Page 88 of Finding Home

That ache twinged in her heart. “You do, but I don’t belong here. This isn’t home. This isn’t my life. It’s?—”

“Just your vacation.”

His words gut-punched her.

“I think I realized it in Boston.”

Is that what she’d been doing with him? It wasn’t her life, but it didn’t feel temporary like the fanciful vacation romances Willa had. Even if the time with Clayton was brief, what she felt for him was engraved permanently on her heart.

This place was home for Clayton. After his marriage ended, he could have gone anywhere, but he came here. To his family. To his friends. To his home. This was his shelter in the storm. Perry had only ever been her storm, not her refuge.

A quiet clap of thunder broke the heavy silence between them. The sky grew dark gray, the same as Clayton’s eyes, with the impending storm.

“We should go.” Clayton cleared his throat and motioned to the pickup.

The cab of the truck was stifling with thick heaviness as they drove back to the farmhouse. Fat raindrops tapped angrily against the windows. The rain dulled to a mist as they arrived atthe farmhouse. Entering, Clayton grabbed the leash to take Fitz for a walk.

Elle offered to join, but he said, “No, you go take a shower.”

Once he’d left, Elle slid to the floor and pressed her back against the farmhouse’s door. Head buried into her bent knees, she let the tears flow. Each salty sting punctuated the truth roaring inside her.I hurt him. He deserves better. I don’t belong here.

"Stop! You’re not this girl.” She swiped at her face and stood up.

With a deep inhale, she pushed the emotions down and made her way to the bedroom. She pulled out her suitcases from the closet and placed them on the bed. Normally packing was a more thought-out process, but she just pulled things out of drawers and off hangers, tossing them in.

“What are you doing?” Clayton’s pinched greeting startled her.

She’d been so lost in thought she hadn’t heard him enter the room. “Packing.”

His forehead creased. “Why? You don’t leave for another six days.”

“I’m moving back to the Little Red Ba?—”

“No,” he interrupted sharply.

"It makes sense. There’s no reason to drag out the inevitable.”

“In…in…in—” he sucked in a breath. “—inevitable?”

“I’m leaving,” she huffed, flinging a T-shirt onto the pile of clothes in her suitcase.

“Not for another six days,” he repeated, his steely gaze fixed on her.

“It doesn’t matter.” Realizing she’d accidentally packed his Team Paw Patrol T-shirt, she yanked it up and handed it to him. “This is yours.”

He shook his head and refused to take it. “It does matter.”

“Clayton.” She held it out. “Just take the fucking shirt…please.” Her voice cracked.

"No.” He reached for her.

But she stepped back.

“Why are you doing this?”

“I’ve already been so unfair to you. Like you said, I’m on vacation. I’m the one who’s crashed into your life and in six days I get on a plane.”

“I know. You were always going to get on that plane.”

---