Chapter 40
40
DEAN
I saw Portia coming before she even got out of her car. There was a part of me that knew what was coming. The way she walked—shoulders squared, chin lifted—told me everything I needed to know. The email had come. The offer was real. I had avoided her last night because I knew this was the conversation she wanted to have. I had tried to stay away from her so it wouldn’t happen. Sticking my head in the sand was never going to work. I knew that, but it gave me some time to process and prepare.
When I heard that phone call yesterday, the fragile little fantasy I’d let myself believe in was over. Staying busy was the only way I could keep myself from spiraling. Maybe if I didn’t look at her, I could pretend this wasn’t happening.
Her ambitions were never here in this town. I knew that deep down. I’m not the sort of guy to expect or ask her to give up such a great offer all because I want her here. I’m also not the sort to follow a woman to pursue her dreams when my roots are firmly planted here. And San Francisco? That sounds like my version of hell. I know I can be a grumpy asshole as it is. Throw me into that inferno and I’ll be infinitely worse. She’d grow to resent me, and possibly hate me. It’s better to avoid that.
“Dean?” she whispered. Her eyes were pleading with me.
“It sounds like a great opportunity,” I said. “The dream job, right?”
“Well, yes. In a way.”
“Then you should take it,” I said. “That sounds right up your alley.”
I reached for the pull cord and yanked it hard enough I nearly pulled it clean off. The mower roared to life and I went back to mowing the lawn.
I felt her hand on my shoulder. I stopped walking but kept the mower running. She jerked my hands off the handle, cutting the engine again. I should have known there was no way she was just going to let me walk away that easily.
“Are you saying I should take the job?” she asked.
“Of course. It’s what you want. What you’ve always worked for.” My voice sounded foreign to my own ears—cold, detached, like I was negotiating a contract. “Chances like this only come once.”
Portia looked like I had slapped her. My guts twisted in knots. I had to look away. I wanted to reach for her, hug her, and tell her everything was okay.
But it wasn’t.
“Are we… is this over?” The question was honest and painful at the same time.
But if there was one thing I was good at, beyond building motorcycles, it was detaching. I could distance myself from pesky emotions. Feelings made me weak. I couldn’t afford to be emotionally invested in her or the situation. I had to take a giant step back proverbially and physically.
Her hand went to her hips. She glared at me, waiting for me to answer her. It was time to break her heart. I could practically feel the ice coating my own heart as I pulled back.
“You know this place isn’t right for you. Me either. I’m not someone you settle down with. I was na?ve for thinking it could work.” The lie tasted bitter. “It was fun while it lasted, though. You’re fun. We had fun together, but I told you before I didn’t do relationships and shit like that.”
“Fun?” She choked out the word like it burned her throat. “That’s it? Fun ?”
I forced a smirk. “Did you not have fun?”
Her eyes searched mine, and for a second, I thought she might actually swing at me. Instead, she just shook her head. “Wow.”
“What?”
“You’re really doing this?” Her voice cracked. “Just shutting down like none of it mattered?”
I crossed my arms, my pulse hammering against my ribs. “What do you want me to say, Portia? That I’ll move to San Francisco? Follow you around like some lost puppy?” I barked out a laugh. “That’s not me. You know that.”
“So that’s it?” Her hands clenched at her sides. “No discussion? No trying to figure something out?”
“There’s nothing to figure out.” The words came out sharper than I meant. “You’ve got one life. You really want to spend it tied to some small-town mechanic who’d hate every second of city living? You and I were never going to last. Even if you stayed, this thing would be over by the end of summer. That’s the way it goes.”
Her eyes widened, and for a moment, I thought she might cry. I braced myself for it, ready to weather the storm of her tears. But instead, her jaw tightened, and she squared her shoulders. Good. Anger was better. Anger would make it easier for her to walk away.
“Don’t do that,” she said, her voice low and trembling. “Don’t act like this is nothing. Like we’re nothing.”
I shrugged, forcing my face into something neutral, casual, like this conversation wasn’t tearing me apart from the inside. “It is what it is, Portia. We had a good time. That’s all it was.”
She took a step closer, her green eyes burning into mine. “You don’t get to decide that for me. You don’t get to tell me what this was or wasn’t.”
“You’re right,” I said, my tone flat. “But I do get to decide what it is for me. And for me? It’s done.”
Her breath hitched, and I could see the hurt flash across her face before she masked it with anger. “You’re such a coward,” she spat.
“That’s fair,” I replied, stuffing my hands into my pockets to keep from reaching for her. “But at least I’m honest about it.”
“Honest?” She let out a bitter laugh. “You’re not being honest, Dean. You’re running. Just like you always do.”
I didn’t flinch, though the words stung more than I cared to admit. I stared at her, my jaw clenched tight. “I’m not running. I’m being realistic. You can’t expect me to drop everything and follow you to San Francisco. I have a business here. Don’t you find it selfish of you to expect me to do that?”
“I never even mentioned it!” She threw her hands in the air. “You’re the one who brought that up. Not me!”
“Oh, I see, so you expected me to sit here with my thumb up my ass while you wine and dine wealthy men in the big city. You pop in for a visit once a month or whenever you have time?”
She stared at me. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“You don’t even know me, Portia. You sure as hell can’t trust me.”
“I can’t trust you?” Her eyes narrowed. “What does that mean?”
“I’m not the settling down kind,” I said with a shrug. “I like women. I don’t see myself ever being the type to be in a committed relationship, let alone one with a woman on the other side of the country. I have needs, Portia. If you’re not here to handle those needs, what do you think I’m going to do? It’s not even that I would want to cheat, but I just know me. I know me better than you do.”
Her hands balled into fists at her sides. “You don’t even try, Dean. You don’t even consider that maybe—just maybe—we could figure something out. Like adults.”
“There’s nothing to consider or figure out,” I snapped, my voice rising despite myself. “You’re leaving. End of story.”
“Because you’re making it that way!” she shot back, her voice cracking with frustration. “You’re so damn stubborn, so convinced that your way is the only way, that you don’t even bother to see if there’s another option.”
“There is no other option!” I barked, stepping closer to her without thinking. The air between us felt charged, like a storm about to break. “You want me to leave this town? Leave my shop? Leave everything I’ve built? For what? To sit in some overpriced apartment while you work eighty-hour weeks and forget I exist? That’s not me, Portia. That’s not who I am.”
“And what about me?” she demanded, her voice trembling now. “What about what I want? You think you get to decide that for me? You think you get to tell me what’s best for my life?”
“I’m not telling you shit,” I said. “You asked if you should take the job and I told you yes. It’s smart. It’s a good move. You’re young. You have your whole life ahead of you. No good friend would tell you to stick around here with some loser who can’t be the man you deserve.”
Her eyes flashed, and for a moment, I thought she might scream. Instead, she took a step closer, her voice low and dangerous. We were practically nose to nose. “Don’t you dare call yourself a loser. Don’t you dare . That’s not what this is about, and you know it. This is about you being too scared to even try. You’re so afraid of failing that you’d rather push me away than risk getting hurt. That’s the real truth, isn’t it?”
I didn’t appreciate her getting so damn close to the truth. “You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”
“Don’t I?” she shot back, her voice rising. “You think I haven’t seen the way you shut down every time things get real? The way you keep everyone at arm’s length because it’s easier than letting them in? You think I don’t see that this—this thing between us scares the hell out of you because you actually care? Well, guess what, Dean? It scares me too. But at least I’m willing to admit it.”
I stared at her, my pulse pounding in my ears. Her words hit like a punch to the gut, but I wouldn’t let her see it. I couldn’t. “You think this is about fear?” I said coldly. “This is about reality. You have a chance to start over in San Francisco. You have a chance to build something real, something big. And I’m not going to be the guy who holds you back.”
“Stop!” she shouted.
I did. We both did. We both stood there, breathing heavily and trying not to look at each other.
I took a deep breath. “I don’t know what you want from me,” I said.
Her eyes glistened. “I wanted you to fight for me.”
Something in my chest splintered. “Why? So I can be the reason you wake up at forty wondering ‘what if’?” I shook my head. “I won’t do that to you.”
Portia swiped at her cheeks angrily. “You don’t get to make that choice for me.”
“I’m not.” I took a step back, putting distance between us before I caved. “I’m making it for me . This is never going to work. You’re never really going to be settled. You started the business and that made you happy, but now you’re looking for the next career high. Take it. You do you.”
The silence that followed was suffocating.
Finally, Portia straightened. I saw the change in her demeanor. She had just cut me out. Blocked me out. “Fine. It was fun , Dean.” She turned and started back to her car but stopped and turned back to look at me again. “But you can tell yourself it didn’t mean anything until you’re blue in the face. We both know it was more than that.” She glanced back, her eyes red-rimmed. “And fuck you for pretending otherwise. That hurts.” Her voice broke. “That really fucking hurts.”
Then she was gone.
Every instinct screamed to go after her, to take it all back. But I stayed rooted in place.
Because she was right—it had meant something. That was exactly why I had to let her go. She deserved to follow her dreams. I was stuck here. I had to deal with Seth and my business. I can’t be the thing that she chooses to stay for. I’m not worth it. I know that, even if she doesn’t.