“Even so, I am leaving once Avery is arrested.”
Connie raised an eyebrow. “Are you?”
Aftyn opened her mouth and found she didn’t have an answer. Connie turned back to the stove without waiting for one.
Aftyn sighed. “As if Avery wasn’t enough to dealwith.”
Chapter Thirteen
Cole was halfway across the gravel from the barn when he heard tires on the drive. He didn’t recognize the car. He peeled off his work gloves, tucked them in his back pocket, and folded his arms to wait.
The engine cut. The door swung open.
He clenched his jaw before it could do anything else. There was no mistaking her. Blonde hair, that particular way she carried herself. Callie. His stomach went hollow in a way that had nothing to do with wanting her back and everything to do with the memory of what she’d cost him.
She had a white paper bag in her hand, the Clifton Diner stamp across the front in red. She walked toward him with that tentative smile he remembered, like she already knew he’d soften.
“Hello, Cole.”
He kept his arms folded. “What are you doing here?”
She tilted her head. “I told you I’d see you soon.”
“I figured that meant Thanksgiving.”
“I changed my mind.” She lifted the bag slightly. “I got your usual.”
The smell of it reached him on the breeze. He didn’t move. “I’m not hungry. You made the trip for nothing, Callie.”
He turned toward the house.
“Cole.” Her voice cracked just enough on his name. “Please. Could we just talk?”
He stopped. Turned back. “About what?”
She closed some of the distance between them, her eyes steady on his. “About whether there’s any way to make this work. Whether there’s anything left worth trying for.”
The air between them sat heavy and still.
Cole’s jaw tightened. He dropped his head for a moment, then raised it slowly and closed the distance between them until he was close enough to see the uncertainty in her eyes.
“There’s nothing to make work, Callie. You came back because I’m seeing someone and that bothers you. That’s the only reason you’re here.”
“You didn’t tell me it was serious.”
“I didn’t tell you anything. It’s not your business. You walked out too many times and I’m done with that.” He held her gaze. “You need to go.”
“Can you look me in the eye and tell me you don’t love me anymore?”
He stepped closer and let her hold his stare as long as she wanted. Her perfume reached him on the evening air, familiar and distant at the same time. “I don’t love you anymore.”
Tears rose in her eyes. “I don’t believe you.”
“I don’t need you to.” He turned and climbed the porch steps, each one creaking under his boots, and went inside.
He sat down on the bench by the door and listened to his own heartbeat settle. Through the glass he heard her engine start and the crunch of tires moving back down the drive. He knew she’d be back. Callie didn’t let go of things easily. But he also knew, with a quiet certainty that surprised him with how solid it felt, that he wouldn’t take her back. He didn’t love her. He loved Aftyn.
“And she’s going to leave your ass too,” he muttered at the empty kitchen.
