But that's how it started last time, too.
The thought walks into my head uninvited, and I hate it.
Six months in he asked me to quit training. Said the travel was hard on him.
I quit that part of my life because I loved my ex-husband and he was charming and he had aplan, and I trusted his plan over mine, and by the time I noticed I'd handed him the steering wheel I was already in the passenger seat of my own life.
I am not getting back in that seat. Not for anybody.
"I can’t do that," I say.
His brow begins to furrow.
"I can't do it that way, Beck." My voice is shaking and I don’t have the energy to hide it. "I’m not in a place where I can make a decision this big with a man—even a good one. The last time I let a man have an opinion about my life, I lost two years of it. I can't risk it."
"Laurel—"
"If I'm gonna rebuild myself, I have to do itby myself. I have to know it'smine. Otherwise it's just another life I built with somebody else in control, and one day I'll wake up and not know which parts of it are me anymore."
He's so quiet it hurts. The rocker doesn't even squeak.
Then he nods, once and glances down at his hands.
"Okay, darlin'." He scrubs one palm down his scruffy jaw. "I hear you. And I respect your decision. I don'tlikeit. But I respect it."
He looks up and his dark eyes are wet. It nearly makes me crumble on the spot.
"I also think you should go today," he says. “Maybe after one last ride on Riot.”
“But—”
"If we sit here for the rest of the month, pretendin' nothin's changed, I'll just fall harder, and you'll just feel worse, and we'll do the same goodbye then that we're doin' now, with even more damage on top of it. There's no use in doing that to either of us." He gives me a weak smile. "Might as well pull the bandage clean off, darlin'."
"So you're firing me?" I ask, trying to make a joke.
"No, I'm letting you go," he says, and I hear the lump in his throat.
"Okay," I say, fighting the tears. "I'll go pack and then take Riot out."
I open the screen door before he says, "Laurel."
I turn around. “For what it's worth…I think you're makin' the right call. For you."
"Thanks," I whisper, and I open the door before he can say anything else and make me collapse right here on the floor.
CHAPTER 7
BECK
Two days.
That's how long it's been since Laurel’s tail lights cut the dark at the end of my drive.
The cabin's too quiet. It’s as if somebody scooped out the inside of every room and left the walls behind. I keep reaching for things that aren't where I expect them to be—a coffee mug she rinsed and set on a different shelf since it was more efficient for the flow of the kitchen. Or the salt she moved three inches because she liked it closer to the stove when she cooked.
Stupid stuff. Domestic stuff, I never noticed before.
I haven't slept right, either.
