Chapter 10 #2
Blaine stopped walking. "Caitlin. Whatever's going on—you don't have to tell me.
But I want you to know that I'm here. If you need to talk, or if you need someone to sit with you in silence, or if you need someone to tell you it's going to be okay even if neither of us believes it. " He met my eyes. "I'm here."
Something broke open in my chest.
"I called Preston today," I heard myself say. "I basically told him to give me a reason to stay or let me go."
Blaine went very still. "And?"
"He said he needs to think about it."
"That's..." He shook his head. "If someone I loved asked me to give them a reason to stay, I wouldn't need to think about it. The reason would be obvious."
"What would you say?"
He looked at me—really looked at me—and for a moment, the whole world narrowed to just the two of us standing in the fading afternoon light.
"I'd say that every moment with you feels like the first breath after being underwater.
That when you're not around, I'm just counting the hours until I see you again.
That I didn't know what I was missing until you showed up at two in the morning to save a horse, and now I can't imagine my life without you in it. "
My heart stopped. Started again.
"Blaine..."
"You asked." He smiled, but his eyes were serious. "That's what I'd say. If it were me."
"But it's not you."
"No." He stepped back, giving me space. "It's not. And whatever happens with Preston—whatever you decide—I meant what I said. I'll wait. No pressure. No expectations."
"What if I don't want you to wait?"
The words came out before I could stop them.
Blaine's breath caught. "What?"
"What if I don't want you to wait?" I stepped toward him, closing the distance he'd created. "What if I'm tired of waiting? What if I want?—"
I didn't finish the sentence.
Because Blaine's hands were cupping my face, and his lips were on mine, and everything else just... stopped.
The kiss was soft at first. Tentative. A question more than an answer. But when I leaned into him, when my hands fisted in the front of his shirt, it deepened into something urgent and inevitable and absolutely, terrifyingly right.
When we finally broke apart, we were both breathing hard.
"I shouldn't have done that," Blaine whispered. "You're still technically?—"
"I know." I pressed my forehead to his. "I know. But I'm not sorry."
"Neither am I."
We stood there for a long moment, wrapped up in each other, the world quiet around us.
"I need to end things with Preston," I said. "Properly. Before this goes any further."
"Okay."
"And we need to be careful. Take things slow."
"Okay."
"And you need to stop looking at me like that or I'm going to kiss you again."
He grinned. "That's not much of a threat."
"Blaine."
"Okay, okay." He stepped back, still smiling. "Slow. Careful. Proper endings before new beginnings. I can do that."
"Can you?"
"Probably not. But I'll try." He took my hand, squeezed it once, then let go. "Go home, Caitlin. Deal with Preston. And when you're ready—when you're really ready—you know where to find me."
I drove home with my lips still tingling and my heart full of something that felt dangerously like hope.
I didn't go inside when I got home.
I sat in my truck in the driveway, engine off, staring at the dark windows of my little rental house. My lips were still tingling. My hands were still shaking. And my mind kept replaying that kiss on an endless loop.
What did I just do?
I knew what I'd done. I'd kissed another man while I was still technically in a relationship. I'd crossed a line I'd told myself I wouldn't cross.
And I didn't regret it. Not even a little.
That was the part that scared me most.
I pulled out my phone. Preston's last text was still there, unanswered from days ago. Miss you.
Two words and an emoji. That's what three years had become.
I could wait until tomorrow. Could give myself time to think, to plan what I wanted to say. That would be the smart thing. The careful thing.
But I was tired of being careful. Tired of waiting. Tired of pretending that what Preston and I had was still a relationship instead of just... habit.
I called him.
He answered on the third ring. "Hey babe. Hold on—" The sound of a door closing, muffled voices fading. "Okay, I'm here. What's up?"
"We need to talk."
A pause. "That's the second time you've said that lately. Should I be worried?"
"Preston..." I took a breath. "This isn't working."
Silence.
"What do you mean?" His voice had gone careful. Guarded.
"Us. This. The long distance, the missed calls, the—" I pressed my palm against my forehead. "When's the last time we actually talked? Not texted. Talked."
"We're talking right now."
"Because I called you. Because I always call you.
" I could hear the frustration creeping into my voice and I didn't try to stop it.
"I've been out here for two months, Preston.
You haven't visited once. You barely call.
And when you do, you're distracted, checking emails, half-listening while I talk about my day. "
"That's not fair. Work has been insane?—"
"Work is always insane. That's not going to change." I stared out at the dark street, the quiet houses, the life I was building here without him. "I asked you to give me a reason to stay. Do you remember what you said?"
Silence.
"You said you needed to think about it." My voice cracked slightly. "After three years together, you needed to think about whether you wanted to fight for us."
"Caitlin—"
"I'm not angry, Preston. I'm just... tired." I closed my eyes. "I think we both know this has been over for a while. We've just been too stubborn to admit it."
A long pause. When he spoke again, his voice was different. Quieter. "Is there someone else?"
The question hit me harder than I expected. I thought about Blaine. About the kiss. About the way he'd looked at me like I was the only person in the world.
"This isn't about someone else," I said. "This is about us. About the fact that I've been lonely in this relationship for months. Maybe longer."
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only answer that matters right now."
Another silence. I could hear him breathing, could picture him pacing his apartment the way he did when he was processing something difficult.
"So that's it?" he finally said. "Three years, and you're ending it over the phone?"
"Would you rather I fly to New York? Because we both know you don't have time to see me even if I did."
The words came out sharper than I intended. But I didn't take them back.
Preston let out a long breath. "I guess I deserve that."
"I'm not trying to hurt you. I'm just trying to be honest." I wiped at my eyes, surprised to find them wet. "We want different things, Preston. We always have, I think. I just didn't want to see it."
"And what do you want, Caitlin? A life in the middle of nowhere, delivering calves and?—"
"Yes." The word came out firm. Certain. "That's exactly what I want. And I want someone who wants to be part of that. Not someone who sends me heart emojis from a thousand miles away and calls it a relationship."
Silence stretched between us. Three years of history, of shared memories, of plans that would never happen now. It should have felt heavier. Instead, it felt like setting down a weight I hadn't realized I'd been carrying.
"I'm sorry," I said. "I really am."
"Yeah." His voice was flat. Resigned. "Me too."
"Take care of yourself, Preston."
"You too, Caitlin."
The call ended. No "I love you." No promises to stay friends. Just... done.
I sat in the truck for a long time after that, letting the silence settle around me. I should have felt sad. Guilty. Something.
Instead, I felt free.
My phone buzzed. For one irrational second, I thought it might be Preston calling back—to fight for us, to say the things he should have said months ago.
It was Jess.
Well??? How was dinner??
I laughed out loud—a slightly hysterical sound in the quiet cab of my truck. Then I called her.
"Tell me everything," she answered.
"I kissed him."
"WHAT."
"And I just broke up with Preston."
"WHAT."
"And I'm sitting in my truck in my driveway having what might be a minor emotional breakdown."
"I'm going to need you to start from the beginning and not leave out a single detail."
So I told her. Everything. The dinner, the conversation on the porch, the kiss that had turned my whole world sideways. And then the call with Preston—the relief, the guilt, the strange lightness of finally letting go.
"Oh, Cait." Jess's voice was soft. "How do you feel?"
"Terrified," I admitted. "And relieved. And excited. And guilty about being excited." I leaned my head back against the seat. "Is it crazy that I feel more alive after one kiss with Blaine than I have in months with Preston?"
"It's not crazy. It's honest." She paused. "So what happens now?"
"I told Blaine we'd take things slow. That I needed to end things with Preston properly before anything else happened."
"And now you have."
"And now I have."
"So...?"
I thought about Blaine's smile. The way he'd said he'd wait. The way he'd looked at me like I was something precious.
"So now I figure out what comes next."