Page 7 of The Finish Line

She hangs her head as if she feels the conflict in me, although I don’t flinch. “I don’t want to fight, Tobias.”

“Since when are you so fucking afraid of confrontation?”

“I’m not afraid.” She rips through the thick plastic easily, a very, very angry gardener. “I just don’t have anything to say to you right now.”

“How many lies are we going to start with?”

Her dark blue eyes ice over. “I made a life here. Temporary as it may be, I’m not leaving it for you. Not again.”

“Well, I can see why. You’re on the fast track to one exciting life. Hot yoga? The Chamber of Commerce?” I fist my hands at my sides. This is an argument for a different time.

“Of course, you went snooping. Isn’t that just like you to come in and invade my privacy after years apart.”

“You knew who you were falling for.”

“Doesn’t mean I wanted to.”

“Time and separation don’t matter when it comes to us. That’s clear now.”

“But it does. It does matter. It matters to me. I know I agreed to try, but what exactly are you thinking will happen? That I’ll just fall back into place, no questions asked, legs spread, heart wide open? I’m not that girl anymore, Tobias, and I’m no longer that woman, either.”

“This is you we’re talking about, so I fucking know better. If you weren’t capable of being that woman anymore, the one who forgives and loves the way only you can, I wouldn’t have slept in your bed last night. As far as plans go, I don’t know because we haven’t talked yet the way we need to, or made a single fucking plan, together. We’re now in negotiations. What. Was. The. Fucking. Dream?”

“What else would it be?”

“I’m not leaving you. Not today, not tomorrow, and not the day after. Hell will freeze over. I’ll eat a McRib first.”

Wrong thing to say.

“You think this is funny?” She glares at me, covered in soil, her eyes gleaming with accusation and residual anger.

“I think a sense of humor may make this a lot less bloody, but it’s clear by the look on your face you don’t share that opinion.”

“You lived with her.” The admission is just above a whisper.

“You dreamt about Alicia?”

“She knew you. You let her know you. She knew your brand of toothpaste. She probably picked out your fucking ties in the morning. Things you let her know.”

“Don’t—” I shake my head, hating the direction this is going— “don’t do that.”

“You threw me away, but you lived with her. I never even got to see where you lived.”

“Yes, you did. You saw the only place I ever considered home. The shithole my aunt owned at the edge of town. That was the only home I knew in Triple Falls. The rest were just places to rest my head between business trips. I haven’t had a real home since my parents died, and I didn’t live with her.”

“She made it seem like you did.”

“And I let you think that.”

“Of course, you did.” She lets out an exasperated laugh.

I can’t help the bitter edge with my delivery. “Glass houses, Cecelia. Need I remind you that you were wearing a fucking two-carat engagement rock when you drove back to Triple after leaving your live-in fiancé? Or is he still an afterthought?”

Chill, Tobias. Right fucking now.

I close my eyes, dreading seeing the evidence of that cutting comment.

“How dare you,” she croaks, her voice barely audible. “So, it’s my fault? I had to move on. It’s not like you gave me a choice.”

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