Page 104 of That One Night
I’ll keep my end of the deal. – Montclair
“It’s fine. We’ve had a few people interested. It’ll be easier once the lien is removed this weekend.”
“It’s being taken care of?” Dammit, he had to go there. He couldn’t stop himself. Yes, he’d pulled away but he still wanted to know everything about this woman.
“Do you care?” she asked him. She was so clearly trying not to let him see she was hurt. And it was killing him. He wished she’d just shout at him, rip into him about how much of an ass he was. All those things he could take. Hell, he could secretly seethe because he was doing this for her own good. For his mom’s good.
And yes, he was playing the martyr, but what choice did he have? He couldn’t be responsible for them losing to that asshole.
But the way this woman was keeping her pride? That was like torture.
“Of course I care,” he told her.
“Because you want me to leave?” she asked. “That’ll make things easier for you, won’t it? When you won’t have to look out of your window and see me.” She let out a long breath, not meeting his eye. “Well, you don’t have to worry. I’m taking care of everything. As soon as I meet with Trenton’s parents and get that lien removed, I’m packing my things and getting out of here.”
Wait. What?“You’re meeting with Trenton’s parents?”
“That’s what I just said.”
“Why?”
Her mouth dropped open. “Excuse me, I don’t know if you got the memo, but once you end things with a woman you don’t get to ask them questions anymore.”
“I still care about you,” he told her, his voice low.
“Oh, no.” She shook her head wildly. “You don’t get to play that card. You don’t get to pretend you care when you broke my damn heart into tiny pieces just days ago.” Her voice cracked, and it killed him. “Now excuse me, I have things to do. And they don’t involve looking backward.”
She turned to walk away, but he couldn’t let her. He couldn’t let this be it. There was no way he could make things better, he knew that. Not without making things worse for her. But it still killed him to see her like this.
He reached for her arm, shocked as ever at the softness of her skin. Her wrist was warm from the sun’s rays, but so damn delicate he could more than circle it with his fingers.
“Emery…”
“What?” She lifted her eyes to him. He could see the tears reflecting there.
Tears he’d caused.
“I just… I want you to be happy. That’s all. You’re a good person. You deserve that.”
She wrenched her wrist away from him. “But clearly not good enough,” she told him before she walked away, leaving him standing in the dusty lane, wishing he knew how to make things right.
“Is there something wrong with your phone?” Pres asked him, as Hendrix climbed off his motorcycle. It was Friday evening and he was beyond exhausted. He’d been starting work right after dawn and had stayed in the fields long after all the other workers had left for the evening. In the end his uncle had chased him out, telling him in no uncertain terms it was time to leave the bailing alone.
But home was the one place he didn’t want to be.
Especially not when his brother was outside his cottage waiting for him, having let himself inside to grab a beer. Pres had made himself completely at home. He was sitting on the porch, Frank curled up at his feet, like he was settling in for the long haul.
“I’ve been busy.” Hendrix walked up the steps. Frank stood to greet him, nuzzling his chest.
“Just a quick message to let us know you’re alive would have helped,” Pres told him.
Stroking Frank’s maw, Hendrix looked at his brother. “It’s harvest time,” he pointed out. “Do I bother you when you’re neck deep in construction work? And anyway, you know I’m alive. Uncle Logan would have told you if I wasn’t.”
Pres sighed. “Okay, so mom sent me over.”
And there it was, the crux of the matter. “You can tell her I’m fine.”
“But you’re not. And she needs some papers signed for the charity.”
