It was sweet what he did for that picnic. Sebastian planned something so cute, so romantic, and thoughtful. I was blown away until I let myself think about it. Until I let myself see all the special things he had to do for me to put that picnic together. It would always be that way.
Being with me will always be more work than I am worth.
“H-hey, Sebastian,” I sputter his name as if it is our first meeting.
Sebastian hears it. As I feared, he hears the lies, the fear, the ready-to-run tone in my voice. Tears sting my eyes, so I look away, refusing to make him feel worse than he has to. This is all my doing. If I had never flirted that first day at the bar, we might not be here now.
“What is going on? Why...honey, why does it look like you might be packing up to leave town? Have I missed something?”
Shaking my head, I kick at the ground. I had not figured out what I was going to say to him in my head. I thought I had more time. More time to come up with a way to pin the blame on me. Whatever it took not to hurt him. Now, as he watches me, I see that hurting him is inevitable.
“No, no, you didn’t...I mean I am... what I mean is,” steeling myself as my words sputter out and I let out a sigh, I look at him at last. “I am leaving. We never talked about time or how long I would be here. We should have, because this is not fair to you. I need to go. I never planned to stay here.”
Sebastian’s beautiful brown eyes go midnight black. His fists flex at his sides, his powerful arms coiling as he moves closer. I take a step back. I am not afraid of him. He would never hurt me. But I am afraid that if he touches me, I won’t be able to do what I have to.
If he touches me, if he says the right words, I won’t be able to go.
“Oh, we talked about time. I am sure I made it very clear this was for good. This is not ending because I did something wrong or said something wrong. You do not run off on me because it gets tough or weird. We figure it out. That is what grown-ups do in a grown-up relationship, Scout.”
Flinching at his tone, I glare up at him. “Well, I guess I am not very good at being a grown-up, Sebastian. Sorry to let you down.”
Turning from him, I stomp towards my Vespa without bothering to grab anything else from upstairs. I am on the edge of falling apart as I climb on, my body aching as I kick start the scooter. I cannot believe I am doing this. That I am leaving him. Leaving Driftwood. Leaving a place I had hoped to call home. As I sail past him on the Vespa, he shouts something I cannot make out.
Thinking it is for the best, I don’t stop; I do not even slow down. Refusing to chance a look at him, I head for the highway and another new start somewhere else. Somewhere without him, without the new friends I made, and without the sense of home I had found with him. Never looking back, I get past the county line before I let myself fall apart.
Because what do I do now that I’ve left the town, the people, and the man I love behind?
Chapter Nine
Sebastian
Watching something you love vanish is a hell I would not wish on my worst enemies.
Scout sailed out of town, out of my life, as if she did not leave a huge, empty, Scout-shaped hole in her wake. It was bound to happen; I suppose. From the very start, she had her eyes on the horizon. I was not enough to keep her here, and that cut me deep.
It has been just a few days without her, but it might as well be years. I am on edge, my body aches from trying to hold my shattered heart together, and I have not slept in days. Being out on the landing has become more dangerous than ever because I cannot focus on anything I am doing.
“Go home,” Hardy tells me for the third day. He is being a hell of a lot more patient than I deserve. “Go home or go find her. Whatever will make you better, you cannot be up here in this state. You will hurt someone, and you do not want that on your head.”
Nodding at him, I turn off my baler and climb down. I have no business being up here now. I am exhausted, my vision is unfocused, and I am wound so tight I could explode at any moment. None of the guys up here deserve that. They have all been understanding, but I am over the line now, I have gone too far. I might not have a place up on this landing after this.
On the way home, I think of a dozen ways to fix things. I could go after her. Hell, I started to that night. I just...after all we had shared, I was livid she could just leave. I am not prideful. I could have gone after her and gotten on my knees to beg her to come home. I said I’d never do that again, but for her, for my Scout, I would live my life on my knees if I had to.
“Can’t go chasing after someone who doesn’t want to be caught.”
Shifting the truck into park, I shake my head. I do not want to go inside. It still feels like she is there. That sweet strawberry scent of hers is on my sheets, on the bed, on my own damn skin. No amount of cold showers, laundry, scrubbing the place down, can ever wash her out of my life.
Climbing from the truck, I slam the door behind me, watching as the echo sends a flock of birds fluttering towards the skies. It’s a cool day out with the storm season brewing in the west. I am looking forward to the bad weather that slows Driftwood to a halt. Give me time to heal.
Stomping up the stairs, I kick my boots off outside the door before I reach for the handle. I pause, seeing the door is not fully closed. A prickle of fear races up my spine. Kicking the door open slightly, I reach a hand in for the gun I have stashed inside the coat rack. If it is a bear, the shotgun will do no good, but it will do just fine for anything else inside.
Busting through the door, I raise up the shotgun and aim. I drop it immediately as I stagger backwards. There is a creature inside, no doubt. One I never expected to see again. Standing in the kitchen—wearing my fucking sweatshirt—is the woman I want to always come home to.
Scout turns, throwing her hands up. “Don’t shoot. I screwed up pretty bad, but I think a firing squad is harsh punishment.”
Glaring at her, I try to calm my thudding heart. Try to shake off the shudder working its way through me. The entire cabin smells of her sweet strawberry scent, and the fire she managed to get going. I turn, slamming the door behind me as I put the gun back where I got it from. I am stalling. Buying time to figure out what the hell to say to her.
“Where the hell did you go? Why the hell did you come back?”
