Page 14 of Pretty Ruthless

I close the letter as tears spill down my cheeks. He knew this whole damn time that Dawson and I were both living with half of our hearts. As promised the deed to the house sits in the envelope and I run my thumb across my grandpa's signature and contemplate. I know what I should do, I know what I need to do, but it still fucking hurts.

Chapter 13

Claire

Present

Rain pelts the window of the truck as we sit in miserable silence.

“There are pieces of what happened that you don’t know.,” I say finally, “it’s not as cut and dry as you think it is.” My throat feels like sandpaper as I admit this to him.

“Please, please enlighten me because I feel like I missed a massive chunk of what happened between you riding my face on the couch that night and waking up to a note on the nightstand with the deed to the house.” His voice raises.

“You remember that letter my grandpa left me in the will?” I ask nervously, I pick at the fraying edges of the cut out in my jeans, avoiding eye contact as much as possible.

“Yeah,” he answers, drawing out the syllables waiting for me to go on.

“He told me if I wasn’t going to be all in with you that I needed to let you go.” I paraphrase.

“I don’t think that was a decision you should have made on your own. How do you know that I wouldn’t have wanted to still be with you even if you lived a couple hundred miles away?-”

“Because I couldn’t give you my whole heart at the time.” I say quickly. “It wasn’t fair to you.” My hands move to my chest, covering my heart like I need to keep a cage over it so it doesn’t run away.

“I think that I should have gotten to decide what was fair to me and what wasn’t. You took that opportunity away because it was easier for you.” he hits his hands on the steering wheel in frustration. I don’t blame him for his anger, but nothing about that night was easy.

“Easier? Easier! Nothing about any of this has been easy!” I snap, turning to face him.

“It could have been, hell should have been, but you make it difficult because you are constantly walking away. I can’t do it anymore Claire. I really can’t. I love you, I’ve loved you since we were thirteen years old.” He sighs, putting the truck in drive, “I can’t be an afterthought anymore.”

I realize where we are as the house comes into view.

“I wanted you to see this, hoped it might help you to remember it but I think the girl you were might be gone now. I see little flickers of her here and there but she’s buried under a cold exterior.” His words are like teeth, digging deep into me, ripping the vein open to reveal the real me. I’ve closed myself off for a reason. I couldn’t do what needed to be done, and remain the same person. That night took the last sliver of my hope for the future with him.

“How? What? I left you the house so you could sell it to pay off the debt for the garage.” Why did he keep it? This isn’t how our story was supposed to go, but I wanted to make sure he didn’t get the short end of the stick. That he could still live his dream, even if I wasn’t a part of it.

“I know.” He says, opening the door to the truck nodding for me to get out.

“Then how are we here?” I ask, praying we aren’t trespassing on the new owner's property.

“I transferred the deed to both of us,” he says as he hops out of the truck. “This is our house.” The rain is unforgiving, trying to wash away the thick cloud hanging over us.

“How did you pay off the garage then?” I ask, he’s standing outside the truck as the rain blankets him, thoroughly soaking his clothes. I can see every valley between his muscles as his shirt clings to him, revealing his intense shape. That of a strong mechanic, working on cars has been good for him.

“Come in, I’ll tell you the whole story,” he says and starts up the steps towards the house. I open the door to the truck and hop out, mud covers the bottom of my shoes as the rain covers my shoulders and hair. I let out a squeal as I run to the house, the ground splashing with each step.

The porch doesn't squeak as I take the bottom step and the new stain gives the old wood a brighter appearance. The door is new too, with an updated keypad lock and brass handles, I inspect the rest of the front of the house and notice the new windows and roof. “You’ve done a lot of work to this place.” I note as he punches a code into the lock.

“Yeah,” he laughs, “I have a lot of time on my hands.” He opens the door and I am blown away by the interior. Gone is the wallpaper and shag carpet of my childhood, replaced by crown molding and hardwood floors, everything looks clean and crisp and much like my apartment in San Francisco.

“Wow,’ I mutter, “Daws, this is unbelievable, it doesn't even look like the same house.” I’m not sure how that sounded out loud but in my head, it was super cheerful and full of glee.

He laughs lightly and then looks around, “I don’t know if that's a good thing or a bad thing.” Does he think I don’t like it? Oh god, I hope not.

“It's a good thing.” I smile, reigning myself back in and he smiles back at me.

We walk through the house and you honestly wouldn't even know a single man lived in the house, it’s clean and well kept, with plants on the windows and hand towels on the stove handle. A thought occurs to me that I hadn’t considered up until this point as I look around the room, nervously.

“Dawson?’ I question, “are you seeing anyone?” My heart feels like its not beating as I await his answer. He blushes, and if I didn’t need the answer to this question so badly it would be adorable.

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