Page 91 of Lead Me Knot

“Don’t walk away with this unresolved.”

“It’s resolved. You made sure of it.” She turns away from me, her gaze darting to the door like she’s going to outmaneuver a former quarterback. But then she says, “Please move, Baylor.”

Reasoning doesn’t work, and the spiraling drags us further apart in this argument. I’m not leaving until we’ve said all there is to say. “No. I’m not letting you walk away this time.”

That glare strikes like wildfire, ready to burn me to the ground. “Let me?” Her hand plants on her hip, a sign that I really fucked up this time. “Married or not, you don’t get to decide what I do or don’t. I don’t need your permission to leave. I can walk away anytime I please.”

She doesn’t move. Despite the threat, she holds her ground, not showing an ounce of weakness. She’s stunning in her independence, making me wonder if she’ll ever let me back in. “Don’t you see? That’s what you do. You walk away when you feel the slightest discomfort.”

“Discomfort?” She scoffs at me.

Not deterred, I say, “You leave?—”

“To save myself the pain of being abandoned by you. We both know it will happen sooner or later, so I protect myself from . . .” She closes her mouth just before crossing a line we both know might be a step too far to come back from.

It doesn’t need to be said out loud. Although I already know the ending, that doesn’t lessen the damage done. “From me?”

The fire in her eyes doesn’t burn as bright as it did, and another emotion gets its footing. It’s not as harsh, but it’s still not forgiving. I don’t recognize who she is, and I’m starting to believe that I may not be able to save us. If we can’t talk, we have nothing left to give.

Because I need to hear it, I place the final nail for her to hammer home, and ask again, “Are you protecting yourself from me, Lauralee?”

Her hand falls to her side as the other fidgets with the hem of her shirt. Shifting her weight, her eyes stay focused on the floor between us. She whispers, “I’m protecting myself from everyone.” She finally looks at me. “If I leave first, I can’t blame anyone else. It makes it a lot easier to sleep at night knowing I broke my own heart instead of placing the blame elsewhere.”

“Who hurt you?”

“Please.” Stifling a sob, she rubs her brow in a sudden motion. I think it’s to hide her eyes so I don’t see the tears, though I can hear them in her voice. “It’s not important.”

“It is to me.”

“I don’t want to talk about my father,” she replies, raising her voice again. “You know he left me!”

“And I’m right here because I’m not him.”

“You’re right. He had the courtesy of walking out without a word instead of lying to me.”

“You can push me away, but I’ll be here through the highs and the lows. I’ll be here when you finally realize I married you for love. Not a damn rental agreement or loan. I married you, Lauralee, because I’m so fucking in love with you that I can’t live life without you in it.” Shock overwhelms her, widening her eyes and causing her head to jut back on her neck. “And here’s the kicker, Shortcake.” I lean down, making sure our eyes are padlocked together, and say, “I know that’s why you married me, too. Though you do a much better job of lying to yourself than you accuse me of doing.” I step aside, giving her the room to make her own decision and go where she pleases, even if that means putting a door between us.

Tears saturate her pretty browns before she looks at the bedroom door like it’s her savior. Her feet stay in place, though her breath staggers as she looks back at me with conflict in the lines of her forehead.

I wish I wasn’t a debate to her, but I’ve lost her trust. I can only work to earn it back from here.If she gives me the chance.

I say, “I’m not going anywhere. You can push me away all you want, but I’ll still be here waiting for you to return. Hoping you do one day.”

Her lips part just enough to take in a bigger breath, but then she shakes her head. “What if it takes a lifetime?”

“I’ll wait.”

I can’t handle the silence she finds comfort in. Each passing second is a painful reminder of my misdeeds and how I ruined everything. Maybe that’s the point. Maybe I need to feel what I’ve done to make sure it never happens again. “I’m sorry.” The ache is astounding, my hand covering my chest as it splits wide open. “I was doing what I thought was right. I was making an effort to correct my mistakes. I’m sorry you have to suffer because of it, because of me. I’m sorry for not talking to you sooner.” I glance at the large envelope on the coffee table again. “I swear it’s all in there.”

Her eyes chase mine, but when they return, it’s not anger I see despite it streaming through her tone earlier. It’s disappointment, which makes it worse. This cycle is too vicious to break. I’m losing her.I can feel it.

With nowhere left to go and my own tears clouding my vision, I drop to my knees in front of her. “I don’t want to lose you. I swear on my life I was fixing this mess from the moment I found out.”

“Lowering the rent would have been a lot simpler because fixing one problem doesn’t negate the anguish you’ve put me through.” Impatience quickens her response, “It also doesn’t explain why you married me either.”

“For love,” I reply, still holding on to hope like a lifeline to save us both from drowning in the pain.

“I wasn’t asking for love. I was asking for a marriage to help with a loan to save my business.”Like a spear to the heart . . .But her breathing picks up, and she struggles to control the upset in her tone. “So much damage has been done that could have been avoided. Mistakes?—”

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