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“What do I do?” The words came out raw.
“You go tell her the truth,” Brandon said. “You apologize for being an idiot. You tell her how you feel. And then you give her a reason to stay that has nothing to do with guilt or obligation.”
“What if she says no?”
“Then at least you tried,” Jake said. “At least you didn't let fear make the decision for you. Again.”
Wayne looked between his two best friends—the guys who'd known him since high school, who'd watched him retreat after his mother died, who'd tried to pull him back out after Amanda left.
“She deserves better than me,” he said quietly.
“Probably,” Jake agreed. “But she chose you anyway. The question is whether you're brave enough to choose her back.”
Wayne drove to the Hartley house with his heart pounding and no idea what he was going to say.
The house was dark except for a light over the garage. Jess's apartment.
He forced himself out of the truck and climbed the exterior stairs.
His knock sounded too loud in the quiet night.
Nothing.
He knocked again.
The door opened. Jess stood there in sleep shorts and an oversized t-shirt, her hair messy, her eyes red like she'd been crying.
“Wayne.” Her voice was flat. “What are you doing here?”
“I need to talk to you.” His voice came out rough. “Please.”
She hesitated, then stepped back to let him in.
The apartment was tiny. Jess crossed the room and closed her laptop, but not before he glimpsed the Golden Gate Bridge on the screen.
“Jake told me,” Wayne said. “About the job offer.”
“He had no right—”
“I'm glad he did. Because otherwise I might not have realized until you were already gone.” Wayne moved closer. “Jess, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.”
“For what, specifically?” Her arms crossed defensively. “For pushing me away? For blaming me for what my grandparents did? For making me feel like I did something wrong?”
“All of it.” Wayne forced himself to meet her gaze. “You didn't do anything wrong. Your grandparents were worried, and they overreacted, but you just mentioned something that happened. That's normal.” He took a shaky breath. “I panicked. Not because of the inspection—the barn passed fine. I panicked because things were getting real. Because letting you into my space meant letting you into my life, and that meant risking—”
“Risking what?”
“Risking caring about someone who could leave. Who could decide I'm not enough.” The words hurt less than they used to, but they still stung. “Amanda told me I wasn't enough. That she couldn't do it—the firefighter life, the small town. She said she deserved better. And I've spent years believing her.”
“I'm not Amanda,” Jess said quietly.
“I know. You're everything. You make me want things I thought I'd given up on. You make that barn feel like home instead of just a place to hide. You make me happy, Jess. Really happy. And that terrifies me.”
“Because you think I'll leave.”
“Because I think you should.” He saw her flinch and rushed on. “You've got this offer—this real career opportunity in San Francisco. And what do I have to offer? A barn and some metalwork and a guy who's too scared to—”
“Stop.” Jess's eyes were bright with tears. “Stop telling me what I should want. Stop deciding for me that you're not enough. That's not your call to make.”
