I don’t like feeling used.
Those words had hit me hard. We had an arrangement to prevent her from getting hurt, but that was something I seemed good at doing. Leaving her bed, telling her we were just some high school stuff, and making her feel unwelcome in my house that first day after she had arrived.
My ex’s words had stayed with me, which wasn’t unexpected. But I hadn’t anticipated the way they’d burrow into my brain. Had I thought some part of this situation with June would manifest into a real future? I’d known what we were getting into. So had she.
But sometimes I wondered . . .
“Kirstin and I talked yesterday.” I took the pan off the stove and flicked the knob to off.
She finished, shaking the water off the strawberries and set them on the counter. “Oh?”
I gently spun her around to face me. “We agreed that seeing each other with other people is going to be a little awkward, but she’s dating too.” The next point had been sitting on my mind too. “She also mentioned she was between assignments. She didn’t come home only because she was worried the girls had been exposed. And she thinks I’m too scared to leave Bourbon Canyon.”
“Oh.” June blinked and shook her head like she was having trouble processing what I’d said. She frowned. “She was on her way to Montana anyway?”
“Who knows. She might’ve been planning to go somewhere else and rerouted to Bourbon Canyon. She might’ve bumped up her plans.” I didn’t tell June about Kirstin’s last comment, that she thought I’d cut her out of the kids’ life if I thought it best. Did I want my ex to be more attentive? Of course. But I wasn’t scaring her off of being with the girls, was I?
June leaned against the counter across from me and crossed her ankles. “And the fear? Why does she say that? You have people to take care of.”
“All I ever want to do is the right thing by the people I love.” As soon as the words left my mouth, I froze. I couldn’t take them back. I’d never fallen out of love with June.
June’s expression softened. “I know you do. It seems we both had hard talks with people close to us.”
“Which sister? Or was it Mae?”
“Mama’s already had her turn.” She pushed her hair back. “I might’ve mentioned to Autumn that I wasn’t sure if I wanted the next step. The stress of the albumflopping. The hectic touring. I just don’t know if that’s what I want.”
It was. Without a doubt, June was made for performing. Her songs resonated with too many people. She was good on the stage. A natural.
I closed the few feet of distance between us. “You deserve it all.”
Her plump lower lip puffed out. “I don’t know if I want it all anymore.” She closed her eyes and shook her head. “I’m sorry. We’re not talking about me.”
“Yes, we are. You do deserve it. Just like that little girl you used to be deserved a warm home and a roof over her head when it was storming out. Just like she deserved to be heard when she was terrified in that car wreck.”
“My parents tried?—”
I put my finger on her lips. She licked my fingertip and lust was quick to pool in my groin. “You keep doing that, we’re going to have a repeat of the shower.”
“Threats aren’t supposed to sound like incentives.”
I smiled and caged her against the counter. “You deserve to be successful. You’re working for it and you’re so damn talented. Holding back would be like... trapping a butterfly under a glass for eternity.”
Her eyes went liquid. “You always made me feel special.”
“Not always.” Our run-in at the funeral haunted me, but not nearly as much as her giving up ten yards before the finish line.
“The funeral was an emotional time for you,” she said, reading part of my expression. “I almost didn’t go.”
“I’m glad you did.” People here would’ve held it against her otherwise. My high school sweetheartblowing off my father’s death would have dimmed the admiration and protection of the people who knew both of us.
“Me too.” Her gaze flickered with indecision and she took a breath before she spoke again. “I thought of staying then, you know. Of never going back, but the trip... uh... reaffirmed the path I was on.”
After I’d told her she’d wasted a plane ticket if she’d thought I was waiting for her. Saying the words had been a knife twist to the goddamn gut, but necessary. I’d seen the indecision in her eyes, the homesickness, and the draw between us had still been there. It’d always be there. I hadn’t been strong enough to say no to her if she came to me, if we rekindled what we’d had.
“Good. You needed to stay on that path.”
And I would be the man she needed again. When it came time for her to go, I’d tell her that we were over, and I’d make sure she heard me this time.
