There’s no way she missed what was happening.

Eli doesn’t seem to care. His eyes are still on me, like they always are. Searching. Prying. Stripping me bare under his gaze.

I should look away.

I don’t.

He sighs, finally turning to a frowning Sarah. I mutter a quick goodbye and jump in my car, desperate to escape this hell.

My shaking hands rest on the steering wheel, and I wait like a statue in my seat until they leave. Once they do, the rope binding me together slackens, my head falling against the wheel and my hand rubbing at the ache in my chest. I’ve gotten used to the hollow feeling, but right now it throbs, reminding me that I’m missing something vital. Something I left with Eli five years ago when I walked out the door.

Something I don’t think I’ll ever get back.

I don’t think I can do this.

He’s not mine. He never really was. And in two months, he never will be again.

40

Eli

The drive back to Pops’s place is silent. Sarah doesn’t say a word, just gazes out of the window as we make the quick five-minute trip from Main Street to the house. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to guess what she’s thinking. Anyone who was in a ten-mile radius could have felt the forcefield of energy surrounding Becca and me. Like usual, she made me lose control.

I see her and it’s this explosion of hurt slamming against raw, unbridled need, creating our own universe. My soul aches for answers. For the closure she never gave. To know what was so wrong with me that she wouldn’t let me in. Couldn’t let me love her.

Maybe once I know, I can finally move on and truly love someone else.

The second we pull in the driveway, Sarah’s out of the car and up the walkway, slamming the screen door and rushing through the living room.

I blow out a breath, attempting to ease the knot forming in my stomach as I follow her in. I do a quick scan for Pops and find him snoring softly from his recliner, ESPN blaring from the TV.

Tentatively, I make my way to the guest room. Sarah’s never given me the silent treatment before. I’m not sure what to expect.

Gripping the handle of the door—half expecting it to be locked—I walk in the room. Sarah’s in front of the dresser, her frame tense as she grips the edge of the wood.

“Tell me what’s going on with you and Becca.” Her voice is low. Shaky.

I shove my hands in my pockets. “What do you mean?”

Her narrowed eyes meet mine through the mirror. “I’m not stupid, Eli. She looks at you like you killed her puppy. I ignored it because I figured it was some childhood crush she never got over.”

My stomach twists.

“But you know what’s worse?” Sarah moves, dropping onto the bed. “I feel invisible when she’s around. I don’t like feeling invisible, especially when you’re my husband, not hers.”

“Fiancé.”

Her brows shoot to her hairline. “Excuse me?”

I clear my throat. “Fiancé. We aren’t married yet.”

Her lips turn down. “Yeah. I’m aware. And so is she, which is what concerns me.”

I chuckle at the thought of Becca being a concern. As if she gives a damn about me or who I’m marrying. “Sarah, there’s nothing to be worried about.”

She taps her fingers to her head. “A woman always knows, Eli. You’d do well to remember that.”

My heart ratchets up in speed, my ears deaf to everything except the sound of its beat.