“Thank you for your hospitality. I appreciate it more than you’ll ever know.”
“You’re welcome,” she says through unshed tears. “If you ever need a place to stay, you find me. Even if it’s coon-hunting season.”
I shake her hand, the lump in my throat preventing any words from coming out. She nods, understanding, as I place her palm on her lap.
“Goodbye,” I say.
“Goodbye, honey.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
TREVOR
I’m almost to the end of the driveway when a familiar truck pulls in beside me. The window rolls down, and it’s Dane staring back at me.
The look he’s giving me rips at my pride. I might as well be the dirt under his boots right now.
“Great,” I mumble. I hit the button and feel the wind fill the cab. “Hey, Dane.”
“Trevor.” He works his tongue around his cheek, as if he’s trying to decide whether to give me the speech he’s rehearsed or just rip into me off the cuff. “Are you heading out?”
“Yeah. I need to get back to the office.”
He taps a beat on his steering wheel, gazing off into the distance. He brings his hand to his mouth and runs it along his jaw as I squirm in anticipation of what’s next.
“You aren’t the guy I thought you were.”
I flinch. “What did you say?”
“I have a really good ability to pick out bad people. It’s one of the few good things I got from my father. But I’ll tell you, you had me fooled.”
“Dane . . . ,” I stammer.
“You fucked with Haley.”
“I didn’t. Not like you think.”
He grins. It’s not a gesture of friendliness or an invitation to set the record straight. It’s a warning, pure and simple. A warning I read loud and clear.
“Here’s the deal,” he says. “I don’t give a flying fuck if you did it like ‘I think’ or not. All I know is I watched you chase her, and now I’m watching you walk away.”
I sigh, looking at the road ahead and wishing I’d left a few minutes before. I don’t need this guilt trip. I’m tripping enough on my own.
He’s right. She told me up front—fuck, she practically begged me at first—not to pursue her. She took a line from my playbook and was one hundred percent clear about what she wanted. I disrespected that.
Motherfucker.
“If you leave, don’t come back.” He levels his final shot with the sobriety of a judge.
Message received.
I want to tell him how happy I am that she has him to protect her. But why would I do that? He knows how to treat his family, someone he loves. Hell, he does it better than I do.
My stomach sinks as his words pile on top of my own lamenting and Lorene’s advice. I wonder if I’ll ever be able to climb out from under it.
“Thanks for all your work on the house,” I say, trying to make some progress before I leave.
He puts his truck in drive. “Fuck you.” I get another go-to-hell smile before he hits the gas and blows dust all over my truck.
“Fuck you too,” I mutter, rolling up the window.
I crawl through Dogwood Lane. The post office’s flag blows in the breeze. Jennifer is outside Buds and Branches, washing the windows. I wave. She waves back.
I blow out a breath as I pass the road where the dog lies in the middle of the street before coming upon the café. I slow, peering in the windows as I slide by.
My body is pulled to the parking lot, desperate for some kind of positive connection to a place I’ve grown to really like. But I keep going. Because it’s all I can do. It’s all I know how to do.
I pull my phone from underneath my pillow. The screen lights up when I press the button on the side.
Nothing.
Not a call or a text or an alert that someone sent me an email.
Nada.
I roll over on my back, the room dark. Three blankets are piled on my body, and I smile as I think of what Haley would say about the temperature of the room.
She hates it cold.
She hates all the blankets.
She hates me.
If this was the right thing to do, why does it feel so wrong? Why does it feel like someone sawed my chest in half and gave a part of it away and now I’m expected to act normally even though I can’t breathe?
It’s my own fault. This was my choice.
I swipe around the screen until I find my dad’s name. It’s late, but not too