Chapter 26
Chapter Twenty-Six
Geraldine
I woke up to the soft gray light of morning slipping through the curtains, and my suitcase sat by the door, packed and ready since last night.
The house was quiet, the kind of stillness that felt heavy after days of Cosmo and Christian’s noise, and I pulled on my jeans and a sweater, my boots scuffed from the ranch waiting by the bed.
My eyes stung, puffy from crying after talking to Damian and then the guys, but I’d promised myself no more tears today.
I grabbed my bag, slung it over my shoulder, and headed downstairs, my steps slow on the creaky wood.
The kitchen smelled like coffee, and I saw Damian first, standing by the counter with a mug in hand, his back to me as he stared out the window.
“Hey,” I said and set my bag down by the table, my voice rough from sleep. He turned, his face blank, and nodded once, his eyes dark and steady but not warm.
“Morning,” he said and took a sip of his coffee, his hands wrapped around the mug. “You ready?”
“Yeah,” I said and swallowed, my throat tightened as I looked at him.
I wanted to say goodbye, something real, something that told him how much he’d gotten to me, but my words stuck.
I stared instead, my eyes burned, and tears welled up fast, spilling over before I could stop them.
“Damian,” I said and wiped my face qquickly my voice cracked, “I…”
He set his mug down and stepped closer, his hands staying at his sides. “It’s fine,” he said, his tone flat but not cold. “Safe trip, Geraldine.”
I nodded and blinked hard, tears dripped onto my sweater, and I couldn’t move, just stood there crying silently, staring at him.
“Okay,” I said finally and turned away, my chest ached as I grabbed my bag and headed for the door.
Cosmo and Christian were there, leaning against the porch railing, their grins softer than usual as I stepped out.
“Hey, babe,” Cosmo said and pushed off the railing, his arms open for a hug. “You’re going?”
“Yeah,” I said and let him pull me in, his grip tight and warm, and I hugged him back, my tears slowed but still wet on my face. “Gonna miss you clowns.”
“Miss you more,” he said and squeezed me once before letting go, his hand lingered on my arm. “Stay out of trouble, huh?”
“No promises,” I said and managed a small laugh, wiping my eyes again as I turned to Christian. He stepped up and wrapped me in a hug, his chin resting on my head for a second.
“Take care, Geri,” he said and pulled back, his smirk playful but his eyes soft. “Don’t forget us.”
“Never,” I said and hugged him again qquickly my voice steadied out. “You guys be good.”
“Always,” Cosmo said and winked, leaning against the porch post. “Drive safe, alright?”
“Yeah,” I said and nodded and grabbed my bag, my boots crunched on the gravel as I walked to my car.
I tossed it in the back seat, slid behind the wheel, and started the engine, the rumble loud in the quiet morning.
I glanced up, and Cosmo and Christian waved from the porch, but Damian stood by the door, his hands in his pockets, watching me with that same blank look.
I waved once, my throat tightened again, and pulled out, the dust kicked up behind me as I left Red Rock.
The ride home was heavy, the road stretched long and empty, and my hands gripped the wheel tightly.
I kept my eyes forward, the radio off, and the silence pressed in; my chest ached with every mile.
I wanted to turn back, to say more to Damian, but his goodbye—flat and final—stuck with me, and I knew it was done.
The trees blurred past, the city loomed closer, and by the time I pulled into my driveway, my shoulders were stiff, my eyes dry but sore.
Hazel was waiting on my porch, her arms crossed, a bottle of wine and two glasses sat on the step beside her. “Hey,” she said and stood as I climbed out, her grin soft but sharp. “You look like hell.”
“Thanks,” I said and grabbed my bag from the back, my voice hoarse as I walked up. “Good to see you too.”
“Come here,” she said and pulled me into a hug, her grip tight and steady, and I leaned into it, my bag dropped to the porch. “Rough trip, huh?”
“Yeah,” I said and pulled back, my eyes stung, but I held it in. “Rough.”
“Let’s get inside,” she said and grabbed the wine and glasses, nudging me toward the door. “You’re spilling it all over a drink.”
I unlocked the door, and we stepped into my little apartment.
The familiar smell of lavender from my candles hit me as I kicked off my boots.
Hazel set the wine on the coffee table and poured two glasses, handing me one as we flopped onto the couch.
“So,” she said and sipped hers, her legs tucked under her. “What happened out there?”
I took a long drink, the wine cool and sharp, and set the glass down. “I fell for someone,” I said and leaned back, rubbing my hands and rubbing my face. “Hard. And he doesn’t feel the same.”
“Damn,” she said and winced, swirling her glass. “Who?”
“Damian,” I said, and looked at her, my voice steadied out. “The quiet one. We got close, and I thought maybe… but he told me to leave today. Didn’t care when I said how I felt.”
“Ouch,” she said and reached over to squeeze my knee. “That’s cold. What’d he say?”
“Goodbye, take care,” I said and laughed short and bitter. “That’s it. Like I was nothing.”
“Jerk,” she said and shook her head, sipping again. “You’re better off without that.”
“Maybe,” I said and grabbed my glass, my fingers tapped the side. “But it hurts. I cried the whole way home.”
“I can tell,” she said and smirked softly, her hand stayed on my knee. “Your eyes are a mess. What about the other two? Cosmo and Christian?”
“They’re fine,” I said and shrugged. “We talked last night. I told them I couldn’t keep messing around because of how I feel about Damian. They said sorry for pushing me and offered to be friends.”
“That’s decent,” she said and nodded. “They’re good guys, then.”
“Yeah,” I said and took another drink. “They teased me about it, but they meant it. I’ll miss them.”
“You’ll see them again,” she said and leaned back, her grin turned playful. “But damn, Geri. Last time you were here, you were just bored, whining about your shop. Now you’re back, heartbroken. What a downgrade.”
I stared at her, then laughed, the sound surprised me as it broke out, loud and shaky. “God,” I said and wiped my eyes, still laughing. “You’re right. That’s awful.”
“Awful’s my specialty,” she said and grinned widely, clinking her glass against mine. “Cheers to downgrades.”
“Cheers,” I said and clinked back, the wine sloshed a little as we laughed again, the sound filled the room. “I’m such a mess.”
“You’re my mess,” she said and nudged me with her foot. “We’ll fix it. Wine, pizza, and bad movies tonight. Deal?”
“Deal,” I said and smiled small, my chest still ached but lighter now. “Thanks, Hazel.”
“Anytime,” she said and sipped her wine, her eyes soft. “You’re gonna be okay, you know.”
“Yeah,” I said and nodded, my voice quiet as I leaned into the couch. “Eventually.”
We sat there, the wine bottle between us, and she kept the chatter going, teasing me about my packing skills and how I’d probably left something at the ranch.
I played along, the laughter pulled me out of the heaviness bit by bit, and I let her comfort me; the ride home’s weight eased with every sip and smile.