I was desperate to feel everything she’d brought out in me—that rush that I experienced around her. The hum under my skin that had made me feel like I had met my counterpart…my match…my perfect equal.
It had taken me more than a decade to realize I’d been searching for her all along.
It had always been her.
But clearly, that had been one-sided. It had to be when she was so willing to throw away what we had, all because she saw me just like everyone else did.
Even though what we had wasn’t supposed to be real, itfeltlike it. And every second had felt real to me. Enough to make my chest ache with regret and longing for what we’d never have.
CHAPTERTWENTY-NINE
QUINN
Yesterday had beena shitshow from start to finish.
After fleeing the cottage in the morning, I’d been distracted all day, providing less than stellar care to the full schedule of patients I saw thanks to the fact that I was now the only doctor in Starlight Cove.
I didn’t know what the future of the clinic would be, and I certainly didn’t expect Mrs. Dinsmore to already know what her plans were when her husband had just died. And after my fight with Ford, it was the last thing on my mind. At one time, it had been my sole focus. My only goal. But now, I couldn’t even muster up the bare minimum of interest in what the future might hold.
Not when my heart was cracked and bleeding, and the only person I wanted to go to for comfort was the one who’d hurt me in the first place.
I’d had all day yesterday to come to terms with what had happened. With my overreaction and my failure to let Ford explain. Worse was that I hadn’t evenaskedhim to. I’d jumped to conclusions and fled. I’d known the circumstances had made it ripe for me to spiral, but knowing it and being able to do something about it—being able tostopit—were two very different things.
Last night after work, after I’d had time to calm down and ignore those voices in my head, I’d gone back to the cottage with the intention of talking to him and getting everything out in the open. Figuring out where the hell we stood and where we went from here. Because real or not, we were married, and that meant deciding our future wasn’t going to be easy.
I’d stayed up until 2 a.m., sitting in the chair in the living room and staring out the window, waiting for his headlights to shine through. Only, his Jeep never pulled up in front of the cottage. He never stepped inside. We never talked.
Because Ford never came home.
I’d been called an old soul more than once in my life, but I was certain that descriptor had less to do with my soul and more to do with the childhood I’d somehow survived. In my experience, old souls were just people who’d lived more in their short lives than most did over the course of decades.
And inmyshort life, the lesson I’d learned over and over again was that people didn’t love me the way I needed to be loved—with confidence and assurances and unwavering loyalty… I’d learned that people didn’t choose me.
Ford had just reiterated what I already knew.
No matter how many therapist visits I’d gone to, or how many years had passed since I’d become aware of those negative thoughts and actively worked against them, they were still my default, especially in times of high stress. Still the whisper in the back of my mind that reminded me of all my faults. Of all the reasons Ford wouldn’t stay.
Ofcoursehe wouldn’t stay…
I didn’t know where he’d spent the night, and I couldn’t bring myself to ask Beck, too scared of what he’d say. That Ford was with that other woman. That I’d finally pushed him away. That he’d realized I wasn’t worth the trouble.
That none of this had been worth the trouble.
So, I’d avoided. I’d barely slept and had left before the sun had even risen. I’d taken a sunrise yoga class with Luna on the beach, then headed into town with the sole purpose of keeping my mind occupied all day. It was Saturday, so the clinic was closed, which meant I couldn’t even fall back on work to fill my time.
Instead, I swung by the café on Main Street, picked up a latte and a muffin, and headed to the gazebo in the park. Maybe not my best idea since I had a front row view of the firehouse from here, but Ford wasn’t on duty today, so at least I didn’t have to worry about seeing him.
Climbing the steps and settling onto the bench that wrapped around the interior of the gazebo felt like déjà vu. In high school, this was the place I’d escaped to when I’d been avoiding going home.
And there had been alotof nights I’d avoided going home.
I’d loved the peace of it here, with the distant lullaby of the ocean and the hum of Starlight Cove residents as they wandered the streets of downtown. But mostly, I’d just loved that my parents weren’t there. That I didn’t have to listen to their thinly veiled insults tearing me down. Reminding me I wasn’t good enough. That I’d never be good enough.
It had always been quiet and serene here… Or it had been whenever Ford hadn’t been nearby, which he’d tended to be with alarming frequency. Of all the times I’d wanted to strangle him with my bare hands—and I’d wanted to do that a lot—at least half of them had happened right here. Where he’d argued with me about absolutely nothing while playing catch with his brother. One time, he’d debated me for fifteen minutes about the pen I’d been using on my homework, as if it had caused him personal distress.
How sad was it that I wanted to have those stupid arguments with him again? Wanted that low-level hum of competition that always radiated between us. Wanted the safety, the familiarity our relationship had been providing me for years, even before this fake marriage.
I couldn’t stop the tears from filling my eyes, but I bit my lip to keep them from falling and swallowed down the lump in my throat. The last thing I needed was someone showing up and asking why I was crying. So I put myself back together, sorting everything I was feeling about Ford into a neat little box and closing the lid tight.
