Chapter 29
He'd tried to put on his best face when he spoke to Blythe. He knew that he was freaking her out with his grieving process, but what the hell was he supposed to do? Just fake it and pretend he didn’t give a shit about the dog who’d been there through so much of his adult life? Bear was everything to him, and it was all so sudden. It was going to be a while until he could get his head back on straight.
Chewing his raisin bran felt like drudgery. How fucking hard was it to throw down a bowl of cereal? He stood and dumped the rest of it in the garbage disposal. He knew Blythe had been out there for a long time waiting. She wanted him to finish up the kitchen and the bathroom. Holes for knobs still needed to be drilled, and there were light fixtures ready to hang, still sitting in boxes on the floor.
Why was she so hell bent on moving out there, anyway? Yeah, he’d used his unfinished project as bait to get her to move in with him—but it’d been weeks now, and moving her up above his shop just sounded stupid. Hell, her sleeping in the bedroom down the hall still sounded stupid. He understood she had reasons in her head, but it didn’t make them logical in his.
Nearly every person he’d ever loved was gone now.
He had Chris, the girls, and Blythe. No one else between heaven and earth mattered as much to him.
He knew what he wanted, and he had to figure out how he was going to get it without pissing her off or running her off entirely.
Justin walked up the metal steps and opened the side door to the apartment.
“Where on earth have you been?” Her voice was teasing, but he knew it was laced with seriousness.
“I was just taking my time, thinking about life.” He put on a smile and moved toward the woman he was forever walking on eggshells around.
“You really want to move up here, huh?”
“Of course! Why wouldn’t I? You’ve worked so hard on it, and I bought the furniture. Now all I have to get is a bed and the linens and…” her voice trailed. “Shoot, I forgot the kitchen stuff, but who cares!”
She clapped her hands and looked too freaking excited—he was trying to hold back. He wanted to grab her by the shoulders, look into her eyes, and ask her why the hell she thought that he was going to let her live, eat, and sleep in a separate home on the same property? That sounded like the most ass backwards, fucked up scenario he could possibly think of.
“So, you plan on eating your meals here alone… Spending your evenings alone? Or when you’re done giving me your time, you’ll just quietly leave my house and stroll up here to yours?”
Shit. He wasn’t going to say it, but it just flew out of his stupid mouth. His filter was lacking, but it was the damned truth. As much as he loved her, she needed a reality check.
“Excuse me? No, Justin. I will obviously spend a lot of my time with you. I know you’re hurting, but what are you even talking about? This was the plan…the one you, I might add, proposed when you offered me this place. It was all part of the deal from the beginning.” She stepped closer to him. “You know how important it is to me, to have my own home and provide for myself. You know I’m not ready to move in with anyone, and we’re not married, Justin—we’re not even engaged.”
That was it. He lost it.
“No, Blythe, we’re not fucking married or engaged, but that’s not my fault. I’d drag your smart ass down to the courthouse and marry you tomorrow. I’d fucking throw you a white wedding with all the goddamn bells and whistles. I have my nan's ring upstairs ready to put on your finger, but guess what? I know you wouldn’t say yes. I know you wouldn’t accept it because you aren’t ready for that. You’re too damn scared.”
He watched as her shoulders reared back and her chin lifted higher. Her arms were folded over her chest. Damn, she was gorgeous—even in her rage. But he knew he was about to receive her fury in a way he never had before. He’d pissed her off, and as much as he hated to see her this way, deep down, he knew this was necessary.
“Scared of what? I’m not scared of marriage. I’m not scared to commit my life to another person. I’m not scared to wear a ring on my finger! Hell, Justin, who do you think I am? I’ve done all of that before. You know I have. I can do it again!” There was fire and smoke in her eyes.
“No, Blythe, you’re scared to trust yourself. You’re scared of the unknown. You’re scared to let yourself love and be loved wholly and completely. Because what if you trust yourself and, in the end, you’re wrong again?”
He shifted his stance before gearing up to deliver his next blow. She needed to hear it.
“You know what I think? I think it's total bullshit. We’re not playing house here, Blythe. You’re not some silly little girl who doesn’t know how to make choices or live with the consequences. Own it.”
His voice was raised to a level he’d only used once with her before—except, last time he resolved it with a kiss on her sassy little mouth. This time wouldn’t be as easy. Her mouth was already clamped shut. She couldn’t say anything because she had no rebuttal. They both knew what he’d said was true, and the silence hanging in the air between them was deafening.
He could see the rage mixed with a hell of a lot of hurt burning in her eyes. He knew he’d cut her with his words, but, damnit, he had to do it.
There were tears threatening to spill onto her cheeks and put out the flames, but she wouldn’t let him see that. He knew she wouldn’t.
“Blythe, say something.”
Her chin started to quiver. “There’s nothing left to say. Apparently, you know everything, and you’ve said it all.”
Blythe picked up her bag with her keys and walked past him out the door. He could hear her quick steps as she flew down the metal stairs. The roar of her car engine echoed through the apartment, and her tires peeled out of the driveway, crunching the gravel and, no doubt, flinging it everywhere in the process. If his truck windows were busted from her shrapnel, it was his own damn fault.