Page 40 of It's Not Home Without You

“Oh.” The words were physically painful to get out.

Max was reallyover me, wasn’t he? He would marry Abigail and build their home atop the remains of my own. That’s why he was so nice to me,why it wasn’t an effort for him to be a gentleman with me because I didn’t matter. He wasn’t angry about what I did because he was over me. He was over me and I… I wasn’t over him. How many years did I spend running from what I felt, telling myself the exactsame thing he saidto me? We were children who didn’t know better. But I wasn’t a child anymore, and I knew deep in my bones I had never stopped loving him. I might have left this town seven years ago, but my heart stayed with him.

“I’ll pay for whatever damages. Just tell me how much, and I’ll write you a check,” I whispered. I couldn’t look at him because I still cared, and I didn’t want him to see how much he was hurting me. When I pulled my hand from his grasp, he let me go without hesitation.

“That’s unnecessary. I don’t need your money.”

It was the wrong thing to say to meat the moment. I was too raw, too exposed. I was feeling too much.

“Don’t worry, I’m more than good for it. I don’t want your fiancée and in-laws saying you had to take pity ontrailer trash girl.” I couldn’t look up at him. I didn’t want to see what was behind those green eyes I used to love so much. Instead, I ran out. I ran because I was good at it. I was so good at trying to outrun my past; it was comfortable living in limbo.

Good things fall apart, so better things could come together. Well, what happened when the best thing you ever had fell apart? What came after that? Because I wanted to believe that I had something waiting for me; there had to be more for me than being the girl who got abandoned.

“Freya,” I heard Max call out, but I didn’t stop. I didn’t want him to see me, not when all those broken pieces of me were out in the open. Not when a wound I thought had healed was bleeding, and his name wanted to leave my lips like a prayer. Some things were better off unsaid, and I had learned that lesson the hard way.

Maximilian Dunnett was the love of my life, but I was not the love of his life. Coming home was the biggest mistake I had ever made, because at least in San Francisco I was okay. Ashton cheated on me, but he never got close enough to break me because I never gave him all of me because all my pieces were broken, and I had never bothered toput them back together.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

A lot could happenover one night, and I did meana lot. I couldn’t believe I was willingly walking into Max’s office. This was not what I wanted to do first thing in the morning, but after I talked to my grandpa and begged him to move, to which he refused, I knew I needed to get us out of this mess. The land held sentimental value to my grandfather, and for him, I would beg to have it back. I justwished my grandpa would tell me why he sold itin the first place.

For a quick second, my hand wavered at the door. The shiny gold letters that read Maximilian Dunnett made me pause. He had achieved everything he had wanted, and for once my decision to leave didn’t sting as bad.

“Please go in. Mr. Dunnett will be here shortly.” I smiled at the older lady who pointed me toward Max’s office. She shouldn’t have left me alone. I would use the opportunity to snoop.

Max had several pictures hung, but none of themfrom around the time we were together. If what he wanted was to pretend like we never happened, he had done an excellent job.

My heel was tapping furiously on the floor, trying to synchronize to the beat of my heart. The pink stilettos matched my dusty pink lips; meanwhile, my black dress wasn’t revealing, but it clung to my every curve.

I looked good.

“There is someone in your office, Mr. Dunnett.”

“Thanks, Sandy.”

As soon as I heard his voice, my blood pressure rose. The room felt smaller. I really didn’t think this through. I should have stayed home and sent him a letter; that would have been wise.

Too late now.

When he walked in, he froze by the door. He did a slow blink, probably thinking the same thing I was.What the fuck am I doing here?

“Good morning, Mr. Dunnett.” I smiled at him. God, what was wrong with me? I was here on friendly terms, not to taunt him, but a part of me couldn’t resist. His hair still gleamed from his morning shower. I wanted to lean in and smell his bodywash and run my tongue along his neck. I needed to get my shit together before I did something I would regret. I crossed my legs, trying to put myself at ease.

Max’s eyes followed my movement, those green eyes going darker.

Was I affecting him as much as he was affecting me? Motioning to his desk, I said, “Please, have a seat.”

The slight tick of his jaw made me want to smile. When he walked to his chair, he moved agile like a cat. Instead of being scared, it thrilled me. “You dorealize you’re in my office, sweetheart?”

He did not just call me sweetheart.But he had, and the room was getting smaller; it was also burning up. I cleared my throat because I needed to regain control of the situation.And my vagina.

“Hard to miss with all thephotosof you.” Was I crazy jealous because he didn’t have a photo of me? Hell to the yeah, but he could have had a picture of him from our time together.

He seemed to get the dig, but that wasn’t surprising. Max knew me, all of me. He leaned back in his chair and looked at me like a hunter would his prey. “Is there a reason you are here, Miss Pratt?”

“You know why I’m here.”

“Contrary to popular belief, I don’t follow your every move.”

---