I push open the front door of the only bank in Hartford and all the air leaves my lungs. My muscles seize with one Lucchese boot planted inside and the other on the hot sidewalk. Stiffly, I step outside, set my tan Stetson on my head, and run my palms down the side of my work pants. I squint and wait for my eyes to adjust to the bright midday sun. I want to be sure I’m not mistaken. Or is my mind playing cruel tricks on me? Just yards from me, parked in a sky blue Chevy Cruze on the other side of the street, is the one person I never thought I’d see again.

Lila Clark.

It’s been years since I laid eyes on her. Five years and some months. I didn’t realize I was keeping track, but now that she’s back, I must’ve been subconsciously counting the hours since she disappeared from my life. She was gone without a trace. She left a gaping hole in my heart that nothing and no one has been able to fill. Still, seeing Lila now, it almost feels like no time has passed at all.

It has to be her. She hasn’t changed a bit. From her long, wavy chestnut hair, her stunning heart-shaped face, big brown doe eyes, to her tempting Cupid’s bow lips that I wish I’d kissed a thousand times. Those legs that go on forever, and her soft, subtle curves I’ve fantasized about claiming for myself more times than I care to admit.

But I didn’t.

There were so many chances to let her know I wanted to be more than friends, so many opportunities to make her mine. But I blew it. One of the biggest mistakes I made was thinking I had all the time in the world. I figured she’d be around. I assumed she was the one for me and that fate would take care of the rest.

Had I known that the night of the big end-of-year house party was going to be the last time I’d see her, I definitely would’ve done things differently. There wouldn’t have been alcohol in my system, for starters. I knocked back so many beers and shots that night that I lost track of how many I ingested. My head wasn’t clear. Far from it.

More of my time that night would’ve been devoted to Lila, not my football buddies. Before getting drunk I had noticed her nearby. She was hanging out by the punch bowl or chatting with other girls, making small talk, moving to the loud music when a song she liked came on. She would look my way every so often. At one point during the party, those piercing eyes of hers had met mine across the room and, like all the times before, my heart had tightened in my chest. It was as though no one was in that crowded room but the two of us. She meant so much to me and all I had to do was say something.

But I was so drunk. Too drunk to think, let alone talk. Way too drunk to walk a straight line, much less to walk up to her and take her in my arms like I’d been fixing to do. That was the reason I had stumbled up to the second floor. I just needed to close my eyes for a few minutes, an hour maybe. But that other girl with the plastic smile must’ve followed me upstairs.

Melinda Atkins. This girl had been after me all through our final year and had kept up the chase even after I told her I wasn’t interested. She had me cornered in the bedroom that night, and probably decided this was her chance to follow through on all her blatant hints, overt flirting and obvious desperation to make me her next trophy.

If I’d been sober, there would have been no way I would have let Melinda get near me. But I was so inebriated. Before I could stop her, she moved like lightning and managed to undo the zipper of my jeans and pull open a few buttons of my shirt. It was only after I gave her a firm shove to push her away from me that Melinda finally got the hint and left.

Then Lila came to me.

She saved me from myself yet again.

I don’t remember what I said to her, but whatever it was, it turned out to be all the wrong things. If I’d been more clear-headed, I’d have a clue what I said. Maybe I could’ve told her I was sorry, made peace, found out what was on her mind, did something, anything so she wouldn’t have upped and left me. Maybe then the last five years wouldn’t have been spent without her. Instead, Lila helped me leave the party, dropped me home, and I never saw her again.

Until now.

A slew of questions that have plagued my mind from the day she left town rises to the surface. Why did she leave Hartford? How come she never said goodbye? What exactly did I say or do to cause her to pull away from me? The girl was my best friend. I could tell her everything. At the time, I believed our friendship was a two-way street. But she left.

Over the years, I started to doubt myself and question everything about us. If she considered me to be a friend, she’d have told me she was leaving. She’d have kept in touch. She’d have been there for me when my father took ill, even as a voice on the other end of the phone. And I’d have been there for her, at her side, in her life for whatever she’s been through all these years. She’d know that I decided against going to college to help keep the family ranch going. She’d reach out to me and be a shoulder when my father passed. She’d have all the right things to say after Mom died. She’d help me find some peace in knowing that Mom was so brokenhearted about Dad’s death that she followed the love of her life to the grave.

If what we had was real, Lila would be in my life right now.

But she isn’t.

And I have no one to blame but myself.

Back then, I was about to take our friendship to the next level. I came so close to laying it all on the line. So close I could almost taste her.

Almost.

But she was here one day, gone the next, and that was that.

I’ve thought of trying to track her down. Her cell number stopped working right after she went away, so I left a few messages on her old house phone number, hoping she’d call back. The voice recording in the answering machine back then was still the Clark family residence. I added my name and cell number each time, and waited for a call back.

That never happened.

If life hadn’t thrown my family for a loop with my father’s sudden illness, then his passing, then my mother’s, I probably would’ve tried harder.

Over the years, the time for questions passed. I had to put Lila out of my mind when I took over the ranch. Since then, I’ve been running the place on my own. It’s been grueling days and long, lonely nights, but I have no regrets about shouldering the responsibility for the business. It’s been tough, ensuring that all my father’s workers can hold on to their jobs. Overall, the rewards of persevering with the ranch have kept me going during the tough years as well as the couple of good ones.

Like this year. The ranch has turned a profit for the last three quarters and my head guy is taking over more of the day-to-day demands of the business. I finally have a little breathing room to think about the future of the ranch, which is the reason I agreed to come into town to meet the bank manager today. He’s been on my case for months about investing the extra funds sitting in my account so I can earn some interest.

I guess I owe him for hounding me to pay him a visit in the middle of the day instead of herding cattle on the range, dealing with suppliers over email, or negotiating with buyers on the phone.

And now I’m here. My eyes are on Lila Clark for the first time in all these years.

She’s back.

It must be her first day in town since she left. I would know. News travels fast in these parts. Our high school friends would be sure to fill me in if I weren’t witnessing her return for myself.

Her timing couldn’t be better. My mind is clear. My ranch is no longer a source of constant backbreaking work or worry. I’m not as broken up about the fact that my parents are gone. And my questions are all back, waiting to be answered by the one person who can give me an explanation.

I stride toward the parked Chevy Cruze as she sits in the driver seat. Her eyes are glued to her phone, her fingers tapping away on the tiny keyboard at the bottom of the screen. The woman of my dreams hasn’t caught a glimpse of me yet, but she will.

Because one thing’s for sure.

I won’t let Lila Clark slip away from me again.

Not without a fight.