“Stay with me.”
I should say no. I should walk out and leave him to the loneliness he chose. But I don’t. I cross the room. Climb into the bed next to him.
He turns immediately, pulling me into his arms, clutching me like a drowning man. And moments later, he’s snoring softly against my hair.
I lie there, rigid. Staring into the dark. For a brief, foolish moment, I let myself believe. Maybe it was just amisunderstanding. Maybe he’s just scared. Maybe we can still fix this.
His phone buzzes in his pocket. Once. Twice. Three more times.
I ignore it at first. Try to. But when it doesn’t stop, I carefully ease it from his jeans. My hands shake as I unlock it. I know the code. Just like he knows mine.
I open the messages.
The first is from Teddy, confirming our trip to Texas.
I start to breathe again. Until I see the second thread.
No name saved. But I know.
The blonde.
It’s her.
Three photos. Explicit. Smiling. Posing for him. Offering herself to him. And the last message… “Can’t wait to ride you, cowboy.”
The world tilts.
My heart stops.
I sit there, staring at the screen. At the proof. At the truth. At the final, irreparable fracture between us. And for the first time tonight, I realize this isn't a misunderstanding.
It’s betrayal. Pure and complete.
So, I slip from the bed and go to my room, locking the door behind me.
And then I break.
18
I wake up bright and early. The house is still. But inside me, there's a storm raging. And a plan. I spent most of the night lying awake, staring at the ceiling, my heart breaking repeatedly until I realized I can't stay. Not like this. Not after everything.
I move through the house quietly, careful not to disturb him. In the kitchen, I sit at the table, a steaming cup of coffee in front of me, the pale morning light slanting through the windows. I’m already dressed. My bag is packed. My decision made. I’m going to go on this trip with Liam, but when we get back? I’m finding another job. If, for some reason, I don’t, then I’ll go home and stay with my parents until I figure out what in the hell I’m doing.
When Liam finally stumbles in, he looks rough. Dark circles under his eyes. Hair mussed. Knuckles still raw and bruised. Honestly, I hope he feels as bad as he looks.
He freezes when he sees me sitting there so calmly.
“Good morning,” I say, lifting my cup to my lips.
He winces at the sound of my voice, moving stiffly to the coffeepot to pour himself a cup. His hands shake slightly as he grips the mug.
I set my cup down, the soft clink echoing between us.
“I booked our flights to San Angelo,” I say evenly.
He glances at me over his shoulder, wary.
“We leave at eight tomorrow, which means we’ll have to leave here by five.” I shrug. “It was the only direct flight they had.”
