Chapter 22
Scotty
I’ve been standing with Axel and Aiden, shooting the shit about trucks and hay prices, pretending my head isn’t half-spun out over Adrienne. Every time I glance toward the kitchen window, I catch flashes of her.
“I’m gonna grab another beer,” Axel says as he steps toward the door, “you guys want another?”
“I’m good,” I nod.
“Grab me another, would ya?” Aiden nudges my arm with his bottle. “You and I should talk for a sec.”
My stomach tightens. His tone’s too serious. I follow him a few steps down the deck, past the crowd. “Everything good?”
He hesitates, eyes flicking toward Axel like he’s waiting for him to join us. “It’s about Adrienne.” He says, like he’s weighing how to start.
The air shifts instantly. “What about her?”
Before he can answer, Axel strolls back over, beers dangling from his fingers, grin easy. “No need, man. I already gave him the I’m still her brother talk.”
Aiden looks between us, confused. “You did?”
“Yup,” Axel laughs, squeezing my shoulder. "Last night, actually, but it’s all null and void anyway.”
I frown. Aiden and I are clearly both confused. “What do you mean, null and void?”
Axel takes a long pull from his bottle, then says, casual as hell, “Adrienne’s taking that job in L.A. At Celeste’s old firm.” He rolls his eyes, “She’s acting all coy about it, but this is what she’s been gunning for since she was a kid.”
The words hit like a sledgehammer to the ribs. For a second, I swear the world tilts. There’s no fucking way. She wouldn’t.
Aiden blinks. “Wait, what? Since when?”
Axel shrugs. “She mentioned it to me earlier today. Guess she finally decided to go for it. She’s probably going to wait and have some big grand reveal with us about it, so don’t say anything to her yet. I don’t want to spoil her surprise.”
My jaw locks. “You sure about that, her moving there?”
“Pretty damn sure.” Axel smirks, clapping my shoulder. “Looks like you’re off the hook, buddy. Won’t have to kick your ass after all.”
They both laugh, but I can’t move. Can’t breathe. I force a half-smile. “Guess that’s good news, then.”
Aiden raises his bottle in a mock toast. “Hell yeah. She’ll kill it out there.”
I nod, lips tight, then lift my beer and take a long, bitter swallow. Because all I can think about is the fact that I was going to tell her tonight. Tell her I loved her. And she’s already planning to leave.
I don’t storm off. Wouldn’t do any good anyway. Besides, this isn’t the kind of night you ruin with your own bullshit feelings. So I do what I’ve learned to do best, act fine. Pretend my chest doesn’t feel like it’s caving in.
I move through the crowd, nodding at familiar faces, taking sips from my beer, which I don’t even taste.
Tyler slaps my back, cracking a joke about how I must be the DD tonight, the way I’m nursing my beer.
Trent pulls me into a conversation about the playoffs, and I let him talk because it’s easier than thinking.
But every few minutes, my eyes find her.
Right now, she’s standing by the kitchen island, glass of wine in hand, laughing with Brooklyn and Amelia. Her hair catches the light every time she turns. She throws her head back laughing, one hand over her chest, and my throat goes tight.
I tell myself to stop looking. To stop feeling like this. I should be happy for her. She’s chasing something she’s always wanted. I want her to be happy, even if it’s without me. But the thought feels like swallowing glass.
When she finally looks my way, it’s just for a second. A small smile. The kind that used to knock the wind out of me. She mouths something, Hey.
I lift my beer in answer, forcing a smile that doesn’t reach my eyes.
The night continues like that, little flashes of her across the room, brushed fingertips when she passes by, the faint scent of her perfume cutting through the barbecue smoke. Every time she nears, I feel my chest unclench just a little… until someone calls her name and she’s gone again.
Once, she drifts close enough for me to catch her hand. It’s soft, warm, steadying in a way that makes me want to hold onto her. She gives a quiet smile that doesn’t match the brightness she’s showing everyone else. There’s an apology in it.
She mouths, I’m sorry.
I shake my head, mouth back, you’re fine. Then I let go before my fingers start to tremble.
So I keep laughing. I keep acting like the beer in my hand is enough to dull the ache in my chest. By the time the night starts to fade, I feel like a ghost in my own skin. Still smiling, still joking when someone speaks to me, but empty underneath it all.
She has no idea I’m watching her like it’s the last time.
I slip outside to breathe. The noise inside is too much. My boots scuff the deck as I drop down onto a bench near the railing. I roll the bottle between my palms, staring at the warm beer that sloshes around inside it.
The door opens softly behind me. I don’t turn, but I know that perfume anywhere.
“Hey,” she says quietly.
“Hey.”
She sits down beside me, close enough that our thighs brush. The warmth of her skin seeps through my jeans. Neither of us says anything for a long time. We just sit there.
“You hiding too?” she asks finally, her voice a touch raspy from talking all night.
“Guess so.” I take a drink, eyes still on the yard.
After a pause, she shifts, rests her head on my shoulder like she used to when we were younger, when everything between us was easy.
Her hair brushes my jaw, and on instinct, I close my eyes and breathe in her scent.
I feel my whole body go rigid, fighting the urge to pull her closer.
The silence stretches, heavy but peaceful.
“Long day,” she murmurs. “Fun, but long.”
“Yeah,” I say. “I bet. It looked amazing and everyone had fun.”
She lets out a soft hum of satisfaction, nestling closer against me. I wrap my arm around her, pulling her closer. For a moment, I let myself imagine it, her not leaving, her here beside me on some quiet night that’s ours, no one else around. The kind of life I’ve never thought I deserved.
Then she lifts her head, her eyes catching mine. They’re soft, searching. “Come over,” she whispers, “stay with me tonight?”
I swallow hard, thumb brushing along her jaw before I lean in. I kiss her once, slow and careful, like I’m trying to memorize her mouth before she disappears again. “Okay,” I murmur against her lips.
And just like that, she’s smiling faintly, slipping her hand into mine. I follow her off the deck, down the steps, into the dark, knowing damn well I’m walking straight into heartbreak.
Her taillights cut through the dark like two red stars leading me down the winding ranch road.
The night’s quiet out here, almost eerily so.
There are no headlights behind us, no sounds except gravel popping beneath my tires and the steady hum of my engine.
I keep a few car lengths back, letting her stay far enough ahead that she won’t feel me chasing.
But that’s what it feels like. Chasing something that’s already slipping away.
My thoughts are a mess.
I tell myself not to think about Axel’s words.
Not to picture Adrienne in L.A. But it’s all I can picture…
the sun on her skin, that confident smile lighting up some big-city boardroom.
Surrounded by powerful men in suits who can actually match her, challenge her. Give her the kind of life she deserves.
I grip the steering wheel harder, the leather creaking under my palms. We never said this was forever. Hell, we barely said anything at all. No labels, no promises. Just see where it goes.
And maybe this is exactly where it goes.
I glance at her brake lights ahead, soft red glow fading and flaring again with each curve.
I can almost see her hand on the wheel, her profile in the dashboard light, that steady focus she has when she’s driving.
She probably doesn’t even realize what she does to me just by existing in the same stretch of road.
The worst part is knowing this, whatever it’s been, was on me from the start. I could’ve told her. Weeks ago, months ago. Years ago. Every damn chance I had, I held back. Always telling myself she needed someone better, that I’d only screw it up if I tried to hold on too tight.
But seeing her tonight, laughing like that, with everyone she loves around her… And hearing she’s already planning to leave, it feels like I’ve been standing in neutral while she’s been flooring it toward something bigger.
My stomach knots. I shouldn’t even be following her right now.
I should let her go, let her live whatever dream she’s always had.
But the idea of not touching her again, not hearing her laugh in the quiet dark, not tasting her name on my tongue one last time, it makes my chest ache like it’s splitting open.
I turn down her long gravel drive, headlights sweeping across the white fence line, the soft curve of her house glowing ahead under the porch light.
I ease in behind her, kill the engine, and just sit there for a second.
My hands rest on the steering wheel, jaw clenched, heart pounding so hard it hurts.
I tell myself again not to say anything. Not tonight. She doesn’t need another mess to deal with before she leaves. But I can’t walk into that house pretending I’m not wrecked over her.
If this is it, if this is the last time, I’m going to make it count. I’m going to make her feel every goddamn reason she should stay.
I step out of the truck, gravel crunching under my boots, and watch her unlock her front door. She turns, gives me a small smile, that same soft look that always undoes me.
And just like that, every good intention burns out. By the time she pushes the door open and steps inside, I already know I’m not here to talk. I’m here to lose myself in her.
The second the door clicks shut behind us, I’m on her.