I did that to her. I broke her heart and walked away, and she had to rebuild herself without me.
The guilt sits heavy in my stomach.
“You look good,” I say finally, because the silence is killing me.
She doesn’t respond.
“Thisjob looks good on you. Always knew you’d make a hell of a vet.”
Still nothing.
“Where are you staying?”
“South Ridge Road. Big blue house.”
I head in that direction, knowing the exact place she’s talking about. That’s Caleb’s ranch. I forgot that she’s his sister. I always did think it was weird that when we took Charlie in, he had a connection to her. Weird the way the universe works. I wonder if he knows she’s back in town.
I chance another peek at her and try again. “How long have you been back?”
She’s quiet for so long, I don’t think she’s going to talk at all. But?—
“A few weeks.” The words are clipped.
“You could have called.” I don’t know why those words burst out of my chest.
That gets a reaction. She turns to look at me, and there’s fire in her eyes. “Called you? Are you serious right now?”
“I just meant?—”
“What exactly would I have said, Jake? ‘Hey, remember me? The girl whose heart you ripped out because your career was more important than she was? Just wanted to let you know I’m back in town.’”
The words hit like bullets, each one finding its mark. “It wasn’t like that.”
“Wasn’t it?” She laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “Because that’s exactly what it felt like.”
I pull into the driveway and kill the engine, but neither of us moves to get out. The silence stretches between us, heavy with everything we’re not saying.
“Fuck, Willa,” I say finally, the words torn out of me. “I’ve missed you.”
And like a dam breaks, her tears spill over.
She turns in her seat to face me fully. “You missed me? You don’t get to say that. You don’t get to sit there and tell me you missed me when you’re the one who left.”
“I was so young?—”
“So was I!” Her voice cracks. “And I was in love with you, and you walked away like we meant nothing.”
“You meant everything,” I say desperately.
“Then why?” The question comes out broken, small. “Why did you choose them, this… over me?”
Because I was scared. Because I was young and stupid and thought I had to choose between love and success. Because I didn’t know then that success means nothing if you don’t have someone to share it with.
“I thought…” I run a hand through my hair, trying to find the words. “I thought I was protecting you. The circuit, the travel, the lifestyle—it’s not easy on relationships. I didn’t want to drag you down with me.”
A lie. I was a fucking coward. And I’m ashamed.
“That should have been my choice.”
