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“Goodnight, Dean.”

“Goodnight, Blair.”

She steps inside and closes the door between us.

* * *

I pull into my driveway and stare at the dark house, thankful Aspen is staying with my parents tonight.

This isn’t how any of this was supposed to go.

I was supposed to take Blair to dinner, bring her home, and tell her I was done pretending this was casual. I was supposed to fall asleep with her in my arms.

Instead, I’m alone, wondering what the fuck went wrong.

I head inside, rip off my button-down shirt, and grab a cold beer from the refrigerator before taking it onto the back porch. The silence out here has never bothered me before.

Tonight, it’s fucking deafening.

Since Blair walked into my life, she’s consumed almost every thought I’ve had. I didn’t know it at the time, but seeing her behind the bar at The Breakwater fucked up every plan I’d made for myself.

Now she wants space from me, and I don’t even know why.

I pull out my phone and stare at her name, debating whether sending anything would go against what I promised her.

Eventually, I type one message.

ME: I’m sorry I pushed. You don’t have to answer.

I send it before I can change my mind.

Minutes pass, but the screen stays dark.

Every instinct I have is telling me to get back in my truck. To drive to her cottage and knock on the door until she finally tells me what the fuck frightened her.

But Blair asked for space.

I hate it. I don’t understand it. But I’ll give it to her.

I turn my phone face-down on the table and force myself not to reach for it again.

Because apparently, sometimes protecting someone means knowing when to leave them the fuck alone.

Thirty One

Blair

Ilock the door behind me, check it once, then twice, and still don’t feel safe.

My phone lights up in my hand.

DEAN: I’m sorry I pushed. You don’t have to answer.

I stare at his message until the words blur, and then the sob I’ve been holding in finally tears its way out of me.

I cry for myself. For Dean. For the way I shut him out and let him go home believing he’d done something wrong. He pushed tonight, but he wasn’t cruel. The moment I asked him for space, he gave it to me—even though I could see how badly it hurt him.

I don’t know where my head is right now. Part of me knows I want to stay. I deserve to fucking stay. I deserve this home, these people and the chance to be happy.