“You’re right, it’s not. Because I don’t work for you anymore. So whatever you have going with Felix, you’re just going to have to clean up the mess yourself.”
“You want to see me go to prison?” he spat. “Is that it? After everything I’ve done for you?”
“Of course not. But if you do, it won’t be my fault. I’ve been trying to keep you out of trouble for years.” Her voice started to break. “I’m not doing it anymore.”
She jammed her finger on the screen to end the call.
I stood there, staring at her, unable to move. I wanted to kick her dad in the teeth. Or gather her in my arms and hold her.
Maybe both.
She turned to look at me, her eyes filling with tears. She was on the verge of breaking, of falling apart right here in my shop.
I could have swooped in. Wrapped her in my arms and held her together.
But I didn’t. Like an idiot, I hesitated, and a heartbeat later, the moment was gone.
Straightening her spine, she sniffed and wiped beneath her eyes. Without a word, she walked out.
Fuck.
A few minutes later, she came out of my house with her backpack hanging from one shoulder, her houseplants tucked under each arm. I watched, helplessly—stupidly—while she packed up her car.
Only half aware that I was moving, I went outside. She stood next to her open driver’s side door.
“I’m finished, so I’ll get out of your way,” she said, her voice quavering slightly. “You’ve more than held up your end of the deal. So thank you.”
I nodded. My mouth wouldn’t move, my throat closed off. I needed to say something to her, but what? “Thanks for your help with the Pontiac.”
That was it? That’s what I was going to say?
Her bottom lip trembled. “Yeah. No problem.”
My chest constricted. God, I was so fucking angry. At her father. At Luke. Hell, even at Jill.
But mostly I was angry at myself. Angry at the feelings that thrummed through me, twisting me up inside. I’d spent years avoiding attachments to anyone because this was always what I got for my trouble. Uncertainty and pain.
Let her go, Evan. Let her go, and this will all go away.
So I did.
She got in her car. And I went inside.
18
Evan
The ache in my chest didn’t go away.
Hours passed. I worked on the Pontiac, then closed up the shop for the night. Ate dinner by myself. Answered a text from Logan, if only to make sure he didn’t decide to come out here and annoy me for not answering. Watched TV.
And I didn’t miss her.
Except that was too big of a lie to convince myself it was true. I just didn’t want to miss her.
Sasquatch wasn’t helping. My traitor dog had spent the evening moping around like a lost puppy. Now he sat curled up in the opposite corner of the couch with his ears drooping.
“Really? You’re just going to mope over there all night?”
He let out a whine.
I took a drink of my beer. “She was here for what, eight days? You got that attached to her?”
His ears drooped lower.
“Yeah, I know. I kind of did too.”
It was the weirdest fucking thing. She’d crash-landed in my life just over a week ago, and I was moping around as badly as my dog.
Pathetic.
But I deserved to feel like shit. She’d been upset, and I’d been too caught up in my own stupid feelings to do anything about it. What kind of man was I?
An idiot.
I let out a long breath. I was still confused. Why did this matter to me so much? She was upset, so what? Her shitty father wasn’t my problem.
Except that despite the fact that I’d been kind of a dick to her, we’d become friends. I was reluctant to admit it, but it was true. Those hours we’d spent on the road had forged a fast friendship.
Which meant I cared about her.
Precisely what I’d been trying to avoid.
And yet, here I was.
“Fine.” I put down my beer and grabbed my phone. “I’ll text her and see if she’s okay.”
With my thumbs poised over the screen, I hesitated. What should I say?
I heard what your dad said on the phone, and—
No. Delete.
Fiona, I wish I had—
Nope. Delete again.
I’m sorry I didn’t—
No again. Delete. What the fuck was wrong with me?
Just checking in to see if you’re okay.
There. Good enough.
Her reply came through a couple of minutes later. Yeah, I’m okay. Thanks.