“No,” he replied aloud, irritation pushing through him at the memory of those horrible moments in the diner. Easton might have felt ready to address what he’d walked away from, but now that the option was before him, the access line right in his palm, the desire fled faster than a fox on a hunt. He glanced down at her final text.
Chantelle:If you won’t call me, you at least need to call Ivy and give her a chance to explain. You owe her that.
Easton rolled his eyes. Now the two were in cahoots?
He clicked on the thread of texts from the unknown caller next, half wondering if it’d be Ivy texting from another phone in hopes to get a response. It wasn’t.
Unknown Number:This is Marsha Langston, producer ofLooking For Love. As it stands, the station has a hefty case against you for breaking your contract. One that could take down the rehab facility—I’d hate to see that happen. But I’ve got an offer for you. A way out of your contract without repercussion. I’ll even throw in a hefty donation to the facility. Please call right away as this offer is time sensitive.
“Great.” Easton shook his head and groaned. He didn’t feel like making any deals. But how could he forgive himself if the rehab center took a hit for his mistake? And was that how he viewed all of this—as a mistake? If he could take the whole thing back, his agreement to follow through with the interview, all those hours with Ivy in the yurt, would he do it?
He moved onto the next text by the same number.
Unknown Number:Marsha Langston again. What did you do to my poor Ivy? She burst into tears at the sight of your photo.
The words were a sharp punch to the gut. One that had Easton bracing himself too late against the pain. Maybe betraying him hadn’t been such an easy thing for her. At least there was that. If she did, in fact, get emotional at the sight of his image, it said shedidhave real feelings for him after all. But had he doubted that? Not with any sincerity, he hadn’t. But in the end she cared more about her job than she did him.
Still, it went beyond that. Because the betrayal would send Easton into a situation where he’d be, by name of the show, looking for love. Just the mere thought of Ivy going on the show like she had in his dream sent fire-hot darts through his heart. He’d do anything topreventsuch a thing. That’s what hurt most of all. The idea that she not only didn’t mind the thought of him pursuing other women, she was the one who’d sentenced him to that fate.
So was she having misgivings? Did she regret doing what she’d promisednotto do? With his insides in knots, a pounding in his head, and a nagging ache in his heart, Easton scrolled down to read the next text from the show’s producer.
Unknown Number:Marsha again. Listen, I don’t know if you’re playing hardball or if you’re stuck in a klondike cave like some boy scout on the run. You had misgivings after signing the contract. That’s understandable. But forget that for a minute. If you care about Ivy at all, if you feel there was really something between the two of you, you need to stop running, stop hiding, and talk to her face-to-face. Or were you just faking the whole time? Hoping to seduce her so she’d hide the interview and the contract you later regretted signing?
His stomach lurched. A curse fell from his lips. “Why’d she have to bring Ivy into it?” And the accusation too.Seduceher—was she crazy? And to accuse him of faking the whole time. This meant Ivy told the producer that they’d gotten…close.
Great.
Every physical part of him was in turmoil. From the rattling rhythm of his heart to the sharp and tearing pain in his gut. And just what was happening to his head? It felt fuzzy suddenly. And…and…
Easton turned sideways toward the open door on the driver seat, lowered his elbows to his knees, and dropped his head to catch some slow and steady breaths. How was he going to fix this? If Marsha was convinced he’d seduced Ivy to keep her from sending in his contract, could Ivy be thinking along those same lines? But that would be ridiculous.Shewas the one who’d offered to not send it. As aChristmasgift, no less.
Some gift. And what now, she’d turned around and claimed he’d seduced her into withholding it? Now hereallydidn’t want to read Ivy’s texts. This was even worse than he thought.
He tossed a glance over his shoulder. Upon opening the Jeep, Easton had thrown his items inside before checking his messages. Perhaps, subconsciously, he’d hoped to find something that explained everything away. Sure, he hadn’t read Ivy’s explanation yet, but he didn’t need to now. Marsha’s accusation said it all. He ticked off the offenses in his head one by one.
She’d sent in the contract after saying she wouldn’t.
She’d sent in the video after claiming she’d delete it.
And now, she was blaming him for her delay in handing the stuff over. All so she could get her precious little promotion.
The list was proof that things had ended in disaster just like he’d feared. They’d just ended a whole lot sooner than he imagined. Another bout of disappointment pushed through him. He’d halfway hoped that the messages on his phone—the ones he’d gladly avoided for the last four days—might inspire him to go home after all. As it stood, even Marsha’s threats weren’t enough to lure him back. So things really were over with him and Ivy.
As much as the realization stung, Easton detected hints of relief among the pain. The greater agony, perhaps, was the struggle of making a relationship work. Trying to pursue something that was destined to end in ruin.
But accepting that it was over….well, it meant things would be easier now. Less messy. Less…risky,an inner voice filled in. The word made him feel like a coward. But so what if he was? He’d be a comfortable coward, safe from all the turmoil relationships brought. And who had he been fooling? Had Easton really believed he could change after all this time? And how absurd had it been for him to fall for a woman so thoroughly in just a few short days?
He shook his head. “Ridiculous.” The mere recognition brought Easton one step closer to the man he used to be, and he’d be lying if he said it didn’t feel good.
With a bit of satisfaction, Easton climbed out of the Jeep, taking his gear along with him, and moved to put the phone back in the glovebox. Not that that was necessary; he wouldn’t have cell service back at the campsite anyway. May as well keep it with him.
Yet as he walked away from his Jeep, away from the mess he’d decidednotto address for now, the satisfaction he’d felt a moment ago fled. Loneliness seeped into its place. Cold, dark, and hollow. Guilt slunk in too. Shouldn’t he just read what Ivy sent him? He didn’t have to respond, did he?
In fact, he’d force himselfnotto respond right away. Even better, he’d sleep on it—wait until the next day to send any reply. That way, he wouldn’t say anything he might regret. Yeah, that was good.
So, he’d do it. He’d see what Ivy had to say for herself, and then he’d go right back to his campsite.
Easton flicked his thumb over the screen to get back to his texts. And there it was, Ivy’s simple three-letter name. The affection he felt at the sight of it made his heart cry out once more. A desperate yearning that swelled with each aching thump.
