students were opening their holiday gifts.

“Are these for me?” Mason whispered.

While all of the other kids were shouting wildly and showing each other their new tennis shoes, I knelt next to Mason, who was staring at his with wide eyes.

Thanksgiving was tomorrow, so today school was only going until noon. I was sure that once all the kids made it home, my afternoon would be spent listening to numerous messages from parents concerned about my extravagant gift.

But I didn’t care. As long as Mason Carpenter had something warm to put on his feet, I’d take whatever flak got thrown my way.

“Do you like them?” I asked.

He nodded and, for the first time ever, looked me in the eyes. His beautiful, big brown eyes were filled with tears of joy.

“Do you not have any other shoes, Mason?”

He looked down and shook his head.

“Then I guess it’s a good thing that the Thanksgiving shoe pixies stopped by today.”

A small grin spread on Mason’s face, revealing a dimple on his left cheek. No matter what I had to do, I was going to make it my mission in life to see that adorable dimple every day.

“You’ve reached Logan Kendrick. Please leave a message.”

“Logan. It’s me again. Please call me back.” I was driving home for Thanksgiving break. It had been over two and a half weeks since I had told Logan I was still married, the same night I had kissed Nick, and I hadn’t talked to either man since.

When Nick had dropped me off that night, I’d asked him to give me some space. He’d immediately rejected my plea, but after I’d begged him to give me time to process everything, he’d reluctantly agreed.

Though, my time was coming to an end. Before driving away, he’d declared, “You’ve got until Thanksgiving to get your head together. I am not letting you go, but I’ll give you some time.”

It wasn’t for a lack of trying that I hadn’t spoken to Logan. I had called him every day but he hadn’t answered my calls. We had become so distant these last few months, we hadn’t even made holiday plans. I was tempted to charter a jet back to New York so I could see him on Thanksgiving tomorrow and we could talk face-to-face.

Could our relationship be repaired? The guilt I felt for kissing Nick was crushing and I would never be able to keep it a secret. But if I told Logan about it, that would be the end. He would never forgive me for kissing another man.

And though it was heartbreaking to think of my life without Logan, I wouldn’t blame him. This was all my fault.

I pulled into my driveway, which was currently occupied by a large, black Cadillac SUV parked by the garage. The driver’s door opened and a tall man stepped out, wearing a black wool dress coat and jeans.

Logan.

I had no idea what he was doing in Montana but it didn’t matter. Whatever his reasons, I was just glad to see him.

Jumping out of the Jeep, I walked right to him and wrapped my arms around his waist, burrowing my head into his chest.

I held my breath, waiting for his reaction, hoping he wouldn’t push me away.

When his arms closed tightly around my shoulders and his cheek dropped to my head, the air rushed out of my lungs.

“I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” he said, kissing my hair.

“Are you here to break up with me?”

He chuckled. “I wasn’t planning on it.”

“Good,” I said, squeezing him tighter.

I took a few deep breaths, inhaling his Armani cologne, before pulling away. Logan always smelled good.

Nick smells better.

That unwelcome comparison ran right through my mind without control. Silently scolding myself, I looked into Logan’s brown eyes. My brain unwillingly conjured up the image of Nick’s vibrant hazel ones.

Nick’s eyes are better too.

What was wrong with me? Why was I standing here with my amazingly handsome boyfriend thinking about Nick Slater?

Because I was bat-shit crazy. That’s why.

“You okay?” Logan asked.

“What? Oh. Yes. I think I’m still in shock that you’re actually here,” I lied.

“Sorry. I should have called, but I just needed some time. I’m tired of having phone conversations.”

“Me too. We need to talk.”

“We do, but not this second. I was thinking we could barricade ourselves in your house and camp out in the bedroom. We can talk in there, among other things.” He grinned.

“I like that plan. But we’re going to need provisions. Otherwise, we’ll starve to death. All I have left in the house is Diet Coke and a half-eaten bag of Swedish Fish.”

“Is there a Chinese place in town where we could get some takeout for Thanksgiving tomorrow?” he asked.

A huge smile took over my face. I’d been terribly depressed, thinking of spending my first Prescott holiday alone. But now with Logan here, it would be like normal. “You’re in luck, darling. Along with one take-n-bake pizza place, there are exactly four restaurants in Prescott, one of which is Peking Garden Chinese.”

“Excellent. Show me this town of yours, sweetheart. Get us our Thanksgiving feast.”

Five minutes later, we were driving the Jeep into town. “When do you have to go back?”

“Friday evening,” he said.

“Right.” I frowned. That meant we weren’t going to get all weekend together. Instead, we’d have less than forty-eight hours.

“I’m behind as it is, Emmeline. Taking a couple of days off right now isn’t helping. I’m just hoping if I check in today and work for a couple hours tomorrow, I won’t go home to a disaster.”

It hadn’t been my idea for him to fly out here. If this was such an inconvenient trip, why had he even bothered to come? We could have talked on the phone. Was he here to make me feel guilty for two days? Because I didn’t need his help for that.

I kept my eyes on the road and bit my lip. I didn’t want to get into an argument with Logan twenty minutes into his visit.

“I thought it would be prettier. Greener maybe,” Logan said.

“What do you mean?”

“Montana. I thought it would be prettier. Everything is brown.”

“Are you crazy? It is pretty,” I said. “I think the contrast between the flat land down here and all of the mountains and forest around us is breathtaking. And the grass is golden because it’s winter.”

“Don’t be offended. I just had a different image in my head,” he said and looked at his phone.

I used the rest of the drive to calm down.

Why were we snapping at each other? We had never fought when I’d lived in the city. We’d been short with one another lately but I had assumed it was because we’d been adjusting to a long-distance relationship. Maybe there was more behind those calls than I had wanted to admit.

“Let’s walk around Main Street a bit,” I said. “It’s really cute and I could show you some of my favorite spots.”

I loved the quaint feel of Main Street. Maybe Logan would too. All of the stores had character. Nothing matched but everything went together. And it came together naturally, not forced like it was on so many of the Manhattan streets where I had once lived.

The window displays weren’t professionally designed. The signs weren’t expertly coordinated. Prescott wasn’t fancy or elaborate, but it had real charm. Its allure was in the people who took pride in their work and town.

Logan held my hand as we strolled down the street. I occasionally pointed out different stores that I liked, but instead of finding anything positive about them, he made a few comments about the plethora of Western apparel and the abundance of horseshoes.

I brushed off his remarks and kept walking, hoping he wasn’t going to be so judgmental during his entire visit.

As we passed the sporting goods store, I caught a glimpse of our reflection in the glass door and laughed.

“What?” Logan asked.

“We look out of place. I’m still dressed up from school. You’re perfectly styled as always. The only thing about us that goes with Prescott is your jeans.”

“That’s because we are out of place, Emmeline.”

My laughter stopped immediately at the sight of his serious face. “It was a joke, Logan. Why are you acting like this?”

“Your joke wasn’t funny and I’m acting like I always do. I apologize for not being overjoyed to spend Thanksgiving in Montana, walking around a little town with my girlfriend, who has somehow convinced herself that she fits in here.”

“Then why did you come?” I asked, stopping on the sidewalk.

“Because we need to have a conversation about your marriage. I’ve got a conference call scheduled with Andrews on Friday morning before I leave. I need to be better informed about what he’s doing but he won’t discuss the divorce proceedings with me unless you are present.”

“Logan, tell me you didn’t go around me to Fred Andrews. Not after I told you I was getting it taken care of.”

“You had nine years to get it taken care of and you didn’t. So yes, I went around you.”

“Why?” I asked.

“Why? Maybe because I had hoped someday you would be my wife. That the ring I’ve tried to give you twice now might actually go on your finger.”

My anger was immediately replaced with guilt.

Shit.

I had been so consumed with getting an explanation from Nick, I hadn’t taken enough action for Logan. When I found myself living in the same town as my lost husband, I should have immediately gotten my ass back to New York, explained everything to Logan and then personally picked up my divorce papers. Instead, I had spent a week going out on dates with Nick and then made out with him, plastered against a wall in his house.

I was not a good girlfriend.

Just as I was opening my mouth to apologize, a familiar voice rumbled from behind me.

“Not happening, pal. She’s mine.”

“This is not happening,” I muttered and turned around to face Nick. “Stay out of this, Nick.”

“No,” he said.

“The husband, I presume?” Logan stepped into the space beside me and threw his arm around my shoulders, his whole frame rigid.

“Yeah. And since I’m her husband, how about you get your fucking hands off her?”

“I’ll touch her whenever I please. I have for the last five years.”

“Enough!” I said, ending this ridiculous macho man show before it got carried away. “The only person that gets to decide who touches me and when, is me. Stop acting like Neanderthals.”

“Time to go, Emmeline,” Logan declared and grabbed my hand, pulling me behind him as we marched back to the Jeep.

The sound of boots thudded on the pavement behind us. I slipped my hand free from Logan and spun around, again facing Nick.

I was desperate for him to leave me be. The last thing I wanted was for Nick to mention that we had kissed. That was my story to tell Logan, on my terms, but Nick’s eyes were determined. He was going to do whatever it took to keep me apart from Logan.

“Stop,” I whispered. “Let me go.”

“Never.” His face gentled and he looked down at me with his own desperation. “Emmy, don’t do this. Don’t stay with him just because you’re still holding onto the idea that life will go back to how it was. Everything has changed. Be honest with yourself, and with him. We’re it for each other. You walked back into my life and I won’t leave you again. And deep down, you don’t want me to let you go.”

“Emmeline,” Logan called.

I choked down the lump in my throat and blinked away my tears. “Coming.”

The drive home was silent, but the moment I parked in the driveway, Logan reached for my hand.

“You love him.” He wasn’t angry and yelling. He sounded defeated and sad.

I shook my head. “No. But I did once.”

“It’s still there, sweetheart,” Logan said, stroking the back of my hand with his thumb.

I wanted to protest but I couldn’t. I was too confused about my feelings for Nick. In one night, I had fallen in love with him. I thought that years of anger and hatred had erased all of that love. But spending time with him, kissing him, had brought it all back. Only, the hatred was still there too. How could I get rid of one without the other?

“When you walked away from him, I’ve never seen pain like that on your face before. Not even when your father was at his worst. I want to be the man to take it from you, Emmeline, to carry that pain so you can live a life of happiness. But it’s never going to be me.”

“What? What are you saying, Logan?” I asked.

“I never even stood a chance. Nothing I can ever do will be enough. He’ll always have that piece of you.”

I shook my head. “You’re reading too much into this. He just upset me. And you and I had been arguing. There was a lot of emotion flying around. Let’s just forget it and have a nice Thanksgiving together. Please?”

“He calls you Emmy.”

“He always has. What does that matter?”

“When we first met, I called you Emmy once. You corrected me and said you hated that nickname. But that wasn’t true. You didn’t want me to call you Emmy because it was already his.”

He was right. There were things I wouldn’t give him because Nick had been there first. I’d convinced myself I hated nicknames and kisses on the tip of my nose. I didn’t, really, but I’d told myself I did. Because it hurt too much to be reminded of Nick.

He had been right.

Everything had changed.

Living in Montana had shed light on the problems Logan and I’d had before Nick had ever gotten thrown into the mix. Logan and I wanted different lifestyles. I had found a home in Montana and he loved New York. I was happier living a quieter life while he thrived on busy workdays and a hectic social calendar.

“It’s not just Nick, is it?” I whispered. “It’s me here. You there. I’m not coming back. And you’ll never leave.”

“No. It’s not just him.”

We sat in silence for a few moments until Logan spoke. “I think I had better change my answer to your previous question. I believe I am here to break up with you.”

I knew it was coming but that didn’t make it any less painful to hear. My breath hitched and I struggled to get it back.

When I twisted my neck to look into his eyes, the ache in my chest grew so fierce I feared my heart would stop beating. “I’m so sorry, Logan.”

“Me too.” Reaching across the console, he cupped the back of my head and pulled me in for a kiss.

I let our good-bye kiss convey all of the things I didn’t say. That I was grateful for every moment we’d had together. That I would never be able to thank him enough for all the wonderful things he had done for me these past five years. That I would always remember him and care for him deeply.

“Be happy,” he said, then climbed out of my Jeep and got in his SUV, backing out of my driveway and out of my life.

When he was no longer in my rearview mirror, I collapsed into the steering wheel with body-wrenching sobs.