But the question my emotionally depleted brain keeps asking is, why did she arrive with Nate?
I knew something was wrong, and this change of events only solidifies it. I need to get myself together. I’m no use if I can’t form a proper sentence for answers.
Because I sure as fuckwillbe getting answers.
I’m just not sure I’ll like them.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
cove
“The pain of parting is nothing to the joy of meeting again.”
Charles Dickens
Shakes wrack through my body.
I know if I check the mirror, my mauve lipstick will either be horrifyingly smeared or clinging to my teeth from biting my cheeks. It doesn’t help that the car ride has been silent. I was forced to sit between Nathaniel and Austin while Harrison rode shotgun, purely to see us off for the next six days.
With my arms banded at my waist, I attempt to make myself smaller to avoid touching either of the men beside me. The emotions coming from none other than the wise words of Charles Dickens, firing off in my mind some of my favorite quotes and sayings, providing the mental distraction I long for. All leaning toward the more morbid side of English literature.
Not quite sure this feels similar to the joy you mention, Sir Charles.
But I had to focus on something good. Something familiar. I’m too far from home, and I got myself into this mess. It’s on me to get myself out of it.
The moment Bryan drove us through the large pipe gates with a sign above readingColeson Ranch, I knew I wouldn’t survive. It’s odd to feel both sick to my stomach yet thrilled to see Stetson after missing him.
Although, he may hate me at the rate I’ve ignored him. But I have my reasons, and knowing I’ll see him makes me terrified I’ll spill all my little secrets and ruin this for my mom.
I can handle being forced to pretend I’m something I’m not for a short period of time. The thing putting my emotions in overdrive is that I’m forced to do that while staying at the home of the man I’m almost certain I’m falling for.
Or at least I really, really like.
A chilling sensation washes over me, replacing my nausea with shame. I can spot Stetson instantly, the window tint doing nothing to mask the man who somehow manages to command a space even silently.
His black cowboy hat rests high upon his head, the same simple Southern style I’ve come to appreciate, spiced up a bit more than usual. A dress button-down replaces his normal white or black tee, and I’m almost positive I spot a hint of color in the muted print.
I wish I were in a position to tell him how handsome he looks.
Leaving him in Chicago left me feeling sore—and I don’t mean my body. Although that, too. My heart felt sore. Like it could predict the pain to come.
Message received.
The car pulls to a stop in front of the dimly lit outdoor space, and it hits me like a ton of bricks that this is Stetson’shome. His ranch. The place he told me about in confidence that means the world to him.
And I can’t even appreciate it.
His smile is bright, and men who seem comfortable around him laugh while sipping beer and enjoying the beauty of the night. It’s Stetson’s fiftieth birthday. He deserves this.
And here I am, about to fuck it all up for him.
His text message from earlier replays in my mind. I had to toss my phone in my clutch and place it at my feet to keep from answering him back.
I wanted to so badly.
Now, I’m destined to watch the man who’s spent the past three months pursuing me consistently, witness me on the arm of another man. Pretending to date another man. A man who sadly isn’t him.
I’m a horrible person. And now I’m just expected to lie to him about it?
