Page 15 of The Inn

SUMMER

Jameson doesn’t say anything,but he takes his hands off my shoulders. I suppose it's a good thing. I need to stop pretending that my real life doesn’t exist because it does. I don’t have a choice. I can’t drop a career I’ve worked toward my whole life because I have a crush on a rancher, albeit a smoking hot rancher.

Besides, Jamison hasn’t asked me to stay. You can’t invite yourself to become a permanent resident at someone else's house. If he did, maybe things would be different. Maybe I could find a way to make this work. But things whispered in the bedroom don’t hold up when you put your clothes back on, and his silence right now is speaking volumes.

“Okay,” is all he says.

“Wow,” Maisie’s voice is soft when she approaches us. “Is that what you were hoping for? Life in another country where you don’t speak the language?”

“Are you kidding me? Mom, they speak English in Scotland.” Dakota shakes her head.

My heart rate ticks up and my breath gets shallow. “Oh, I uh, I don’t know. I guess I was hoping for it on some level. Yes.”

“Of course, she was hoping for it. Congratulations, that’s wonderful news. She earned a new position at a job she loves. It’s wonderful, isn’t it?” Dakota widens her eyes and looks around expectantly at her family.

“Right. Yes, congrats, that’s cool. Maybe I’ll come to visit, in a kilt.” Archie flashes me a charming smile.

“Shut the hell up, Archie.” Jameson straightens. The light, airy smile that’s played on his lips for the past couple of days is gone, replaced by the gruff expression I saw when I arrived. “Congratulations, on the career of your dreams. You can get away from this small-town farm life once and for all. I think that suits you better than life here anyway, wouldn’t want you to crawl out of your skin.” His tone is flat and expressionless but it doesn’t make his words hurt any less. “It’s probably best for all of us.”

“Wait, what?” He only said them once, but somehow Jameson’s words seem to echo around in all that hollow emptiness that’s formed inside of my chest. My throat feels tight, almost like I’m choking, and not in a fun way like the other night in front of the fireplace with Jameson.

Jameson lets out an awkward, forced chuckle. “I mean, that’s a pretty big step for your career, right? I don’t know too much about writing and all that, but it seems like an important role. You’ll get to go to Scotland and you’ll never have to think about this place again. What a relief.”

I stare at him in absolute horror and the room falls silent. “Stop, that’s enough.”

“What? What’s with the looks?” Jameson shifts his eyes from me to his family and back again. “The woman came here for a night and stayed for four. It’s about damn time she gets back to her reality. We can’t keep her here, get over it.”

Silence falls over the room and I blink back tears refusing to let them fall.

“Yikes.” Archie raises his eyebrows. “Come on sis, let's go… anywhere else.” He lets out a dry chuckle. “I don’t want to watch old Jamie-boy hang himself like this.” The siblings disappear down the hall and Maisie follows close behind.

When it’s just Jameson and me left in the room. My heart sinks in my chest. “You don’t have to act like this. You can say what you’re feeling. Either you’re hurt or you’re entirely exhausted by my presence. But I can’t tell which.”

I don’t say anything else. We stand in silence. Then, I walk toward him, my arms outstretched. He’s angry and hurt, but I am too. When I reach him, I wrap my arms around his waist.

For a moment, he stays rigid, but then Jameson envelops me in a hug. He holds me so tight I can feel his heartbeat in my own chest. He buries his face into the crook of my neck and I feel his hot tears spilling across my skin.

When he finally releases me, I look up at him. “I guess I hoped you’d have a reason for me to stay.” It’s an honest truth. “I don’t want to think that this new beginning is actually just another ending in disguise.”

For some reason, I thought that this place, this farm, this family, might be different from anything else that I've encountered in my life. I thought that maybe it would be a chance for me to learn what it felt like to put down roots. To not only have something to come back to at the end of the day but to have something worth staying for.

But when I search Jameson’s eyes, the compassion isn’t there. I brace myself for the worst. The unspoken truth hangs heavy in the air, like a thick blanket of fog. I’m nothing more than an already fading memory to him, one that will eventually be obliterated from existence.

He will go back to his family, his farm, and his cherished solitude. The overwhelming sense of emptiness begins to overwhelm me. I can feel a deep ache in my chest as the sadness takes hold of me.

Jameson scrubs at the side of his neck with one hand. “Taking care of you while you were here was something I could manage. But I don't deserve for anyone to alter their lives in any way because of me. The information you need for your article is here. The streets will be clear soon and you can move on. Scotland is your dream and I’m not going to be the guy who takes that away from you.”

“Okay, so that’s what I’ll do.” I hold back my tears. “I’ll go to Scotland, stick to the plan. You keep the roots and I’ll keep the wings. Perfect. If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go gather my things and take them back to the inn to pack just in case the snow melts and my keys show up in a field tomorrow.” My words have a bite to them and I don’t try to disguise it.

“CC,” he starts and I turn to stare at him, daring him to say something else. He pauses. “There’s an electric heater in the closet in the inn, be sure to turn it on when you get inside. The fire hasn’t been on in a few days, it’ll be cold. Or you could come up to my—”

I roll my eyes. “Thanks for the offer. I have an article to finish writing tonight, so I’ll be on my own in the inn. I’ll see you tomorrow before I leave, maybe, if you're not already on your lunch break when I find my keys.”

When I march back to the inn with my belongings in hand it’s like the world's coldest walk of shame. In truth, this is my own fault. I should’ve stayed in my lane, taken a few photos of this farm, and gotten the hell out of here.

My life isn’t going to be a great cowboy love story because I’m not the girl next door. That would require living in a neighborhood for more than five minutes. My story is going to be the story of a solo female journalist. I’m Elizabeth Gilbert and I’m going to eat, pray, and love my ass all the way to Scotland.

The sooner I embrace that, the easier life will be. I cannot wait to listen to my breakup playlist and I won’t stop with Taylor Swift. I’m going straight to Kelly Clarkson’s post-divorce album.

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