Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
brOCK
I nstead of going after her and telling her there is nothing else to talk about—fuck, how much more can there be to talk about—I watch her walk away. My heart hammers in my chest so fast that it feels like it’s going to come out of it. My eyes fixate on her as she walks over to her car and gets in. Her hair blows a bit in the wind, and I can admit that my heart aches watching her. I knew it would, knew it would fucking hurt. But again, instead of turning away and saving myself the pain, I’m adding more to it by inviting her into my home. A space that is reserved for Saige and me. A space I longed to have her in, so she could see what I created even though she hated me.
I close my eyes, breathing in deeply. “You okay?” I hear Ryan ask when he walks in with a work order in his hand.
“Yeah.” I nod, tucking the rag in my back pocket. “I’m going to head out,” I say, and he just looks at me with his eyebrows pinched together as he sits on the chair, fixing all of the papers on the front desk and putting them in a pile.
“You have Saige this week?” he asks, knowing that unless I have Saige, I’m always the last one to leave.
“No,” I reply, “but I have something to do.” I don’t give him a chance to ask me anything before I walk back to my office and grab my keys. When I walk back out, he’s still there figuring out all the paperwork and where to put everything. “Leave that. I’m going to see if I can figure it out tomorrow night.”
“Nah,” he says, “I just finished my work order, and it’s too late to start another car, so I’m going to fix this.” He holds up the papers in his hand. “And then head out early unless you need me for anything.”
“I’m good. Take off early,” I say, pushing open the glass door and heading out to my truck. I stop by the grocery store before heading home. Marinating the steaks I bought, I wash the potatoes and then place them in the oven with some carrots before heading back to my bedroom, undressing, and taking a shower.
I don’t think I’ve ever been this nervous before in my life. I don’t even know why I’m that nervous. At almost six o’clock, I open the fridge door to grab myself a beer when I hear a car door slam. My head turns and my eyes immediately go to the front window, where I see her standing there by the driver’s side of the car, parked on the street, looking at the house. I’m sure she’s looking at the changes I’ve done to the front. Like the big glass window that gives the whole house light. Especially with the extension of the two-car garage on one side. The house is painted a bright white with wooden shutters, which is different from the brown it was painted back in the day. I open the beer, watching her from the kitchen as she just looks at the house. I’m wondering if she’s thinking about running away, getting back into the car and taking off. I wouldn’t blame her. Fuck, I might do the same if I was in her shoes. But I watch her take a huge inhale, close her eyes, and then walk back to the back passenger door. She grabs a plate out of the back before making her way up the walkway. I take a pull of the beer and walk toward the door, making it at the same time that she rings the bell.
I pull open the door, and she looks up at me. She is the most beautiful woman I’ve ever set my eyes on. She always has been. Her beauty used to take my breath away, but now it’s so much more. My breath is taken away, but my heart soars in my chest. I know right then and there that I will never love anyone like I love her. She was it for me, and I let her go. I ruined it all. “Hi,” she says with a smile and tears welling in her eyes as she blinks them away.
“Hi,” I say, moving out of the way for her to come in. She steps in, and I smell her perfume, and my dick stirs just by the scent of her. My hands itch to come up and touch her, but I can’t do it to myself. I don’t think I would just stop at touching her. “Welcome,” I add nervously, closing the door behind her. “Come in.”
“Wow,” she declares as she follows me inside and sees the open concept I made the house. “You’ve changed it quite a bit,” she observes. I nod at her, watching her turn, her long, flowered skirt floating around her. The tank top shows off just a touch of her smooth stomach, and I want to get on my knees to kiss her right in the middle and see if she still gets goose bumps from my touch. If she will still shiver. “It’s beautiful,” she finally says, standing looking at the big family room that faces the kitchen. “I made my new donuts.” She holds up the plate, and I lean forward to grab it from her, hoping I can touch her fingers, even if it’s just grazing them. Nothing happens when I take it from her as I look down and see the sugary goodness.
“Do you want something to drink?” I ask as I take the plate to the island, and she looks at me.
“Are you having something?” Her voice is soft as she fidgets with her hands nervously.
“I’m having a beer,” I say, putting the plate down next to the open bottle of beer.
“I’ll have one too, I guess.” I walk over to the fridge, grabbing her one and tossing the cap in the trash before turning to her.
“Cup or bottle?” I know she would always drink out of the bottle back in the day, but she is older. It’s suddenly dawned on me that she had a whole life without me, and I know nothing about it.
“Bottle is fine,” she states, and I walk around and hand it to her.
“Would you like to sit?” I ask, and you could cut the tension with a knife. The air between us is electric, yet there is a huge elephant in the room.
“I think I need to sit,” she admits, walking around and sitting at the edge of the couch. Her hands are on her knees, with the bottle in both hands, as she looks at all the pictures I have of Saige and me, as well as a couple of pictures of my parents. “You’ve made a beautiful home,” she compliments. I can hear the heaviness of her voice at the end, the pain it must have taken to say it.
“Thank you,” I say, bringing the bottle to my lips, “it means a lot.” She takes a pull of her beer, and I’m jealous of a fucking beer bottle.
“So,” I say, sitting in front of her and not beside her, “you said you had questions.”
“I do,” she confirms, and I see her finger peeling off the label. “I want to know it all. What happened? When did it happen? Why didn’t you tell me? I want to know everything, really. I think I need that for me to move on, so we can both move on.”
I swallow down the lump that went from the pit of my stomach to my throat when the words sink in. What if I don’t want to move on, then what? Where will I… “I think we’ll start with the first question,” I say, and I don’t know why, but it’s going to be good to finally get it all out there. “They came to see me in the hospital. I had just gotten there and was yelling for you when Winston came in.” She listens to me. “Pretended to care, see if I was okay. He told me Waylon didn’t make it. He was crushed but then said he had to do what he needed to do to protect his brother and their family. I didn’t understand it at first. Until two weeks later when I went into work. Winston and his father came to see me, said they would like to take me out to lunch.” I shake my head. “I should have known something was happening, but I was still shaken up over what just happened. I was worried about you and how you would be healing. I was worried about Charlie, who was a ticking time bomb, and I was afraid I would wake up and he would be gone too. It was just too much. I think they knew my head wasn’t there. So they took me out to the golf course for lunch. Sat me down, said that I was like a brother to Waylon. Then said there was rumbling that people were going to try to say Waylon was drunk even though his tox report came back clean. They wanted to make sure I would be able to stand behind Waylon, since he would have done it for me. I was on the fence, not sure. They must have sensed it because then the promises came. They wanted me to take over the big project. Knew I was going to kill it. They told me all the right things. I would have my own team; it would be huge. But the biggest thing is that they would help me create my firm. Everleigh, you had to know the only thing I thought about was how it was going to help us,” I say, and she lifts a hand to wipe away the tears, breaking my heart.
“Like, you have to know that the only thing I thought about was you. Was us. Was the future for us, making sure you were taken care of.” I swallow down the lump. “They knew they had me on the hook, but it wasn’t good enough for them because then came the blackmail.” I laugh bitterly. “They would take away the contract they had with my father. The only contract he had. The only one that was keeping him afloat. They were already six months behind in payments, something I didn’t know, but if they took it away, chances are they were not going to fucking pay him, and he would have to close the doors.” The anger grips me exactly how it did that day. “I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t let him suffer because of me. So I told them I would do whatever they wanted. I would do it for Waylon because I want to believe he would do it for me.”
“He wouldn’t do shit for you,” she hisses. “He was the most self-centered asshole.”
“I know that now,” I admit, “but I did what I did, and I have to live with that. Coming home to you every single day, knowing I was hiding it from you, killed me inside. You have to know this. I wanted to tell you everything, but then again, I didn’t want it to touch you. I didn’t think it would blow up the way it did. I thought I was protecting you.”
“But what about you?” she asks and leans forward to put her beer bottle on the coffee table. “Who was going to protect you?”
“I didn’t care about me,” I admit. “After I lost you, I wanted to die. I begged to die.” She gasps and puts her hands in front of her mouth. “I couldn’t even look at myself in the mirror. I knew you would be pissed at me, but I never thought you would leave me. I guess I had hoped it would all work out. I took the risk, and it was bigger than I thought it would be.” I look down, afraid to look into her eyes, but knowing I have to. I have to see them when I say it. “It will forever be the biggest regret of my life.”