“Right. Sorry. This is bad. She doesn’t just leave like this. She’s been so good at letting me know if she’s working outside of cell service.”
“I would try her parents’ house. Maybe she’s over there and just planning on spending the night.”
“Good idea. Thanks, Charlie.”
“Good luck, and you’d better make things right because I really like Bliss, and I know she really likes you.”
“She told me she loves me this morning,” I say quietly.
“And what did you say?”
I clear my throat, all of a sudden wondering if the guys’ advice wasn’t all that great. “I kissed her hair?” The explanation ends in a question.
Charlie groans. “And you didn’t say it back, did you? Zane, how could you?”
I don’t have any words to defend myself, because it was a bad decision, and I should’ve realized that I loved her the day we got married. Instead, I’ve been a dumbass, trying to pretend like we could have some weird friendship and noncommittal relationship, where we lived together for all our lives.
I’ve still been holding back a big part of my heart, and that’s not fair to Bliss, who made the first move and has been open with me.
She definitely deserves better than me, but I’m going to at least try to be the best version of myself for her.
“Thanks again, Charlie. I’ve got a big mess to fix.”
I hang up the phone, climb into my truck, and drive over to the Flying J Ranch. I walk up the porch steps and knock on the door. The door swings open, and Bliss’s grandpa scowls at me.
“What do you want here?” he demands.
“I was looking for Bliss.”
“Not here.”
He slams the door, and I hear the lock click in place after a couple of tries. It’s probably rusty from lack of use.
I knock again a few minutes later, and Betsy comes to the door. She doesn’t have her usual smile on her face.
“What do you want?” she snaps.
This is not good. If they’re all mad at me, then Bliss is definitely mad at me. And she probably told them the truth of our circumstances, which is exactly what I deserve.
“Where is Bliss?” I ask, because I know they know.
“Why did you marry my daughter?” Betsy asks, ignoring my question.
“I married her because I love her.”
“That’s not what she told me this afternoon.” Betsy slams the door.
I’m left standing on the porch, staring at the cracks in the old door. Bliss must be upstairs in her room; it’s the only explanation for them keeping me out of the house.
I sit down on the bench and make a phone call. “Hey, Charlie. I have something I need you to do.”
“All sorts of favors lately,” she hums. “When do you need it?”
“I need it done by tonight or tomorrow morning.”
“Time sensitive … You have me curious.”
I spend the next few minutes explaining the project, and she agrees to it.
