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“I don’t need that kind of help, Kinsley. I need... I don’t even know what I need anymore, but it’s not this.”
The moment stretched on—a standstill in our personal storm. Then he climbed into the truck, starting the engine without another word.
The roar of the engine was a harsh farewell, leaving me standing there, grappling with the realization that love, no matter how deep, might not be enough to overcome some obstacles.
Chapter 37
She Got the Best of Me - Luke Combs
Wyatt
By the time I got back to my farm, it was dark. I pulled the truck up to the house and put it into park.
My head sagged. I could’ve fallen asleep right there behind the wheel. Somehow, I mustered the energy to drag myself out of the truck and up to the house, my fingers searching for the keyhole in the dark.
The inside of the house greeted me with an even deeper darkness, without the moon’s soft glow. As I flipped the light switch on the wall, the quietness of the space struck me, but it was warm and clean thanks to Kinsley.
A lump formed in my throat as I tossed the keys onto the small table by the front door and trudged up the stairs to my room. Collapsing onto the bed, I smelled the lingering scent of sweet apple on the pillow beside me. Pulling it close, I inhaled deeply.
How could she have gone behind my back like that? I’d thought we were past these games, past the point where she felt the need to fix me. Her betrayal stung, reopening wounds I’d thought were healing.
How did we move on from this? Were we doomed to just repeat this same fight over and over again? I didn’t know how much more I could take. I couldn’t be with her when she constantly undermined me. But I also couldn’t be without her.
When sunlight flooded my room the next morning, I groaned, reaching out for Kinsley, only to find her side of the bed empty. The events of the previous day came rushing back, deepening my groan of frustration.
Sitting up, I ran my hands through my hair. Birds were chirping outside like it was any old day and I hadn’t just blown up my life again.
I checked my phone. There was only one message from Finn.
Forgive me yet?
No.
Alright. I’ll check back tomorrow.
Fucking Finn.
Heading downstairs, I found the kitchen bare. We hadn’t known when we would be back, so we’d cleared out anything that would spoil. I considered skipping breakfast, but I was hungry and I wouldn’t get much done on an empty stomach, so I grabbed my keys and headed for my truck.
I drove for about ten minutes before I realised I wasn’t heading towards town or a restaurant of any kind. My stomach complained, and I turned my truck down the next mile road.
The Harper farm loomed in the distance. I inspected their pasture as I approached. It was overgrazed, early in the season too. I shook my head. It was going to be a tough year for them.
Pulling up to the house, I saw Grace on the front porch, cleaning saddles.
“Back so soon?” she greeted in surprise.
“What can I say? I’m already missing the home cooking,” I joked.
“What, your rodeo queen can’t cook?”
I flinched at that.
Grace turned red, looked down at the saddle, and scrubbed. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that,” she mumbled.
“It might be a little true,” I admitted with a laugh.
She smiled at me. “So, what’s really going on?”
