Chapter 31
Ruby
I SLIPPED OUT BEFORE morning, careful not to wake him.
The room still smelled like us—heat and sweat and the sharp bite of sex.
The night had been feral, like I’d needed to brand myself on him.
I went in wanting to prove I could just fuck him. Like it meant nothing. Get all the goddamn confusion out of my system. But my heart kept scoffing at that. And then another part of me sneered at my effort and took over.
The part that remembered what it felt like being invisible—it had panicked at the thought of someone else making him smile like that. Of someone else being close to him.
It wasn’t rational.
It was the definition of fucked up.
And it wasn’t fair to him.
But knowing he could look at someone else that way stung in a way I hadn’t expected.
So I’d clawed to prove, in the only way I knew how, that he still wanted me.
That I wasn’t forgettable. That I wasn’t replaceable.
Now, in the gray light of morning, all I felt was raw and exposed.
Because I’d just handed pieces of myself I’d sworn I’d never give.
The deepest, fearfulest parts of my soul, of my heart.
And I knew—I would never get him out of my system, never unwant him, never unfeel again—and that meant being susceptible to hurt.
And so I ran.
I buried myself in anything that wasn’t my office—he’d look there first.
Instead, I restocked the breakfast room pantry, reorganized the old supply closet, folded stacks of towels that didn’t need folding, and made lists and lists of everything I’d need to buy and do once the inn fully opened.
Anything to keep my hands busy and my work louder than my heart and the turbulent thoughts that kept surfacing.
Which was difficult because my body ached in the sweetest way. Every movement reminded me of the night before, of Sebastian—the soreness between my legs, my swollen lips from our kisses, the echo of his hands and mouth everywhere on me.
At some point, I texted Evangeline. “Can we meet at your place tonight for girls’ night?”
Her reply came seconds later. “Of course. You okay?”
“Sure. Totally fine.” I almost added that I just might need somewhere to sleep that wasn’t the inn—even with a gazillion empty rooms, there was nowhere to hide from myself or what I’d done.
“Tonight. My house,” Eve dropped a message in the group chat.
Late in the afternoon, as I snuck toward my cottage to shower and change, I passed Dave on his way to his truck.
He looked uncharacteristically cheerful.
“Hey, we’re making great progress. And I told your engineer friend about the great discount I got you at the paint warehouse.
Told him it’d help the budget and that you were impressed with them yesterday. ”
Not with their customer-facing skills.
“You picked a good one,” Dave went on. “He asked which warehouse, in case he could get their price drop even lower.”
I plastered on a smile to hide the pang his words sent through my gut. “Thanks, Dave.”
The sun was dipping low, the inn was quiet again, long shadows stretching across the path to my cottage, along with the thoughts I’d tried to outrun. Thoughts about last night. About Sebastian still being here. Still helping.
Still doing for me more than anyone else ever had.
He deserved more. More than I could give him. More than me.
It had to stop. I couldn’t take more from him than I already had.
I couldn’t let myself spiral any further.