Chapter 19 Maya
MAYA
The night should’ve felt peaceful, given the way moonlight draped over the path back. But all I could feel was the tightening in my chest.
The window was closing. This was it.
If I left now, it would have to be for good. No turning back. No second chances.
I swallowed against the nausea clawing up my throat. I needed an excuse. A reason to slip away, get to the oak tree, and take back what was mine. To leave Noah standing in this quiet, beautiful place without me.
We arrived at the stables.
I forced out a casual tone. “Would it be rude if I left you to deal with the horses on your own?”
Noah barely glanced up from unbuckling his saddle. “Of course not.”
I felt relief. And then guilt, thick and heavy.
“I desperately need the bathroom.”
He nodded toward the barn. “There’s one just beside it. It’s clean. I promise.”
I forced a smile before walking off, my pulse hammering.
But I didn’t stop at the barn. I veered left, past the paddock, my boots nearly silent against the damp grass.
The oak tree stood tall, its branches stretching over the ranch like they’d always belonged. Just like the necklace should’ve belonged to my mother.
My fingers worked fast, pushing past the cool dirt at the base of the tree.
It was still there.
A moment later, the necklace was in my hands. Heavy. And colder than I remembered.
I shoved it into my bag, yanked the zipper shut, and held it tight against my side.
This was it.
I turned back, but Noah wasn’t in the stable.
Panic flared, but I swallowed it down and forced myself forward, my steps careful and measured. Then, just as I cleared the last row of stalls, he was there.
I nearly crashed into him, my heart lurching.
“Hey,” he said, easy and warm, but something in his eyes made my stomach twist. Had they always been that sharp?
He ran a hand through his hair, shifting his weight. “I had a great night.”
I should’ve walked away. I should’ve made it quick and clean.
Instead, I let myself have this one last moment.
“Me too,” I said.
“Do this again sometime?” His mouth curved, but his eyes—God, his eyes—told a different story.
“Yeah.”
A lie.
An aching lie.
Visions of what could’ve been flashed in front of me. They were wrenching, almost pushing a tear to spill.
I swore.
More than anything, I wanted mornings that smelled like cinnamon rolls and fresh bread.
I wanted to tie on that Butterberry Oven apron and work a job I chose, not one handed to me behind a locked kitchen door.
And I wanted this man. I wanted to press my fingers to the curve of his jaw in the dark, just to make sure he was real.
And to fold into him at night and not wake up wondering when it would all be ripped away.
If I let myself dream, really dream, I’d picture us married. A future, with Reko curled at our feet and maybe a second rescue dog snoring beside him. A porch that creaked under Sunday mornings, not escape plans.
But that wasn’t my life.
“You okay, Blue?”
“Yeah,” I replied.
Noah shifted beside me. “Hey…talk to me.”
Oh, God. He saw.
I cleared my throat, forcing a smile that didn’t stand a chance. “Just a sad thought. One I’m not sharing.”
“Come here,” he said, pulling me into a hug.
He didn’t push for more, didn’t ask questions, which made it worse. So much worse. That hug was devastating in its gentleness, and I was holding on by threads, fighting like hell not to fall apart in his arms.
His body felt like everything I’d ever wanted. The kind of strength you could lean on. The kind of calm that could quiet a storm like me.
Why did goodbyes always hit the hardest when your heart was finally daring to hope?
Why did touch feel the realest right before it slipped away?
He let go. And this time, I made myself hold together. Barely.
Like always, he walked me to my car and opened the door for me. No hesitation, no expectation. Just that composed, constant way of his that slipped past every wall I’d built.
My fingers tightened around the strap of my bag.
His expression shifted with sadness and concern, like he’d caught every thought I hadn’t said out loud. As if I’d pressed my feelings into him, and they’d soaked through his skin.
Or maybe I was just imagining it, seeing things that weren’t really there.
“Drive safe.” His voice was careful, as if he knew I wasn’t just leaving for the night.
The road stretched empty ahead, but I felt cornered and boxed in by the choices I’d made. My vision blurred, my tears burning their way down before I could stop them.
By the time I reached the motel, my heart was in ruins, drowned in its own grief.
I packed up. There wasn’t much, just the essentials, the secondhand clothes, the boots I’d picked up for cheap, and the few toiletries Sheryn had insisted I needed. Nothing in this bag had any real worth. Nothing but the weight of a stolen past I couldn’t unload.
And then the necklace.
I moved it from my small bag into the duffel, pausing just a second too long before zipping it shut.
Then, headlights swept across the lot, and a truck rolled in, parking right beside mine.
Noah.
I barely had time to process before his knock came, swift and firm.
“Maya?”
I was caught between staying still and moving away. But he knew I was there.
“Just a minute.”
I needed a second. Just one.
To shove down the panic in my throat and to figure out whether Noah showing up right now was fate…
Or another problem I hadn’t seen coming.
“Maya, please, I need to talk to you.”
His voice wasn’t coaxing. This wasn’t a date follow-up or some casual check-in. There was a weight in his tone, as if exerting authority.
I cracked the door open just enough to block his view inside, but Noah was tall, and his gaze cut past me in an instant.
His expression turned to stone. “You’re leaving?”
“I am.”
Disbelief flashed hot in his eyes. “We just—” His breath came rough. “I just had the best night of my life, and now you want me to pretend it never happened?”
The truth snapped between us.
“Noah,” I warned.
“I saw you, Maya.”
My pulse froze. My mouth clamped shut.
His temper frayed as he said, “Behind the oak tree. I saw you.”