Chapter 19
Jesus. Talk about kill shot straight to the heart.
But, although there was a sharp pang in his chest, his heart still beat. Despite how unsteady he was, he was still standing. Even though his fingers trembled so hard, he had to set down his beer and his legs wanted to shake so badly, he had to lock his knees.
He might be bruised and battered, but he was still whole.
She wouldn’t be the thing that finally broke him.
He did enough damage on his own.
Like buying that goddamn ring in the first place.
He’d hid it, telling himself when the time was right, he’d ask her to marry him. That he’d make sure it was the perfect moment. The perfect proposal. She’d say yes and they’d move to Mount Laurel.
And have the perfect life.
When she left, when she didn’t come back, he’d taken that ring and tossed it in the Monongahela river.
“Leave,” he said, low and hoarse and a hell of a lot calmer than he actually felt. “Now.”
“I was snooping,” she said, as if he hadn’t just told her, for the second time, to get out of his house. He changed his mind about her newfound confidence. Her stubbornness. It was a pain in his ass. “Looking for something, anything, that would prove you weren’t nearly as flawless as you seemed.”
He narrowed his eyes, his fingers tightening on the bottle. “What?”
“You were too good to be true. I knew it couldn’t last. When we first got together, I figured it was only a matter of time before you showed your true colors.”
“You never trusted me, did you?”
Holding his gaze, hers steady and filled with something unreadable, she shook her head. “I couldn’t. I didn’t know how.”
He got that now. He did. Hearing just that one story about her childhood gave him more insight into her past, into what she’d gone through, than in all the months they’d been together.
Helped him see her more clearly.
But it still gutted him. Her doubts about him. Her mistrust.
“I kept telling myself you were going to do something to prove I was right to have doubts,” she continued. “When that didn’t happen, I started looking for evidence that you were sleeping around or hiding a secret family or dealing drugs on the side. Instead, I found the ring. It was so beautiful. The most beautiful piece of jewelry I’d ever seen. I wanted so badly to try it on. To see it on my finger. But I knew I couldn’t handle that. That I didn’t deserve to see how it would look, because I knew I would never wear it.” Pushing away from the counter, she wiped her palms down the front of her thighs. “I left the next day.”
“If you didn’t want to marry me,” he ground out, “you could have just said no. You didn’t have to leave without a fucking word.”
At least then he would have had a reason. He would have known what he’d done to push her away.
“No. I couldn’t have. Even though you kept our relationship a secret from your family—”
“It wasn’t a—”
“—even though I couldn’t trust you, even though you only wanted me because I filled some void in your life—”
“That,” he growled, slapping his beer bottle onto the counter with a loud crack, “is bullshit.”
“—if you’d asked me to marry you, I would have said yes.”
His head snapped back so hard, so fast, his teeth clacked together. And just like that, the thin strand of control he’d been clinging to so tightly for the past ten years snapped. “Why are you doing this? Is this a fucking game to you?”
“It’s not a game. It’s what you wanted. It’s the truth. I wouldn’t have been able to say no. Not when you would have been offering me everything I’d always wanted.”
He pressed both palms against his temples. “That makes no fucking sense.”
“We weren’t meant for forever. We both knew that. I was just the one who could admit it. You were always going to walk away. I just did it before you could.”
“I wasn’t going anywhere.”
“You can tell yourself that all you want. And maybe you even believe it, but I always knew the truth. That ten-year plan of yours wasn’t meant to include me. I had too much baggage. Too many scars. Too many secrets. I wasn’t the girl you were meant to be with. The one you were meant to build that life with.”
“You were the girl I wanted. I loved you.”
“You didn’t love me,” she corrected softly. “You needed me. And while that would have been enough for me, it wouldn’t have been enough for you. Not for a lifetime.”
He was… lost. Lost and terrified of being alone.
He whirled around, unable to face her and the way she stood there, calmly, methodically ripping open every goddamn scar she’d given him.
Tearing him apart.
She was wrong. She was lying once again.
He had loved her. He hadn’t used her.
What he’d felt for her had been real.
“Why here?” he asked, facing her. “Why Mount Laurel?”
“Because of you.”
Verity’s words from earlier rushed through his already spinning head.
She’s here because she wants you back.
“Although,” Tabitha continued dryly, “not for the reason that put that horrified expression on your face.”
He wasn’t horrified. He was pissed. The fuck. Off.
“I told you that night at the bar,” he reminded her. “You walked out of my life. You do not get to walk back into it. Not now. Not ever.”
Pursing her lips, she gave him a you are such an arrogant asshole look. “I never thought otherwise. No matter what you, your family, or your over-inflated sense of self-worth think, I didn’t uproot my entire life and accept a job in a new town on the off-chance that a man I was with when I was eighteen, a man I haven’t seen or spoken to in ten years, a man who’s made it crystal clear he wants nothing to with me, will give me a second chance.”
Sure, when she put it that way that whole arrogant asshole look made sense.
And defined him perfectly because he still didn’t believe her.
“Then why?”
“When I saw the job opening, I remembered the way you talked about Mount Laurel. How much you loved it. How warm and welcoming you said it was and I thought maybe it could be the place.”
“The place?”
“The place where I belong.”
“Mount Laurel isn’t perfect,” he warned her. “Not everyone is warm and welcoming—”
She raised her eyebrows at him, the look so piercing, he rubbed at a spot on his chest. “So I’ve noticed.”
Ha, ha, fucking ha.
“We have poverty and crime and our fair share of assholes and shitty weather,” he went on, desperate now to convince her that this wasn’t the place for her. “Just like everywhere else. If you think it’s some hidden Southwestern Pennsylvania utopia, you’re sadly mistaken.”
She studied him, as if she knew damn well what he was doing. And why.
When she finally spoke, it was to say what his family claimed were his three favorite words.
“You were right.”
Crossing his arms, he widened his feet. Lifted his chin. “You’ll have to be more specific. I’m right about so many things.”
She grinned, quick and appreciative, and he felt like a goddamn hero because it wasn’t one of her practiced smiles.
It was real.
“You were right,” she repeated, that small smile still playing on her lips, but her gaze was sincere and steady on his. “I do put on an act. As a child, I was always a burden or an obligation. I was never truly wanted. I learned it was better to become whoever the people around me wanted me to be. When I was little, it made things easier. Less frightening. And when I got older, it made those situations more bearable, knowing I had my own form of control over them. But I don’t want to pretend anymore. I feel like I’ve spent my entire life running from myself because I have no idea who I am. But I want to find out. And I want to do that here.”
“Because I said it was warm and welcoming?”
Wouldn’t that be his fucked up luck? He’d hyped up Mount Laurel to her, hoping she’d agree to marry him and move there with him, only to have her walk out on him before he’d even brought her here once.
Only to have her now think it was the place where all her dreams would come true.
Dreams that didn’t include him.
“Because it’s safe,” she said softly. “Because I think I’ll be safe here.”
Part of him wanted to tell her there was no guarantee of that, but he couldn’t. Couldn’t let her think there was even the possibility of that not being true.
Couldn’t stand the idea of her being frightened.
Not for a moment.
“It is safe,” he said grudgingly.
“Even with its fair share of poverty, crime and assholes?”
He inclined his head in a silent touché. “Even with all those.”
“What I said before was true. I never meant to hurt you. Not ten years ago and not by moving here. I’m not asking for a second chance and while I’d like your forgiveness, I’m not asking for that, either. Or holding my breath I’ll get it.”
“What are you asking?”
“I’m tired of running. From my past. From the girl I used to be. This is my chance for a fresh start. All I’m asking is that you don’t do anything to get in the way of that or make it more difficult.”
“I can’t stop you from moving here.”
“No, but you and I both know your position as assistant chief of police gives you a certain amount of authority and privilege. And power. If you chose, you could make my life unpleasant.”
“Guess I wasn’t so far off earlier,” he muttered. “When I said you don’t hold that high of an opinion of me.”
Even if now, he understood her reasons why.
“Yes, well, when you grow up the way I did, it tends to make you a bit cynical about people—about men—in authority. And while I don’t believe you’d do anything illegal, immoral, or unethical—”
“Like forcing young women to come to my house where I can sexually abuse them?”
She flushed. “I said that was a mistake.”
“You did say that. But you have yet to apologize.”
Tipping her head to the side, her ponytail trailing over her shoulder, she studied him. Probably searching for some sense of what he was thinking.
Some sign of weakness she could exploit.
“I haven’t apologized,” she said after a moment, “because you’re not ready to hear it.”
“Try me.”
“No,” she said, slow and thoughtful, almost as if to herself. “I don’t think I will. Not tonight, anyway.” She pushed away from the counter. “I should go. Will you be okay by yourself?”
Mortification filled him, followed quickly by shame. The combination left him dizzy. Made him antsy. Angry.
Scared.
Because he had no idea how to answer that question.
“You do realize I’ve tried to kick your ass out of my house twice now?” he asked instead of answering her.
She made that humming sound that drove him nuts. “I’m aware. If you want to call someone to come over, I can wait until they get here.”
“No,” he said, then stalked past her.
“Or I could call them for you,” she continued, on his heels as he crossed to the garage door. “One of your brothers? Or Verity?”
That was the last thing any of them fucking needed. Urban had enough to deal with, what with running his own company, Verity getting ready to leave for college, and figuring out his new relationship with Willow. Toby worked over sixty hours a week at the restaurant, volunteered at the community center twice a week, and spent as much time with Ian as he could. And Verity was just a kid, one on the precipice of adulthood who was about to go through a major life change.
His family had been through enough for a lifetime. No way would he pile on more.
He owed them that much at least.
He whirled around only to realize too late how close Tabitha was. So close that he bumped into her, causing her to stumble back. He grabbed her upper arms, steadying her, but the feel of her skin, warm and soft, under his fingers, threatened to undo him.
Especially when she didn’t pull away.
Bad enough she was in his house, in his kitchen with her messy ponytail and bare feet and those goddamn leggings. That she’d sat on the floor with him and given him something he’d always wanted from her.
A small piece of her true self.
He couldn’t want more.
Not ever again.
Even if it did take more effort than it should for him to let go of her arms.
“Don’t call anyone.” He swallowed the fear rising in his throat, the panic at the thought of his family knowing what was happening to him. How he couldn’t control it. “Don’t tell anyone.”
“Miles—”
“Please,” he added, soft and gruff, willing to beg if he had to.
She sighed. Then nodded. “I won’t tell anyone.”
He didn’t know if he believed her. Wasn’t sure he could ever trust her.
But he was a desperate man, so he’d take it.
With his own nod—the only gratitude he’d give her—he opened the garage door. “Don’t forget your shoes.”
Turning, she picked up the takeout menu from The Great Wall, his favorite local Chinese restaurant, off the table, along with the pen he had there. Wrote something on the corner then tore it off, and turned back and held out the scrap of paper.
“My number. In case you need me.”
Miles kept one hand on the door, the other at his side. Didn’t even glance at the paper. “I won’t need you.” He opened the door a little wider. “Goodbye, Tabitha.”
Her mouth turned down at the corners, but she didn’t insist he take it. Didn’t point out all the ways she’d already helped him. Didn’t call out his shitty, ungrateful attitude or demand he at least show some appreciation for the help she’d given him. Twice.
Instead, she slipped her feet into her flip-flops, brushed past him and left.
Without saying goodbye.
She was good at that.
But at least this time, she hadn’t snuck away.
At least this time, he wanted her gone.