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“She’s not your mom, you know.”
“What?” Why in the fuck was Tay bringing up my mom?
“Ruby is not your mom. She’s not going to just vanish from your life one day.”
“What are you talking about? You don’t even know her.”
“Yes, I do. I’m good at reading people, even from thousands of miles away. You, of all people, should know that. She’s a good egg, Kane, and she loves you. You have to tell her you love her. I’m not saying that everything is going to be easy, but when has life ever been easy for us?” She let out a forced laugh. “But whatever happens, all I know is that two amazing people—one of whom I know never lets anyone in—love each other. Do you think that sort of love happens all the time? If you do, I’ll tell you now, it doesn’t.
“I know you think you’re doing the right thing by her. But you’re not. So stop hiding behind some archaic sense of gallantry and just treat her like you would want to be treated, or you would want me or Harp to be treated. Stop trying to be the hero who falls on his own sword, and be the hero who gives the heroine her own sword. And by sword, I mean telling her you love her because knowledge is power, baby.” She chuckled, and I couldn’t help but grin.
No one found Tay as amusing as she did herself.
“Seriously though, I love you and I love her, and you both deserve to be happy. Or at least the chance to try.”
I took a deep breath and realized that, yes, I had thought I was doing the right thing, but both Sam and Tay pointed out that Ruby had the right to know and to make her own decisions. And they were right.
“So don’t be a chicken shit,” Tay stated flatly before disconnecting the call.
“I love you, too,” I said, even though she was no longer on the line.
Which was exactly what would happen if I let Ruby go without telling her how I felt. I’d be declaring my love for her to no one but myself.
Yeah, that was not going to happen.
35
RUBY
“Lovin’ someone who doesn’t love ya back is like huggin’ a cactus, the tighter ya hold on, the more it hurts.” ~ Miss Dottie
My eyes opened, and I saw the broken blinds in my old room/music studio/new guest room. After Kane had been so enthusiastic about me booking the reality show and leaving town, I’d only planned on going for a drive so I could cry, but somehow, I’d ended up at the trailer park.
It was after midnight when I pulled in and found my mom on her front steps, having a glass of wine. She asked me what was wrong. I told her I didn’t want to talk about it. Instead of trying to force me to talk, she just wrapped her arms around me and gave me a hug. Then she poured me my own glass of wine, and we went to bed. I downed the wine in two gulps, laid down, and passed out. It turned out that crying for hours was exhausting.
My eyes were still adjusting to the morning light as I sat up in bed and checked my phone. It died right after I left to go on the drive, and Sally didn’t have a working charger. Thankfully, my mom had an extra, so I plugged it in before going to sleep.
When my blurry vision cleared, I saw that I had four missed calls from Kane and two from my agent. Kane also sent me five texts asking if I was okay and telling me he was really worried. I quickly messaged him back, letting him know that I was fine and that I’d be by soon to get my things.
A small tinge of guilt twisted in my chest that he had been worried, but I quickly dismissed it. I was a grown woman who he’d made clear he did not need because he was on leave. He’d also pointed out that Harper would be starting first grade and Taylor would be home, so no one needed me. Just thinking about how excited he’d been for me to move away had tears forming in my eyes again, but I refused to cry two days in a row for someone who would not shed a tear for me.
I sniffed back the emotion and headed out to the kitchen to make myself a coffee and maybe some toast. When I walked into the front room, I was struck by how nice everything looked. There were new curtains on the windows, no dishes in the sink, and it smelled like fresh laundry. I hadn’t noticed when I came in last night because I’d been so upset.
“Good morning. Feeling better?” my mom asked as she walked up behind me from her room. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and she was wearing jeans and a Greasy Spoon t-shirt.
“Yeah.” I forced myself to smile as I continued toward the kitchen.
“You sit,” she instructed, pointing to one of the two folding chairs pulled up to the small bistro-sized table. “I’ll get you coffee. Do you want some breakfast?” she asked.
“Um, sure.” I couldn’t remember a time my mom had ever offered to make coffee or breakfast or… anything. Our house had always been a fend-for-yourself situation.
She popped two pieces of bread in the toaster and then pulled eggs out of the fridge before filling a mug from a steaming coffee pot. She put in two sugars and a splash of milk.
“How did you know that?” I asked as she handed me the mug.
“Know what?”
“How I take my coffee.”
