Cautious Love (Hayes Ranch #3)

1. Shiloh

Shiloh

Gravel crunches under my tires as I pull into my driveway after a double shift at Bradford Diner. I needed the cash, and it kept me away from home longer.

Grey’s truck is parked on my left, and another vehicle I don’t recognize is on the street, but that’s nothing new.

Grabbing my purse, I trudge up the stairs into the house, and the only thing on my mind is a hot shower and a PB he’s changed; I’ve changed, and he’s not the guy I fell in love with anymore.

I open the door and peppermint fills my nose. Did Grey light one of my candles?

I hang my keys on the hook and notice there’s something in the oven cooking. He made me dinner?

I drop my purse on the table, then I hear soft music down the hallway.

Frowning, I kick off my shoes and walk down the hall to our room. Did Grey do this for me? Does he feel the space between us too?

Is he trying to mend it?

I take a deep breath, trying to manage my expectations, but if he’s trying, then that means something. And for me, that proves there’s still a connection between us and we’re not living two separate lives in the same house.

Our bedroom door is closed, which is a little strange, but if he’s trying to surprise me, it makes sense; I guess. Then I hear a grunt and a soft sigh through the door.

I don’t think twice, pushing the door so hard it smacks against our cheap walls, and I see red.

Grey is in bed with Melissa, my best friend. Well, was my friend.

He’s thrusting into her, and her eyes are closed, and both of them are so into each other they didn’t hear the door.

I stand there, waiting in shock and disgust.

“Grey,” Melissa sighs.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I scream.

Both of their heads snap to me, and if I had a bat, I would probably swing.

No, there’s no probably — I would.

No, I will.

Spinning on my heel, I go to the closet and get the baseball bat Grey has used for things I don’t like to think about and stomp back into my room. Melissa is getting dressed, her wide eyes bouncing between me and Grey.

“Stop looking at him and get the hell out of my house!” I scream.

“I’m sorry, Shy, I’m so sorry,” she says with tears in her eyes.

I swing the bat in the air and hit an old lamp.

“Open that fat mouth again, and this will be in your gut,” I grit.

She slips past me, and a moment later the front door slams.

Grey stands there like an asshole in his boxers with a dumb look on his face. I stare at him, waiting for an apology, an excuse — really, anything would be fine. Even though none of it matters because we’re done. He slept with my best friend. If I wasn’t sure about us then, I certainly am now.

I squeeze the handle of the bat, the wood squeaking in my hand, and rest it over my shoulder.

He glances between the bat and me. “Come on, baby, it was a mistake. I don’t love her. You’re my number one,” he says.

My heart freezes over, and yet my blood is boiling in my veins as a calm rage settles over me. I don’t want to hit him with the bat. That’s too easy. I want to make him hurt, make him suffer.

“We’re done, Grey,” I say so calmly I scare myself.

He frowns and takes a step toward me.

“If you know what’s good for you, you won’t say a word, and you’ll get out of my way.”

He rubs his chest and opens his mouth, but glances at the bat in my hand.

Keeping his mouth shut, he gives me a wide berth and slips out of the room.

I should be crying or screaming, but I’m calm. I feel nothing.

Grabbing my duffel bag and the few clothes I have, I shove them in my bag and gather all my toiletries. It doesn’t take me long, and that alone is revealing. I’ve been numb to us for a long time, and it took this to see it.

There’s a picture of me and Dad on the dresser.

I shove it into my bag and look around for anything else that belongs to me.

In my attempt to make this place our home, I got a couple of cute little vases and fake flowers from the antique store.

I wrap each of them in my shirts and put them in my duffel bag.

Zipping it up, I haul it over my shoulder and grab the bat. I don’t think Grey will come after me because I’ve always kept my mouth shut, but I don’t trust him not to either.

I slip my old sneakers back on, grab my favorite, and only pair of cowboy boots next to them and before I leave, I look at Grey who’s sitting in front of the TV with a beer in his hand, still in his boxers.

He’s not looking at me, he’s focused on the football game on his giant flat-screen TV that’s too big for the room.

The woman who has been hurt so deeply that she can’t see the bottom, wants to yell and scream at him, but I know it’ll be like talking to a brick wall. I grab the blanket I bought off the side chair and put it under my arm before I hang my purse around my neck because my hands are full, and leave.

Once I get everything into my old Jeep, I sit in the driver’s seat for a second, realizing I have nowhere to go.

Pulling the tips out of my pocket, I count eighty-six dollars.

I have a little bit of savings, but I had been saving that for the wedding I thought was inevitably coming.

A laugh bubbles out of me, and I turn the car on.

It’s all so ridiculous I have to laugh, otherwise I’ll cry and crumble like trash in a fire.

It takes me twenty minutes to get back into town and down the street to the small motel. There’s no other place to stay in Paxton, unless I want to drive another thirty minutes into the next town, but it’ll be more expensive, and I can’t take that risk.

I pull up to the front office at Ella’s Inn and pay for two nights, hating that I had to put it on my credit card. But I didn’t have a choice. It’s not the nicest place, but it’s cheap, and I’ll have to make do for now until I figure out what’s next.

Taking my old key, connected to one of those old-fashioned motel keychains, I get back into my car and drive to the other side of the building.

The dim parking lot barely shows the few guys hanging out outside next to their rooms with the doors wide open. As I drive by, I see a couple of women sitting on the beds. Luckily, I’m on the other side of the building, but they’ll be able to see I’m alone. At least I brought the bat with me.

I should have bought a pistol. Paxton is a relatively safe town, but my ex and his family haven’t helped keep it that way.

Refusing to make two trips, I get my things and climb up the stairs to the second story of the motel.

When I open the door, my nose burns with the smell of bleach, and there’s a weird carpet stain next to the bed.

Ignoring it, I set my bag on the old dresser and the bat beside my bed.

It’s not much, other than the dresser across from the bed.

There’s two small bedside tables with a lamp on one side.

A small table in front of the window with two seats, that looks like it’s about to fall apart.

The bedspread looks like a quilt a grandma made forty years ago, with a yellow stain on it.

There’s a small closet and a wide countertop next to the bathroom with the sink and a small bucket for ice, a miniature coffee maker next to it, and a mini-fridge underneath.

I glance into the bathroom. The floor is a checkered mint color and white tile with an old mint tub and matching checkered surround.

The shower head drips, but at least it’s clean.

But it’s sad.

I move on autopilot, hanging my uniform up, hoping it will air out enough for tomorrow. I would wash it, but I can’t find it in myself to care.

Before I unzip my bag, I inspect the drawers and the bedding with the flashlight hanging off my keys to make sure there aren’t any bugs. Satisfied that I won’t be sleeping with bedbugs, I unzip my bag, organize my clothes in the drawer, and set my toiletries up in the bathroom next to the sink.

The old quilt freaks me out, so I fold it and throw it on the floor of the small closet and toss the blanket I brought with me over the sheets.

After that, I take a shower and flip on the TV while I brush my hair.

My stomach grumbles. I don’t know why it took my hunger to break me, but it does, and I burst into tears.

Sobbing and brushing my hair, I keep moving, letting the tears fall as I wonder where I went wrong.

Then I brush my teeth and get under the covers and cry some more.

Part of me blames myself for being so stupid.

I should have seen this coming. I should have walked away when we were evidently over it.

But I stayed. I’m still not sure why. Maybe it was out of loyalty to Grey.

We’ve been together since high school. He’s all I’ve ever known.

We were the kids who got into trouble together and stayed together.

I grew out of it. Grey, not so much. That should have been my first red flag.

But I think I tossed it up to being young and growing up together.

He comes from a messed-up family, and I come from a broken one. It only makes sense, right?

The other red flag I chose to ignore was when I started changing. He pulled me away from the things I loved, and at the time I didn’t mind. The reality of life is that you change, so do the things you enjoy. That doesn’t make him bad. But he didn’t change with me. We didn’t get better together.

He stayed the same and leaned into the family business.

But I knew he was a Kensington from day one.

I wish I could say it was his controlling nature, or I was stuck with nowhere to go, but I think the reality is I didn’t know what to do. I made this choice on my own, and these are the consequences.

Calling Dad isn’t an option, not because he won’t come, but because he has given me everything.

But what’s worse is he warned me about Grey.

The last thing I want to do is tell my father what happened and prove him right.

There’s no doubt in my mind he would drive up here from Arizona and beat Grey’s face in for hurting me.

I don’t need my favorite person in the world sent to prison for defending my honor.

Call it pride. Call it stubbornness. I made my bed and I have to lie in it. That also means I have to figure out what’s next. I won’t let this man drag me down further than I already am.