Chapter 17 #2
The kindness in his voice made my eyes burn with unshed tears. I climbed into the truck before he could see them threatening to spill and I had to explain that Connor might care, but he also wasn't speaking to me.
I texted Connor, letting him know we were on our way. Another read message with no reply. I wish I could say I was shocked.
My chest tightened with a mixture of hurt and resignation.
This was my new reality. Connor's silence, his anger expressed through absence, the warm intimacy we'd built over the past week dissolving like sugar in water.
I preferred his indifference and silence from before to this. At least I knew where I stood then.
We didn't talk for the entire drive back to the ranch.
The radio played low country music about heartbreak and lost love, which felt aggressively on the nose.
I stared out the window at the familiar landscape rolling by of snow-covered fields slowly melting and giving way to brown, dormant grass.
Scattered houses with lights coming on as dusk approached.
The mountains in the distance still capped with snow.
Beautiful. Peaceful. Completely at odds with the chaos in my head.
When Jim's truck pulled up Connor's long gravel driveway forty minutes later, my stomach was in knots tight enough to qualify as macramé.
Home. Except it felt like foreign territory I had to navigate carefully, like walking through a minefield in the dark.
Jim gave me a sympathetic smile as I slowly slid out of the passenger seat, my movements reluctant, dreading what waited inside. Or more accurately, dreading the continued silence and distance that had become our new normal.
“You take care, Harper. Call if you need anything.”
“I will. Thanks again, Jim.”
I waved as he drove away, his taillights disappearing down the driveway, leaving me alone on Connor's porch as the sun set and shadows stretched long across the yard.
For a moment, I just stood there, my hand on the doorknob, trying to gather courage I didn't feel. The door creaked as I pushed it open on hinges that Connor kept meaning to oil but always forgot.
Chester greeted me immediately, his golden tail wagging furiously, his whole body wiggling with joy at my return like I'd been gone for years instead of hours.
I knelt down to pet him, burying my face in his soft fur for a moment, taking comfort in his unconditional affection. At least somebody still liked me.
When I finally stood, I looked around the entryway, scanning from the living room to the kitchen. No sign of Connor. No coffee mug on the counter. No jacket thrown over a chair. No boots by the door.
The house was too quiet. Too still. Too empty.
“Connor?” I called out into the silence, my voice sounding small and uncertain in the empty space.
No answer.
“Connor?” I tried again, louder this time, my voice echoing slightly.
“Down here.” His voice came from the end of the hallway, muffled and distant, from his office.
The single word held no warmth. No invitation.
Just acknowledgment that he'd heard me, nothing more.
I walked down the dark hallway slowly, each step feeling heavier than the last, dread building with every inch of distance that disappeared.
The door to his office was open and light spilled into the hallway. He was sitting at his desk with his back to the door, broad shoulders tense beneath his work shirt. Papers were spread across the desk surface—bills or whatever administrative work kept the ranch running.
“Hey.” I stood in the doorway, suddenly uncertain. This was his space, his office, his sanctuary. I'd only been in here a handful of times. “How was your day?”
“Fine.” He didn't turn around. Didn't look at me. Just kept his eyes on whatever document he was reading, his pen making notes in the margin with sharp, angry strokes.
The single word hung between us like a wall.
I stepped into the office, my arms wrapping around myself in that defensive posture I couldn't seem to break. “Connor, we need to talk about—”
“Do we?” He finally turned then, and the look on his face made me take an involuntary step back.
His eyes were hard, cold in a way I'd never seen directed at me. His jaw was set, a muscle jumping beneath the stubble. His whole body radiated barely controlled anger.
“Do we need to talk, Harper? Because it seems like talking isn't really your thing. You prefer making decisions alone, carrying burdens by yourself, lying to people who care about you.”
The words hit like physical blows. “I didn't lie—”
“You withheld the truth.” His voice rose, though he clearly fought to keep it level. “Someone threatened to burn down my ranch with us in it, and you didn't think that was information I needed immediately? You were going to sign away your business without telling me?”
“I was trying to protect you!”
“I don't need your protection!” Connor stood abruptly, his chair scraping across the floor. “I need your honesty! I need you to trust me enough to share what's happening instead of trying to handle everything yourself like you're the only competent person on the planet!”
“You don't understand—”
“Then help me understand!” He moved around the desk toward me, and I could see the hurt beneath the anger now.
The betrayal. “Explain to me why you thought keeping this from me was a good idea.
Explain why you were going to sacrifice everything you've built without even discussing it with me first.”
“Because I love you!” The words burst out before I could stop them, loud and desperate and terrified in the quiet office.
“Because the thought of you getting hurt, of your ranch burning, of you dying because I was too stubborn to take their deal?
I can't breathe when I think about it. So yes, I was going to sign. Yes, I was going to give them what they wanted. Because losing my boutique is nothing compared to losing you.”
The confession hung in the air between us, my first time saying those words out loud, and they came out as a desperate plea rather than the romantic declaration I'd always imagined.
Connor stared at me, his expression unreadable. “You love me.”
“Yes.”
“But you don't trust me.”
The words were quiet. Devastating. Worse than if he'd shouted them.
“I do trust you—”
“No, you don't.” He shook his head, his voice getting quieter.
“Because if you trusted me, you would have told me immediately when Silas threatened me. You would have let me help figure this out instead of trying to shoulder it alone. You would have treated me like a partner instead of someone you need to protect.”
“Connor, please—”
“I can't do this right now.” He moved past me toward the door, his shoulder brushing mine as he passed. “I need space. I need to think.”
Panic flooded through me, hot and immediate, making my vision narrow. “What does that mean?”
“It means I'm going to stay with Jaxon and Anna tonight.” He was already down the hallway, his boots loud on the hardwood as he headed toward his bedroom upstairs.
I followed him, my heart pounding hard enough to hurt. “You're leaving?”
“I'm giving us both space to cool down before we say things we can't take back.” He pulled a duffel bag from his closet, started throwing clothes into it with movements that were too controlled. Like he was using every ounce of willpower not to slam things around.
“Connor, please don’t do this. We can talk—”
“We've been talking.” He zipped the bag with a vicious yank. “Or rather, I've been talking and you've been keeping secrets. I need time to figure out if this—” he gestured between us, “—if this is actually what I thought it was.”
The words cut deeper than any knife. “What does that mean?”
“It means I thought we were partners. A team.
But you're still operating like you're alone, like my feelings and my safety and my ranch are things you get to make decisions about without including me.” He slung the bag over his shoulder and finally looked at me.
Really looked at me. And the pain in his eyes was worse than the anger.
“So I need to figure out if that's something you're capable of changing, or if this is just who you are.”
“Connor—” My voice broke on his name.
“I'll be at Jaxon's. We can talk tomorrow when we've both calmed down.” He moved past me again, heading toward the stairs.
I followed him down, desperate and terrified, feeling like everything was falling apart around me. “Please don't leave. Not like this.”
He paused at the front door, his hand on the knob as he turned back to look at me one more time. “I love you too, Harper. But love isn't enough if you can't trust me. If you can't let me in. Think about that tonight.”
Then he was gone. The door closed behind him with a soft click that echoed through the suddenly empty house. I stood frozen in the entryway, listening to his truck start, listening to the tires crunch on gravel as he drove away.
Leaving me alone with my thoughts and my failures and the crushing realization that I'd just destroyed the best thing that had ever happened to me. Alone to process the fact that he'd just told me he loved me for the first time.
As he walked out the door.
I don't know how long I stood there. Minutes. Hours. Time felt meaningless when my whole world had just walked out the door because I'd been too scared to trust him with my burdens.
Eventually, Chester whined at my feet, nudging my hand with his soft nose, reminding me that I wasn't completely alone. That at least the dog still loved me unconditionally.
I sank to the floor right there in the entryway, my back against the wall, and let Chester climb into my lap even though he was way too big for it. I buried my face in his fur and finally let myself cry.
For the boutique I was probably going to lose. For Connor's trust I'd already lost. For the future I'd stupidly thought we might have.
For everything.