Page 47 of Deal Breaker
I grab my bag, fingers trembling slightly, and when I turn back, he’s just standing there—jaw tight, eyes unreadable.
But he doesn’t try to stop me.
And that almost hurts more than if he had.
EIGHTEEN
Ford
Her sweater is back on, and her purse is in her hand, and I know that she’s leaving. I stay where I am, every part of me wanting to reach for her again, but also knowing that I can’t. I don’t want her to feel cornered. Still, I can’t let her walk out of here without saying something.
“Landyn.”
She looks up, slowly. I know there are things she could say too, but her expression, still guarded, tells me she’s still not ready.
“You don’t have to explain,” I tell her gently. “I just want you to know it’s okay. We’re good.”
She nods, but I see the way her throat works when she swallows. “I didn’t come here planning for that to happen,” she says.
“I didn’t either.”
She lets out the smallest breath of a laugh. “Yeah, well… you didn’t have your sweater on the floor.”
A smile tugs at my mouth and I’m grateful to her for easing the heaviness that has settled around us.
“I didn’t stop because I didn’t want you,” she adds, voice softer now.
My heart bottoms out to my feet. I feel every word. “I know,” I say, and I mean it, and still, it nearly kills me to say it without pulling her back into me. But I don’t. Instead, I move toward her slowly, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. My fingers brush her cheek, and she lets her eyes flutter closed for just a second.
“You don’t owe me anything,” I say, and she nods again. This time when her gaze meets mine there is something close to sadness in it. “Come on,” I murmur. “Let me walk you out.”
We step into the night together, the cold brushing over both of us pulling us back into reality. We walk slowly, like neither of us is ready for the evening to end. I walk beside her, close enough to touch her but fighting the urge to do just that. When we reach her car, Landyn turns to face me.
“Thanks for dinner,” she says quietly.
“Thanks for showing up.”
I step closer and wrap my arms around her. She leans into it and that’s all I need. With a sigh, she sinks into me without hesitation, arms sliding around my waist, face against my chest, and when she takes a deep breath, it feels like maybe whatever is weighing on her lightens just a little. I press a slow, lingering kiss to her forehead without saying anything else then I hold her until she pulls away.
I open her car door, and she slides into the driver’s seat. And then she’s gone, leaving me standing here with my hands in my pockets, watching her taillights disappear into the dark.
I already miss her.
I wait until the sound of her tires on the pavement fades and the silence settles back in like it never left, then I headinside. The feel of her mouth on mine, the whisper of my name on her lips, still lingers. I look at the counter where she sat. Her glass is still there, half-full. The kitchen still smells like the faintest scent of her shampoo. It’s soft. Familiar. And it makes my chest ache. I run a hand through my hair and let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding.
We were close. Closer than we’ve been to anything real in a long damn time. And then she pulled back. And I let her because whatever’s holding her in place—it’s bigger than me. But I felt the way her body arched into mine like it was second nature. The way she looked at me later—like she hated leaving and couldn’t stay all at once.
She wanted me, but I felt it the second it changed—when something else slammed into her hard enough to shatter that moment between us.
I walk to the window and rest my hand on the frame, staring out into the dark.What is she hiding?I know guilt. I know uncertainty. That’s not what pulled her from my arms and sent her running. It was heavier, like she’s guarding something.
Tonight, left me with even more questions about the woman I used to know better than I knew myself. One thing is for certain, though: whatever secret she’s keeping, it can’t stay hidden forever. It’s bubbling closer to the surface, whether she’s ready or not.
“She’s not just here for work,” I say out loud. “She didn’t just come back to Deep Cove for a job.”
I’mat Cove early the next morning, buried in reports. Bad press keeps snowballing faster than we can contain it.The kind of press that can make people forget about all the things we’ve done right. I shove my hands through my hair and close the window on my computer, moving to this week’s schedule. It’s packed.
Board updates, supplier negotiations, a feature piece withPacific Lifestyle Magazinethat Landyn is spearheading, plus a meeting with the bank to secure the last distribution of funds for the factory. Every minute is accounted for. And next week’s no better.
