In effect until forever
“You had to put up a sign for that?” he asked.
I huffed out a breath. “You know how well your sister listens.”
He glanced back at the chalkboard. “The jam flight. Those are hers?”
“Yeah.”
“And the Black Cat?”
I shrugged.
He blew out a breath and shook his head. “She’s all over every inch of this bar.”
“She’s all over every inch ofme.” I rubbed my wedding band without thinking. “She has been since the day I met her.”
Beau studied me, his gaze assessing, and then he blew out a breath and cupped the back of his neck. “Shit, man. I knew you had it bad, but I didn’t know it wasthisbad.”
“Yeah, well,” I said. “I did a damn good job pretending I didn’t.”
“Fuck. I’m sorry.” He scrubbed a hand down his face, and I realized how goddamn tired he looked. A trip halfway around the world would do that to a person. “I just… I wanted to protect her. She’s been alone since I left and?—”
His words hit, knocking the air out of my lungs.
“Fuck me, she’s beenalone.” I stood up too fast, the stool screeching across the floor behind me. “And Ileft.”
I grabbed the folder off the bar and clapped a hand on Beau’s shoulder. “Would love to stay while you pull your head out of your ass about what a dick brother you’ve been, but I need to get to your sister.”
And then I was striding out the door and straight for my car. Because I’d made a promise—maybe not out loud, maybe not in the vows we’d recited at the beginning of all this—but one I’d meant with everything I had.
I wasn’t leaving Willa. Not ever.
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
WILLA
Willa:
You find him? Is he okay?
Never mind. Don’t answer that.
I’m not asking about him.
I need to talk to YOU.
We’re not done. Text me back. Unless you’re too scared.
Beau:
Jesus, Willa. You always did punch first and ask questions later.
I’m around. Just say when.
The silo creaked softlyin the breeze, like it was breathing with me. Or for me. Because god knew I was having a hard enough time doing that on my own.
The only light came from the pendant above the island, casting a warm, golden circle over the mess I’d made. Ink-smeared paper, thanks to my tears that kept falling. An empty wine bottle. My name in shaky handwriting. A pen I kept gripping like it might save me.
