Eight
JAX
Of all the people in Bellewood who could’ve decided to join a romance book club, it had to be them.
Across the parking lot, Lily stands outside the library talking to two women I recognize immediately—Becca Walsh and Rachel Matthews.
“Fuck.”
My forehead drops against the steering wheel as I try to get my pounding heart to submit. I don’t need to hear the conversation to know exactly how it’s going. Hell, I could probably recite it word for word.
Did you know Jax got arrested?
Did you know his wife left him?
Did you know he spent a year drunk off his ass?
Did you know… Did you know… Did you know?
Everyone in Bellewood always knows everything. The town has a long memory when it comes to my mistakes and practically no room for grace or redemption.
I glance up again, chest tightening. Watching her face fall is all I need to see. “God damn it.”
For two weeks, I’ve been stupid enough to pretend this could actually work without interference from the busybodies in this town. Two weeks full to the brim with morning coffee, stolen kisses, book club, and absorbing the way she’d smile when she saw my truck pulling into the parking lot.
For two weeks, I let myself forget who I am. Or maybe who everyone else thinks I am. It doesn’t matter because the result is the same either way.
Sooner or later, somebody was always going to tell her, and she was always going to look at me differently, but I really thought I had more time to show her who I am. That when my reputation was finally dragged into the light, there would be enough good to outshine my failures.
Maybe this is better—leaving now lets me keep a little dignity because at least she’s figured out that she deserves better before I got any more attached.
The thought slams into me like a punch to the ribs.
Attached doesn’t even begin to cover it.
I grip the steering wheel until my knuckles ache, then I take a steadying breath and start the truck.
“Fuck.”
The word comes out rough. I throw the truck into reverse and steal a glance back toward the library. Across the lot, Lily lifts a hand and waves again.
My heart cracks clean in half.
I almost stop—the voice inside my head is screaming for me to stop. Instead, I back out of the parking space.
Lily keeps waving.
I slam my eyes shut, unable to make myself wave back.
A second later, I’m turning onto Main Street and driving away from the best thing that’s happened to me in years.
“Fuck.”
The house is as quiet as it always is when I get home, but it feels heavier tonight. I leave my keys on the counter, shrug off my jacket, and stand there for a second, trying to let it all catch up with me.
I pull my phone out of my pocket without thinking and see Lily’s name sitting at the top of my messages. The sight of it has my heart beating faster again. I open the thread, even though I’m already dreading what I’m going to find.
LILY:
Hey! Missed you tonight.
Everything okay?
A sad smile pulls at my lips. I can almost hear her voice in it, light and warm the way it always is with me. It’s a simple message that should be easy to answer, but instead, it feels like tipping over the edge of a drop I didn’t even realize was there.
I set the phone down face-first on the counter.
The problem is that I can still see her. Not the friendly version of her from the library or the carefree one when we’re cruising down backroads in my truck. It’s the way she looked standing in that parking lot, listening to Becca and Rachel unearth all the skeletons from my closet.
I should’ve stayed.
That thought cuts in immediately, uninvited and sharp enough to slice behind my ribs.
I couldn’t have changed what they said, but I should have given her the chance to decide for herself what she believes or how she wants to proceed.
I made that decision for her instead, and that’s the part that keeps catching in my throat.
I drag a hand down my face, over the stubble on my jaw, and move through the kitchen without any real purpose. I’m opening cabinets I don’t need to open and closing them again just as quickly. The house is too still compared with the static in my head. My skin crawls with discomfort.
Eventually, I pick the phone back up.
There’s a part of me that wants to fix it. Say something—anything—to make this all less strange or explain why I left without making it worse. Truth be told, I don’t know how to explain it in a way that doesn’t sound like what it probably looks like from the outside.
I type, then delete it. Then try again.
It isn’t until I’ve stared at the screen long enough that the text begins to blur that I settle on something simple that feels like less damage, but not by much.
Sorry.
That’s all it says.
I put the phone down again, and this time, I don’t pick it back up, even when it buzzes with what I know is her response.
The garage smells like oil and metal and heat, the way it always does, but today it doesn’t cut through the noise in my head the way it should.
The rhythm of my business usually grounds me, but today, every noise is overstimulating.
Tools clanking, a radio playing somewhere deeper in the shop, voices bouncing off concrete walls I’m usually not even aware of.
Noah is the first to notice something is off.
He leans against the counter near my bay while I’m halfway under my second vehicle of the day, and we’ve only been open for an hour.
“Don’t know if you know this, but you’re already the boss, no need to work yourself to death, you already own the damn place.” He drawls sarcastically.
Any other day, I’d give him some kind of jab or comment back, anything to keep it moving, but I just keep working this time.
That’s what makes him pause.
Sean shows up not long after, wiping his hands on a rag.
He starts in on me the same way he always does, razzing me about how I look like I went nine rounds with Rhonda Rousey.
Noah joins in like it’s some kind of twisted language they share, and for a while, I let it go on because it’s easier than explaining why none of it’s landing.
By the afternoon, the mood has completely shifted.
Sean’s voice drops as he really takes me in for the first time all day. Noah follows a second later, the joking tone slipping from him entirely. I can feel them watching me closely, the hair at the back of my neck prickling with awareness.
“You good, man?” Sean finally asks.
I don’t answer right away, hands still working on the engine in front of me, but I’m not really seeing it anymore. I’m thinking about a parking lot, a hand lifted in a wave that I didn’t return, and a pair of honey eyes glancing my way.
“I’m fine,” I say, but it comes out so flat that even I don’t believe it.
Noah snorts like he’s about to push his luck, then stops himself. The expression on my face must be enough to shut that part of him down. Sean studies me, leaning back against the counter.
“Wanna try that again?” he asks, but there’s no edge to it.
I don’t want to have this conversation, but I set the wrench down, bracing myself against the side of the car I’m working on.
“I ghosted her,” I say.
That’s ultimately what it comes down to. Sure, it started with gossip, and I’ve had excuses running through my head all week, but it boils down to one thing at this point.
I left her standing there.
Noah’s expression changes, something softer settling in behind his eyes. Sean tosses his rag over his shoulder and exhales through his nose. “What happened?”
“I thought I was doing the right thing.”
Noah tilts his head slightly. “That usually doesn’t involve bailing on someone without saying anything.”
The worst part about that is he’s not wrong.
I look back down at the engine because it gives me something to focus on that isn’t their faces or the weight in my chest. “Reputations always have a way of catching up to you. There’s no point dragging it out.”
Sean pushes off the counter a little, stepping in just enough that I can’t ignore him. “You ever think she might’ve wanted to decide for herself what she thinks about you?”
I don’t look at him right away.
When I finally do, Sean is watching me, waiting for me to say the answer we all know is true out loud. I glance between him and Noah, looking for judgment in their gazes, and finding none.
“Yeah,” I admit quietly.
Noah nods, giving my shoulder a reassuring squeeze. The contact catches me off guard, but it loosens some of the tightness in my chest. “Then maybe don’t take that away from her.”
I wipe my hands on the rag that’s tucked in my back pocket and look away again before either of them can see too much.
“I screwed it up,” I say.
Sean shrugs slightly. “Then fix it.”
At least he’s honest.
The garage door rattles open before either of them can say anything else, and a cold rush of air rolls through the space.
It’s a chill that doesn’t belong in this place, but I don’t think much of it at first, assuming it’s just a customer coming to check on their vehicle, until I hear Noah pause mid-sentence.
Silence blankets the room.
I turn, and there she is.
Lily.
Standing just inside the doorway, like she isn’t sure she should be here but came anyway. The rain outside clings to her hair and her jacket, darkening everything it touches, and for a second, my brain refuses to process how she got here or what she’s doing in a place like this.
Her eyes find mine almost immediately.
Noah straightens slowly. Sean looks between us like he’s suddenly realizing they’re in the wrong place at the wrong time, which they are.
I take a step forward without thinking, then stop myself halfway there because I don’t know what version of me she’s looking at right now. The one she’s gotten to know over the last two months, or the one everyone else keeps insisting I am.
“Lily,” I say, and my voice comes out rougher than I expect. She doesn’t move closer. She just stands there in the doorway, rain still dripping onto the floor beneath her.
I can’t tell if she came here to understand me, or to confirm everything she’s heard about me.
She might be here to say goodbye.