Page 48 of Endless Southern Love

I look at her.

“Don’t hurt me.”

Tears rush to my eyes. If she wasn’t at work or didn’t work in a school, I’d go to her right now and hold her in my arms. I never meant to hurt her to begin with. I was young, stupid, and did something that changed the trajectory of our lives. It was never my intent, but when the love of your life tells you they don’t want to be with you anymore, you tend to do shit you may or may not regret later. I wish I had given Lemon more time before I allowed myself to do what I did.

“Hurting you is something I never ever want to do again, Lemon.”

With those words, I leave her office. Instead of heading to my truck, I go toward Goldie’s classroom and make sure she’s made it back. I’m going to have to buy her a dog after this because she single-handedly showed me the one thing that was missing in my quest to get Lemon back . . . how she’d act with my daughter now that she knows the truth.

eighteen

lemon

Even though I showered in the morning, I take another one when I get home from work. I let my hair air dry and then I spend an hour straightening it, adding product, and then curling it because I’m nervous.

I shouldn’t be anxious. My heart shouldn’t be pounding like crazy with anticipation of Wade coming over. He’s been here once before, albeit he showed up randomly, asking for closure.

Closure . . . is that what I want? Maybe or maybe, I want to find a way to move past all of this and be friends?

Friends . . . I’m not sure I can be friends with Wade. I love him and have been in love with him most of my life. Being his friend almost feels like a slap across my face. Not only for me, but for him as well. Which makes me wonder if I need to move away so both of us can have a healthy relationship with someone else.

Do I want to be with someone else? No, I don’t. I could’ve started dating many moons ago, but I chose not to. I’ve had every excuse in the book to avoid dating. Too busy, focused on my career, not enough time in the day . . . the list goes on and on. Yet, each excuse I came up with was never valid or ever truthful. I longed for Wade which is how I ended up back in Magnolia Grove. I could’ve easily applied for hundreds of other jobs, but I wanted to be here, where he was and where all our memories were.

He said he would come over after Marigold—I mean Goldie—went to bed. When I saw her get hurt, something inside of me changed. While I love all my students, the urge to protect her came out of nowhere. I know it’s my duty to keep all the children safe, but it’s like a flip had been switched, and Goldie needed me the most.

When she asked me to call her Goldie, I think my knees went weak. I’ve been determined to keep her at arm’s length, the keep the wall up, but she’s slowly taking it down. Between her and her father, it’s going to crumble fast.

I’m not sure if I’m ready though. There’s a niggling voice in the back of my head, telling me to proceed with caution, that not everything is right in the world. Leslie would tell me it’s all in my head, that I’m looking for anything to put the kibosh on rekindling a relationship with Wade. She’s partly right.

After changing my clothes ten or fifteen times, I finally settle on a pair of sweats and a tank top because I don’t want Wade to think I’ve dressed up for him. He needs to see me uncaring about him coming over. Besides this is what I’d put on when I get home from work, and the hour I spent on my hair is down the drain because I’ve put it up on a messy bun.

I do, however, open a bottle of wine. I need the liquid courage to calm my nerves. After last night in his truck, my nerves are on overdrive and I’m afraid I’m going to jump him the minute he walks through my door, which would be very unladylike, but very much a Lemon move. The man drives me wild, and he knows it.

I’ve barely taken a sip of my wine when there’s a knock at my door. The glass is poised at my lips for another swallow and while downing the contents seems like a smart thing to do, I don’t do it and set the glass down.

With every step I take toward the door, my heart races faster. My entire life could change when I open this door and invite him in.

Am I ready?

It’s a question I ask but have no answer for. I’ve spent years telling myself I’d never ever give Wade the time of day again, and yet, I jumped his bones the first chance I could. I blame the nostalgia of being in his truck, the rain, and the fact that I haven’t had sex with anyone since I stupidly told him I wanted a break.

My hand grips the doorknob. I twist it slowly. My heart and mind do battle on whether this is a good thing or not. I finally open the door and my breathing hitches because fuck me sideways, Wade Jenkins does not disappoint.

He stands there, with his ratty, worn-out ball cap that is somehow ridiculously sexy, dressed in jeans and a white T-shirt, which fits him just right, highlighting his well-toned pecs and contrasting with his tanned skin. This man likes to mow the lawn shirtless. I know because I’ve ogled him from my window one too many times to count. The sleeves of his shirt are rolled, stopping above his bulging bicep. He leans against the doorjamb, with his ankles crossed, and the perfect crooked smile on his face.

I swallow hard and push down every naughty thought I have about me ripping his clothes off and screwing him on every surface of my apartment. Hell, I’m not even sure my kitchen table is sturdy enough for what my mind would like to do to Wade.

In his hand, a single red rose. My fingers itch to take it from him, to bring it to my nose and inhale the sweet scent, but I’m frozen.

“Can I come in?”

I shake my head. “I’m not sure this is a good idea.”

“I’ll be good. I promise.”

He can promise all he wants because I’m not sure he’s the problem. I am. He stands, extends his hand with the rose, and I’m afraid he’s about to leave so I step back and let him in. Once he’s passed the threshold, I close the door and lock it, which is unheard of in Magnolia Grove. However, I wouldn’t put it past the town gossips to see his truck in the parking lot and come on up to my apartment to see what’s what.

With Wade standing in my living room, my two-bedroom apartment feels much smaller than it is. He’s larger than life, always has been, but has never overshadowed me. It’s funny how I can remember these amazing details about Wade, and yet have trouble getting over the break I asked for.

---