Chapter 27
27
Conrad Strauss
I ’m finishing up in the barn when I hear gravel kick up outside. I stroll out, finding Whit barreling down the driveway like a bat out of hell. Glancing toward the porch, I make eye contact with my nana, and she chuckles.
“Wonder what’s gotten into him,” she muses.
“I don’t know.” I shrug. “But we’re about to find out.”
Whit parks his truck right beside mine like usual, and as soon as he turns off the ignition, he’s flying out of the car. “We need to talk,” he growls, pointing a finger in my direction as he blows past me toward the house.
“Hi, honey,” I tease. “How was your day?”
“Fuck off, Conrad. Now is not the time for your newfound sense of fucking humor.”
Nana’s eyes widen as she claps her hands together. “Alright, that’s my cue to do anything other than sit here.” Leveling me with a look, she adds, “Whatever you did, say you’re sorry.”
“I didn’t do anything,” I grumble, walking over the threshold into the house.
“That’s what they all say,” she calls out after me.
Whit is a man on a mission as he storms down the hallway toward our room. As I follow behind him, I wrack my brain, trying to understand what could’ve happened since he left the house this morning until now. This morning, we enjoyed a cup of coffee on the porch together as we watched the sunrise, and then we had that moment in the bathroom where he helped me shave. He left in a good mood. I felt good about us. What could’ve changed in the matter of eight hours?
“Tell me why you did it!” he demands as I close the door behind myself. He’s pacing in the middle of the room with his hands on his hips, and he won’t look at me. My heart rate kicks up, the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end. Whatever is about to happen isn’t going to be good. I can feel it.
“Well, Whit, can you start by telling me what I did, and then we can go from there?”
His eyes dart over to mine, a scowl pinching his brows. “How did you even know? That’s what I want to know.”
“Know what?”
I know what he’s going to say before he even says it. My throat tightens.
“The mortgage, Conrad! The fucking mortgage that you paid off without telling me. How did you even know about it in the first place?”
Shit. Fuck! I take a step toward him, but he takes one back. Away from me. I’m kicking myself in the ass now for not having a chance to talk to him about this before he found out.
“Whit…” I hold up a hand, trying to calm him down. “Please let me explain.”
“How did you fucking know about that loan, Conrad?”
“I accidentally found the documents that day I brought you a spare sweater,” I start.
His eyes narrow on me. “Those were in a folder,” he grits out. “So, you what, took it upon yourself to snoop through my belongings?”
“Okay, Whit, I get how awful this sounds, and yes, I’m aware I never should’ve been looking through your things, but I was worried about you.”
“Worried about me?” he parrots. “Why the hell were you worried about me? And what right does that even give you to go through my things?”
“You’ve been under a great deal of stress lately, even before coming to stay here, and you wouldn’t talk to me about what was going on.”
I take a step toward him, but he holds up his hand, halting me.
“Because it was none of your business, Conrad. And I had it handled.”
“Whit, you were drowning. You did not have it handled.”
Rearing back like I slapped him, Whit scoffs. “It wasn’t your place to jump in and help. Why don’t you get that? Why would you do that, and without even talking to me about it first?”
“I know how stubborn you are, and I knew you would never accept the help.”
“You’re damn right I wouldn’t! That’s a lot of money, Conrad. I’ll never be able to pay you back any time soon.”
“I don’t want you to pay me back,” I mutter. “It’s not another loan.”
“Oh my god.” Sitting on the edge of the bed, Whit thrusts his hands into his hair, tugging on the strands. This is bad. “Where did you even get that kind of money anyway?”
Heaving a sigh, knowing the answer is only going to make matters worse, I say, “The money I got from my parents’ death. I never spent any of it, and when I found the loan documents of yours, I spoke with my financial advisor and asked him to move the funds around so I could pay off the bank.”
Whit jumps up, charging toward me. “Absolutely not, Conrad. Really, what the hell were you thinking? Call the lender. Take it back. Take all of it back. You cannot use that money for this. How dare you do this without even talking to me first!”
The vein in my neck throbs as I take him in. His wide, angry eyes, and the way his breathing is coming out quick and harsh. Whit works hard and deserves to enjoy his life. If I could take away even an ounce of the stress on his shoulders by doing this, why wouldn’t I?
“I’m not calling them, Whit. It’s done.”
“Oh.” He huffs out a dry laugh that makes my stomach clench. “It’s done, just like that? Because you say so? I see how it is. Just like before, when Conrad is done with a conversation, it’s finished. Who gives a fuck what Whit thinks, who fucking cares if Whit has an opinion on the matter? I never should’ve come back here.”
His words are a knife to the chest. They steal my breath.
“Stop,” I growl. “Don’t you say that. You’re pissed, and I get that, but don’t you dare spew words you don’t mean. Can we please talk about this?”
“Oh, now you want to talk? After you already made the decision for me? Screw you, Conrad.”
It hits me right then how wrong I was. Not in paying the debt, because I stand by that, but in the way I did it behind his back.
“Whit, please,” I basically beg. “I’m sorry for not talking to you about it first, but I knew you’d?—”
“And you were right,” he cuts me off. “You’re damn right I would’ve said no. It’s not your place anymore, Conrad. This is my life, my finances, my choices. It’s my father who needed the care, so it was my responsibility to figure it out, and I did. It wasn’t your place to make decisions for me. It’s not your responsibility to catch me when I fall, or save me when I’m struggling. You took something you had no right taking, and you fixed it without even talking to me about it first!”
The louder and more frantic Whit gets, the more my heart thrashes. I need to figure out how to fix this. Need to figure out how to level with him and calm him down.
“There will never come a time when I don’t want to help you when you need it, Whit.”
Rubbing a hand over his mouth, Whit doesn’t say anything for a moment. Silence covers the room, and it feels like he’s slipping away. Like I’m about to lose him all over again, when I just got him back. The urge to close the distance and haul him into my arms is overwhelming, but I know that’ll do more harm than good. I know Whit, and right now, he feels backed into a corner. Moving too quickly or saying the wrong thing will only spook him more.
That’s proven when he murmurs, “This was a mistake.” My heart cracks at hearing those four words. Hearing the way his voice breaks as he speaks them. But even more so when he continues. “I can’t do this with you anymore, Conrad. I can’t keep pretending to be some happily married couple. It’s nothing but a lie. A facade. And I can’t do it. I won’t. Coming back here clearly gave you some false sense of ownership over me, making you think you had any right whatsoever to make decisions for me, and I can’t do this.”
Whit won’t look at me. His hands wring together at his side, and a fat tear spills over, streaming down his cheek. It guts me. It fucking kills me to see him cry, knowing I’m the cause.
“Whit, please.” My voice cracks. Pressure builds behind my eyes.
“No, Conrad!” he shouts, holding up a hand and taking a step back. “No. Don’t you fucking get it? Don’t you see how screwed up it is what you did?” Fingers threaded through his hair, Whit looks at me, his face twisted up. “You don’t know what you did to me back then, and I get that’s because I never told you, but you don’t fucking know how painfully alone I felt. I had to start my entire life over and figure out how to be independent and on my own. While you were too busy being drunk and angry with the entire world, I was alone and scared. Yeah, you were struggling and grieving, but goddamnit, I needed you, Conrad. All I ever wanted was to get through anything life threw at us , together .
“After I was kicked out of my parents’ house, I came to live here, then we got married. I had never been alone. I didn’t know how to be alone. But I learned. When I realized you weren’t going to be there for me, that you weren’t going to let me in so I could be there for you, I figured it out. So, I don’t need you to save me anymore, Conrad. I don’t need you to swoop in and make decisions for me. I don’t need a savior. And I certainly don’t need you stealing the independence I worked my fucking ass off to get when I had to start a new life without you. What I need is a partner who communicates with me, not somebody to go behind my back and take away my choice. How fucking dare you do this! God, I cannot believe this.”
Everything clicks into place. All of his hesitance to be with me again.
I’m losing him. He’s slipping away. I can see it in his eyes, I can feel it.
“I’m sorry, I really am, but I have to go. I can’t keep up this charade with you. Tell your nana I’m sorry.”
He blows past me, and I don’t bother stopping him. His mind is made up, and trying to stop him will only make things worse. He needs time. At least, I hope that’s what he needs. Time I can give him, but I can’t lose him again.
Ripping open the bedroom door, his steps falter as he nearly runs right into my nana, who is standing in the hallway, her eyes wide as they bounce between him and I. Whit curses under his breath before side-stepping her and disappearing down the hall. A few moments later, the sound of the front door slamming startles us both, and I can do nothing but stand here, frozen in place, feeling like I just lost Whit for good.
Nausea churns in my gut as the reality of the situation hits me. How this feels eerily similar to the last time I let him leave. My chest aches, knowing that this time is different, but it doesn’t feel that way at all. It’s like I’m right back there, watching him walk away after I practically shoved him out the door.
I’m a different man now, I know that, yet I just put Whit in a situation that made him believe I haven’t changed at all. And it kills me that there’s nothing I can do right now except give him space.
I fucked up, and I don’t know what to do.
Nana must know I’m in no mood for her questioning, because after she gives me one last disapproving look, she leaves the room quietly, shutting the door behind her.
“Fuck!”
How the fuck am I going to fix this??