Chapter Four
CHAPTER FOUR
Melanie
I 've stood at the table longer than I should, contemplating if it's smart to follow Weston or not. Had it been a few years ago, I would have gone without question. But now, I just don't know. Does he really want me there? Am I prepared for that answer? This hurts more than I thought it would.
I knew coming back would be a risk. There was a huge risk that he wasn't going to let me in his house again. But I had shaken that off and convinced myself that there was still hope for us. The longer I stay here tonight, the more I'm worried that's not the case. But I don't want to be in this home without him. It's not mine. It's his. That reality is pushing down on me like the crushing weight of a rock slide.
Walking over to the rack, I grab my coat, scarf, beanie, and gloves. After I'm done bundling up, I stick my feet in my boots and head out to where he's sitting. The moonlight is bright tonight, highlighting his silhouette. It's amazing to me how much he's changed. Then again, we've both grown. Where once he was slightly lanky, he's now filled out with the maturity of a man. He's hot. He always was, but he's got a vibe now that he could take control of anything and everything I needed him to do.
I have a seat next to him, although we don't say anything to one another, he reaches into a cooler that I didn't see before and hands me a beer.
His voice is rough when he speaks. "If you sit at the pit, you drink. Them's the rules. Unless you know you're a recovering alcoholic or something of that nature."
I grin as I look over at him, cracking the beer open. This is the man that I left with a slight sense of humor and corny as hell. Looking out over the fields, I ask a question. "How far does your land go? Do you own all of this?" I gesture to the open spaces around us.
He takes a drink of his beer but doesn't say anything as he looks at me. Sinking further down in his chair, he spreads his legs to get comfortable. "Believe it or not, I own as far as the eye can see. It wasn't my plan when I started, but there was a good deal on part of it. Then, like I told you, I got this house with the surrounding area. Cheap as fuck. It didn't look like this when I moved in."
I look up at the house and wonder what it looked like because it's amazing now. It's almost like the house that we talked about wanting when we were married, two-story wraparound porch, rocking chairs in the front. A thought hits me. "Weston, did you do this to spite me? Because this is everything we said we wanted. Is there a basement?"
He shifts, looking uncomfortable. After a long silence, he speaks.
"No, not to spite you. Back when I first bought it, I thought if she comes back, then I'm going to have what we wanted. I'm going to look like I have my shit together and like I can provide for her. Because that's what I had convinced myself you'd left for, because I didn't have a great job. We were just starting out. We were eating ramen more often than we were eating Hamburger Helper." He stops for a second, swallowing roughly. "And I know it was hard," he continues softly. "It was hard for me, too. But I know you struggled because of who your family is. And I knew, I just knew, it was because I couldn't give you everything they could."
My heart breaks for Weston. I did leave because of my family but not because of what he's thinking of. I'm quiet as I watch the flames flicker, eating at the dry logs that are in the fire pit. Reaching over, I grab his hand with mine. "One day, Wes," I whisper gently, "I'm going to be able to tell you what happened. But it's not today. Just know this: I don't plan on leaving again. I miss you," my voice trembles slightly, "and I want to see if we can rebuild what we had."
For a second, he holds my hand in his, and I have hope, but then he yanks it back.
"Mel," he says harshly, "how do you know I don't fucking have a girlfriend? Just because she's not here right now doesn't mean it's not possible. My life moved on without you. Don't you realize that? After a year, I wasn't living with a ghost anymore."
Those words kill me, of course, it's true; he could have someone. However, there's no indication that he does.
"If you do," my voice steadies with determination, "I ask that you give me a chance to win you back. Put us up against each other," my eyes lock onto his with fierce intensity. I guarantee you,I still know you better than anybody."
He makes a noise in his throat and then drains the can of beer. "I got to be up early in the morning," he mutters.
I look at him, confused. "I thought you said you weren't working."
"I'm not," he replies gruffly, "but I'm helping Nolan do snow removal. You remember Nolan?"
Do I remember Nolan? All the ladies I knew wanted to be with him. "Yeah, everyone loved him; he had way too many women as a teenager, like older women too, right?"
Weston smirks. "Yeah."
"He's a single dad now, owns his own concrete and asphalt company; during winter, he does snow removal because concrete doesn't set. So, I'm headed out to help him so he's not gone so long."
"That's nice of you."
"Yeah," he looks at me pointedly. "That's what people who care about each other do, they make things easier. They're nice, they help when needed. See you tomorrow." He gets up, and leaves me behind without a glance back.
My work here is going to be hard, but in the end, it'll be worth it.