Chapter 41
Fact or Fiction?
We didn’t rehearse this.
Addison
It’s three in the morning and I’m at the kitchen island, stretching and folding my sourdough way more than I need to, giving
the dough a harsh punch every once in a while, just for good measure.
I’ve not slept a wink, my mind doing what it always does and fixating on everything that’s fucked-up in my life.
It took two hours to get Trista and Dakota to leave. They forced me to sit here and talk through everything with them. They
assured me they knew nothing, and they were honored when I asked them to be a part of my wedding. They told me if I wanted
to call off the wedding, they would have my back.
But they also asked me if it really was the worst thing in the world for Luke’s biggest lie to be that he loved me.
“I totally understand why you’re angry, Addison. I’m fucking fuming that we were all being lied to,” Trista says. “But I’m
struggling with why you’re so angry at Luke. Wasn’t it obvious how much he loved you?”
“We all saw how determined he was to become a lumberjack,” Dakota adds. “That was for you, Ads. Because he loves you. I’ve
never seen Luke so passionate about something in the years that I’ve known him. He may have been hiding his feelings, but
it clearly wasn’t a game.”
“But the whole Robyn thing?” I ask. “He knew who my dad was selling the lumberyard to—”
“But, Ads, that’s on your dad,” Trista corrects firmly. “It’s your dad who’s selling you out of your job. Not Luke. The fact that he went to your dad on your behalf shows how much he cares.”
“So, is the main issue that Luke loves you but didn’t tell you?”
And I feel fundamentally broken for feeling like that is the biggest issue. I feel duped, just like I did with my mom. No
part of me ever expected her to not come back home. Yes, it was awful what we all went through, but I thought family worked
through stuff. I thought family stuck together through hard times.
And the worst part is . . . just a few hours ago, I was walking around thinking I had found a family that would do that. A
husband, a home, a new family who loved me enough to be a part of our special day.
I was ready to make my wedding with Luke real tomorrow and planned on telling him my feelings tonight. I was going to let
him hold me in bed and tell him that I loved him. He was going to say it back and we were going to make love whispering it
onto each other’s lips.
Tomorrow was set to be the best day of my life.
Now it’s like someone has woken me up from a dream I’ve been stuck in and they’re pointing at all the things I was ignoring
in my time here on Fletcher Mountain. Everyone is capable of lying. Everyone is capable of leaving me.
It’s so laughable of me to think I could have a normal relationship with a man. I have an alcoholic, dangerous, absentee mother
and an overbearing, narcissistic, misogynistic father. To think I was dreaming about having kids.
I am clearly not thinking straight.
I am not equipped for that life. No child should be subjected to the likes of me and my baggage. I’m too much to handle. I’m
overreactive and emotional and clearly incompetent in relationships. Which is why Luke didn’t trust me to open my heart to
him. And I’m obviously incompetent in business too because my dad doesn’t trust me to inherit the lumberyard.
I’m a mess!
It’s no wonder my mother left us after prison. I’d probably leave me too.
It’s nearly 4 a.m. by the time I force myself to go lie in the spare bed. I hate that it doesn’t smell like Luke. I hate that
he taught me what a good night of sleep felt like because now I’m conditioned to need it. Before him, I was fine only getting
a few hours of sleep at night. Now I feel literally ill when I can’t get my brain to shut off.
With a frustrated growl, I do something really fucking bad. I grab my phone and fire off a text.
Luke
I stare at the barn ceiling from my place on the sofa, my mind spinning with the events of the past several hours. How I let
it go this far without just telling Addison how I felt is something I need to really reflect on. My brothers tried to talk
to me after we retreated like whipped puppies to the barn, but I didn’t want to hear it. I didn’t need a pep talk from them.
Or Everly. Or anyone. I know where my fear comes from. It’s a fear that has lived in me for the past three years.
To hold someone in their last moments on this earth and not be able to save them is a fucking sobering experience. The death
of my father changed me and unfortunately, I’m experiencing the consequences of that change now.
Will I ever be able to let someone fully in without fear that I’ll never be enough for them?
That I’ll ever have the ability to keep them alive if something terrible happens?
Maybe that’s why I never made a move on Roe after I started developing feelings for her.
It wasn’t just a silly anti-relationship pact I had with my brothers.
I’m fucking terrified to fall in love and then lose someone.
Roe’s question about how we keep loving the other struck a chord.
She’s easy to love, and I’ll probably love her for the rest of my life.
But clearly, it’s not enough for her. She doesn’t want me in my fucked-up, manipulative state.
I glance over at my brothers, who are passed out on the bed that still sits up here since Trista moved out. The apartment
above the barn has become a bit of a dumping ground the past few months, but at least we have a place to crash for the night.
Not that I’m getting any sleep anyways.
My phone buzzes from the end table beside me and I inhale sharply, my heart pounding in my chest when I pick it up and see
three words from Roe.
I need you.
I type back a quick response, letting her know I’m on my way and jump off the couch to stuff my feet back into my boots, abandoning
my snoring brothers as I run my fucking ass out of the barn and up the hill. I’ve been texting her all night with no replies,
staring out the window and seeing the lights on in our place. My pulse races with every step that brings me closer to her.
My wife. My best friend. Please let this be a good sign.
As I walk up to my front porch, the smell of sourdough hits me, and I spot Addison through the window pacing in the kitchen.
A fresh loaf of bread is cooling on a rack and she’s chewing her nails, looking completely exhausted.
I hesitate to walk in, not knowing if I should, so I lift my hand and knock, holding my breath as I prepare myself to see
her face-to-face again.
When she opens the door, the minute her eyes lift to mine, her face twists in pain as she covers her face and starts to cry.
“Fuck,” I growl and move toward her to take her in my arms, but she presses her hands to my chest and stops me.
“I don’t want to be touched,” she says firmly, wiping at her running nose.
“Okay.” My hands flex at my sides as I fight every urge in my body to comfort my wife. I’ve never seen her like this and it’s
gutting me.
“I can’t sleep,” she croaks, looking so young and innocent.
“Me neither,” I offer because I don’t know what else to say.
She nods woodenly, wiping the tears out of her eyes. “We’re going to lie in your bed and we’re not going to touch. We’re just
going to sleep. I don’t know what tomorrow will bring yet. I haven’t decided. But I need to sleep and damn you, Fletcher,
I can’t do it without you anymore.”
I wince, fighting back my own tears because it’s maybe the best thing I’ve ever heard in my life. I want her to need me the
way I need her, but I know she hates me for it all the same.
I follow her to the bedroom, and we crawl under the covers fully clothed. I lie on my side facing her, stupidly hoping she’ll
curl into me, but she doesn’t. She lies on her side facing away from me, the silvery moon illuminating her body in a way that
stabs straight through my heart. It’s weird not touching her.
We lie silently for a moment before she asks, “When did you know you were in love with me? Like truly know?”
“I think it was after my dad died,” I answer with a heavy sigh. “When I couldn’t hold your hand or get a hug from the one
person I wanted one the most from. When I forgave you for not showing up and we started hanging out again, I realized that’s
what love is. It’s tolerating things you might not like from someone you care about because you know their essence. You know
them at their best and their worst and you love them through it.”
She sniffs loudly and I feel the bed shake so I shift closer, my hand hovering over her frame, wanting so much to pull her
into my arms, but I stop myself.
“I’m terrified that loving you could ruin me,” she croaks, her voice thick with emotion.
“How could it ruin you?” I ask, squeezing the pillow under my head.
She rolls over to face me, hitting me with the devastating emotion on her face. “Because what if something happens to you?
I was a wreck that day you went out on that fire call. A complete mess.”
I take a risk and touch her arm, and in one breath, she shifts closer to me, allowing me to pull her into my chest and it
feels so goddamn good that tears prick the backs of my eyes.
“I know it’s hard to be vulnerable, babe,” I say softly and run my fingers through her hair. “But this is a good thing.”
“No, it’s not,” she argues, her voice trembling. “I want to be independent. I can’t let you be my world, Luke.”
“Why not?”
“Because it will hurt too much if we don’t work.”
“It’s going to hurt no matter what at this point, just look at us now,” I argue, my teary eyes finding hers in the darkness.
“We’re better together. You’re in this with me and it’s going to hurt if you lose me now or if you lose me fifty years from
now when we’re old and gray and sitting on my front porch looking at our grandkids and marveling over the life we made. And
if it’s all the same to you, I’d like option two.”
She sobs into my shoulder, and I tense, wondering if I’ve pushed her too far. But then again, not pushing her is how I got
to where we are in the first place. I can’t hold back anymore. I want her to know what I see for us. I see everything for us.
“The truth is, Addison, I love you so much I would have just been your friend through all of this if that’s truly all you
ever wanted from me. But the past couple weeks have proven we are more. We can be everything to each other if you just allow
yourself to love me back.”
She shakes her head against my chest. “I don’t think I can ever trust you again. You lied to me, Luke. Just like my mom lied to my dad about being sober.”
My chest feels like it’s caving in. “That is so fucking different, Roe.”
“I don’t think it is. A lie is a lie.”
Silence grows between us as I bite my lip and struggle with what to say next. How could I have got this all so wrong? How
could I let myself get so deep I can’t dig myself out?
Hell. I’m in fucking hell.
I’m holding the woman of my dreams in my arms, and I can feel her slipping through my fingers.
“I just think we go back to being friends,” she says quietly against my chest. “I can move back to my place in Boulder, and
we just go back to being what we were before. Can you handle that?”
I close my eyes in the darkness, wishing I could figure out a way to have this mattress swallow me whole. This. This is why
I never told her how I felt. I know my friend. I know her all too well. And now my greatest fear is coming true.
She’s pushing me away.
I press my lips into her hair, inhaling her scent one last time because I don’t know when I’ll ever get to hold her like this
again. The ache in my chest is so intense, I struggle through my reply that rips my very soul to shreds, “I’d rather have
you as a friend than nothing at all.”
She nods against me, breathing out one long sigh of relief that feels as if it’s sucked all the oxygen from my lungs. “Tomorrow,
I think we should go through the motions of the wedding. Your mom worked so hard on all of this, and I don’t want to break
her heart yet. We can work out our divorce plan later.”
My jaw aches at the finality in her words as I close my eyes and fight back my tears. “Whatever you say, Roe.”