reason shit like duels was invented. You should be praying for the guys, or gals, or whatever she’s into. Because there’s probably a pack of them she’s already laid waste to in her wake. They’re the ones who need your prayers.”
“Now I think I need sedation,” she said, finishing making her way to him.
“Sorry, I only got coffee.”
She grinned and stopped at the island.
The dogs fanned out all around her, hoping she’d collapse on the floor and play.
Instead, she looked to his laptop and a hint of worry shadowed her face.
“Do you need to work?”
There was no denying it.
All that was happening, he was getting behind.
Gen in his house for the first time, there because she was ready to talk things through, no way in fuck he was working.
“No.”
She nodded, biting her lip.
She started to say something, but he asked, “You wanna meet the horses?”
“I want to meet the horses and see the chickens, but Bowie, maybe we should talk.”
He closed his laptop, kept his hand on it, rested his weight in his other hand on the counter, and queried, “Something new on your mind?”
But she was staring at his laptop.
“Genny, I don’t need to work,” he assured.
“You did that,” she told his hand.
“Sorry?”
Her eyes came to his. “Even back then when things weren’t…” she lifted a hand a circled it, “heavy, like they are now. If something was on my mind, you dropped everything. And listened.”
“Genny,” he said softly.
She drew in breath and let it out, saying, “I’ve had my coffee. I try to keep it at two cups, only in the morning. But I can hang if you want to make another cup and maybe we can go on the back porch and chat?”
He was a coffee fiend. Always had been. Drank it all day. Caffeine didn’t affect him, or his sleep.
She knew that, but even if she didn’t remember, it didn’t matter.
It was time.
And he’d pushed for this.
But he was fucking dreading it.
He refreshed his cup. Led the way to the back porch.
Genny came with him.
She settled in an Adirondack chair that was angled to the lake.
He settled in standing and leaning against a roof post, facing her.
She didn’t look at his view.
Her gaze was glued to him.
It was time to do this.
Then face the consequences.
“I’ll start,” he said.
“Please do,” she replied quietly.
“I never felt good enough for you.”
Pain slashed through her features and it took all he had to stay where he was.
But she whispered, “I know.”
“It wasn’t you.”
“I know.”
“It was my dad.”
She nodded.
“And Corey played us both.”
She nodded again.
“I let him because that was where my head was at. Yesterday, I realized, there was a part of me that nagged day in and day out since it happened that I knew to my soul you didn’t step out on me. But I jumped on that excuse to let you go because I had to. Because I needed to set you free for you. But also, for me, because I had something to prove.”
She rolled her head on her shoulders. Pressed her lips together.
But said nothing.
“To Dad and to myself.”
She finally spoke.
Softly.
And it was a statement.
Not a question.
“But not me.”
“Not you,” he confirmed.
She got up and he had no idea what she’d do after he confessed that.
Confessed the rotten truth that it wasn’t really Corey being a slimeball.
It was Duncan.
And in his head, her knowing that without doubt, even more than she had to know it before, he thought was worse.
She was too classy to just take off.
But with whatever goodbye she gave him, he had to stand there and take it.
And then let her walk into his house, get her bag, only to walk out of it, get in her car and leave.
He felt sick to his stomach.
But for her, he could not move.
So he didn’t.
She stood for long moments, studying him.
Then she looked to the lake.
To his dogs who were pressing against the windows with their noses.
And back to Duncan.
She then walked to him and lifted her hands.
She didn’t shove him into the post in fury.
She set them on his chest and pressed.
He held his breath.
Up.
And she pressed against his shoulders.
Up.
And she curled them around the sides of his neck.
Up.
And she cupped his jaw.
She watched her hands as they did this.
He watched her.
Not breathing.
Then she took her hands from his face, slid her arms around his middle, and fitted herself to his front, resting her cheek to his chest.
He let his breath go and closed eyes that were suddenly stinging.
“I couldn’t have helped,” she