Page 4

We need to talk about your stuff.

I stare at the screen until the words blur together. My stuff. Right. The TV I bought when he said his was perfectly fine even though it was older than dirt. My clothes. The dining table I found at an estate sale and spent three weekends refinishing. The couch we picked out together—well, I picked out while he played on his phone—and the spare bedroom furniture.

How the hell am I supposed to get any of that back when I can’t even look at him without wanting to scream?

My fingers hover over the keyboard. I type and delete about fifteen different responses before settling on something that won’t make me sound completely unhinged.

Later. I need time.

The truth is, I need a place to stay first. I can’t exactly haul a dining table to a hotel room and that’s the last place I want to go. If I check into a hotel, the clerk will call someone who will call someone who will call more people, and before I wake up, every local Big Ridge resident will know my business. The curse of living in a small town. The last thing I want is more drama or pitying looks.

I scroll through my contacts, desperate to talk to someone who can commiserate with me, but Aspen’s in Ireland for her grandmother’s funeral and Callie’s off on a tropical vacation with her guys, probably sipping drinks with little umbrellas. I don’t want to ruin her vacation and Aspen has enough to worry about without adding in my terrible love life. The screen mocks me as I stare at it.

It’s not like I don’t have other friends, I do, though I’m not close to them in that way. I’d have to explain too much, possibly deal with them taking Matt’s side or not understanding my hurt. The only other person that I’d want to talk to is Mom, but I can’t without worrying I’d set her off. Early Alzheimer’s is a bitch.

Forcing myself to shove worries for Mom aside, I tuck my phone away and look around the cabin. Mom always wanted to but could never afford to update the place. What she really wanted was to open a bed and breakfast. The house was old and worn when she bought it on a whim, moving us halfway across the country to this mountain town, far away from my dad and his infidelity. She was drawn to it by the fact it was charming and cute.

She used to cry herself to sleep. Once we moved in, she started smiling and laughing again. This cabin gave her back her happiness. Sure, the living room has seen better days. The hardwood floors are covered in a layer of filth that we’ll need to sand in order to restore it to its former glory. The stone fireplace needs a good cleaning, but the old leather sectional looks okay. . . ish. Half of the house is torn apart with exposed studs. This space, though?

It’s livable, or at the very least, sleepable.

I walk over to the couch and sink into it. Through the front window, the porch light casts a warm glow over the worn Adirondack chairs. The warm amber hue kindles a memory.

“Why the hell would you keep a place like this?” Matt’s lip is curled in disgust.

“It’s not so bad,” I say, studying the dilapidated structure. It’s rough around the edges, definitely seen better days. Mom had a vision, and I’m determined to make it happen.

“You should just tear it down.”

I shake my head but don’t bother explaining.

Matt never understood that this was more than a remodel. This is more than a house. It was home. The silence presses in around me. Matt didn’t even try to fight for our relationship. It was so easy to discard it. My chest aches, more from the memory of how my dad had done the same. That’s definitely a wound I pointedly ignore.

With a heavy sigh, breathing out all the negative thoughts about how I stayed with Matt for far too long, I grab the soft gray throw blanket from the back of the couch and wrap it around my shoulders.

I don’t work tomorrow which means I can spend all day figuring out the logistics. Tonight, I want to disappear into this quiet space where the only person who can disappoint me is me.

The couch cradles me as I curl up on my side, phone on silent beside me. My breathing evens out. The knot in my chest loosens enough to let exhaustion creep in. Tomorrow. Tomorrow I’ll fix my life.

Chapter Two

HUDSON

I push through the front door of our reno project with my toolbox in one hand and coffee in the other, expecting to find an empty house and a good day’s work ahead of us. Instead, I freeze in the doorway.

Lily’s curled up on the couch, red hair spilling over the cushions like liquid copper. She’s still in yesterday’s clothes: the tight skirt and purple blouse that brings out her eyes. I mean, if I were to pay attention. Which I’m not.

“What the hell?”

Cole bumps into my back, nearly spilling his own coffee. “Dude, why’d you—” He stops mid-sentence when he sees what I’m staring at. “Oh.”

Gage crowds in behind us, his boots heavy on the threshold. “Everything okay?” Then he spots her too. His expression shifts from confusion to something protective that I recognize in myself even though I shouldn’t.

No matter how long I’ve had a crush on her, regardless of the fact that Matt knew when he asked her out, despite the fact that I can’t get her out of my head, she’s off limits. She’s Matt’s girlfriend. Even still, I release a frustrated sound. She shouldn’t be staying here. It’s not safe.

The guys look at me.

“You okay?” Gage asks.