Could there be life after Zane?
Right now all I wanted was him.
After a while, I got hungry. I wandered out of the bedroom without bothering to find my clothes, padding barefoot through the farmhouse in nothing but the sheet I’d dragged with me.
I headed to the kitchen and made a snack, then tried to imagine if this wasmyhouse.
The kitchen was worn and warm, with a cast-iron pan hanging on the wall and a window above the sink that looked out over the acreage. Everything in the house was solid and simple, and built to last.
It felt grounding in a way my high-rise condo with Wade never had.
I drifted into the narrow hallway beside the kitchen and stopped. The edge of the wall was marked up in pencil, a series of horizontal lines climbing well above my head, each one labeled with a different name.Tommy, age 4. Tommy, age 5. Tommy, age 6.
There were dates going back decades, the pencil faded in places, and I counted at least four different names there.
I could almost imagine where small shoulders had pressed back against the wall, standing as straight and tall as they possibly could, proud of every inch they gained.
Lena had been the shortie of the bunch, and Tommy had grown up tall. David and April came in the middle.
Afamilyhad lived here.
And suddenly I knew without any indecision.
I wantedthis.
Not the Chicago job with the corner office. I wantedthis. A house with pencil marks on the wall and the man who owned it.
I wanted Zane.
The realization settled into me.
But the question that had been tearing me apart all morning wasn’t whether I wanted to stay. It was whether Zanewantedme to.
He’d asked how much time he had left with me like a man counting down to something he’d already accepted. Not like a man who was asking me to choose him.
If I offered to stay, would he want me to? I had to find out.
Chapter 8
Zane
Every muscle in my body was screaming by the time I pulled down the gravel drive, and I was glad for it.
Pain was useful. Pain kept a man focused on the present instead of on the things he couldn’t have.
After a full day running a chainsaw, my shoulders felt like someone had driven railroad spikes through them, and still the ache in my chest hadn’t budged a single inch.
I’d worked the crew hard today. Harder than usual. And man, I’d wished Amos still worked for me. Because he would’ve distracted everyone with his stupid jokes.
Instead, their moods had soured right alongside mine.
Today Ihadn’tbeen a good boss.
My headlights swept across the yard as I turned in, and I saw it immediately.
Her SUV was still parked right where it had been this morning.
I sat in the truck for a moment, staring at it.
