“Bullshit.” Her voice cracks. Her hands ball into fists at her sides. “You’re not here for the earring. Don’t lie to me.”
The words hit like a slap. Physical. Deserved.
She’s right. Of course she’s right. My throat closes up.
“I—”
“What, Dean? What possible reason—”
She stops. Laughs, but it’s sharp and not at all amused. Tears gather in her eyes but don’t fall. Not yet. I always knew how strong she was, but this cements it for me.
“You told me to be careful. Remember? Your big goodbye. ‘Be careful.’ Like I was some… some stranger you were sending into traffic.”
“That’s not—”
“Then you let me leave.” Her voice drops to almost nothing. “Let me walk away thinking I imagined everything. The way you looked at me. The way we—”
She breaks off. Inhales a shaky breath. Wraps her arms around herself like she’s cold despite the summer heat.
“And now you’re here? With an earring? Like that makes sense?”
I shift, knowing how badly I’ve messed this up. “Nothing about this makes sense.”
“Next you’re going to tell me you came because Muffin misses me.”
My mouth twitches. “She does, but that’s beside the—”
“Then why—”
“Because I’m an idiot.”
That stops her. Her mouth opens. Closes. A tear finally escapes, tracking down her cheek.
“What?”
“I’m an idiot.”
The words pour out now. I can’t stop them. My hands shake as I shove them in my pockets.
“A coward. A disaster who’s spent years convinced I was too smart to need what everyone else wants. Too evolved. And too… broken, maybe.”
She’s still. Watching. Another tear falls. She doesn’t wipe it away.
“I sat in that house after you left, and it was exactly what I wanted, right?”
I laugh, but it sounds wrong. Hollow.
“Peace. Quiet. No chaos. No goats. No woman reorganizing my life and making me feel things I specifically decidednotto feel.”
“Dean—”
“And it was hell.” The words scrape out. “Complete hell. Because it turns out I don’t want quiet. I want you arguing with me about tent placement. I want you covered in goat… muck. I want you on my couch eating sandwiches and making everything complicated.”
“You said—”
“I know what I said. I lied.” I step closer. She doesn’t back away. “To you. To myself. To everyone. Because it was easier than admitting the truth.”
“Which is?” Her gaze is on mine.
