Chapter Thirty Eight
Wade
“So, your plane’s booked for Friday. I sent the details through.”
“Got them. Thanks, Mr Carter. Really looking forward to seeing the ranch.” Her voice comes through the line—Londoner, like Maeve’s, but lower.
“Great. I’ll be there to pick you up.” I pause, thumb dragging over the edge of the porch railing. “And remember… This stays between us.”
“Yes, I know,” she sighs, like she’s heard it one too many times over the weeks of planning to surprise Maeve with Iris coming over early.
“Alright. Appreciate it, Iris”
I hang up before she can say anything else, slipping the phone into my pocket as I glance toward the door, expecting Maeve to walk through it any minute.
But she’s still not here.
It’s way past the time she usually comes down.
Hell, I am usually the one being greeted by Maeve tucked up on the swing chair.
And it pains me to think we are wasting time apart when her time here is close to an end.
More so when I’ve spent more time trying to deny this pull between us than I have with her. Fair to say I have regrets.
I know she can’t stay, not really. Especially not how we are now anyway, but while she’s here, I don’t want to waste another second.
I push off the railing and head inside, boots heavy against the floorboards. The house is quiet. She should be up by now.
We already missed a whole day together because she wasn’t feeling great—hungover, most likely. Spent most of the day in her room, and the house was too busy to even check on her without anyone becoming suspicious.
I should check on her. Make sure she is ok.
I grab a bottle of water from the kitchen, tucking it under my arm while I pour her a fresh coffee. Strong, the way she takes it. If anything was going to make my angel feel better, it’s going to be the liquid she seems to live off.
The hallway creaks as I make my way to her door. I gently tap my knuckles on the door, just loud enough she’s able to hear if she is awake.
There’s no answer. I wait, just a moment, then push the door open slowly to find Maeve, sat up in bed, knees pulled in, arms wrapped right around them like she’s doing her best to hold herself together.
As her head lifts, I catch her face—eyes red, swollen. Flushed cheeks. As beautiful as always.
“Hey…” I step inside, setting the coffee down on the bedside table. The water slips from under my arm and hits the floor. I don’t care; she’s more important.
I’m sat beside her in seconds, hand coming up to brush her hair back, thumb lingering near her cheek. “Angel,” I murmur, “what’s got you like this?”
She doesn’t answer right away, just looks at me with those red-rimmed eyes. Her hands come up, swiping mine away as she uses the back of hers to wipe her tears away.
“Wade.” Her voice is still cracked and caught in her throat.
“Talk to me,” I plead.
She unfolds herself slowly, feet sliding down the bed, gathering up the duvet along with them. She turns to face me properly, her face written with something that has me bracing myself.
“I think we need to stop.” She says it so matter-of-factly, like it isn’t up for discussion, and I just look at her, waiting for the punchline. Hoping this is some sick joke, but nothing comes. We just sit there looking at each other, waiting for one of us to break the silence.
“Stop?”
“Yeah.” The single word comes out shaky, nothing like the certainty she’s trying to project.
“Angel…”
“Please, Wade. Don’t make me say it twice.”
Her eyes fill quickly, her breath shaky as she begins to fidget with her hands. Seeing her like this hurts more than the words themselves.
“Wade, we were kidding ourselves,” she says, and lets out a small breath that isn’t quite a laugh.
“I know we both thought we could do this and it’d be fine.
That we can keep this going and when I got on that plane to London, it’d just be this fun and stupidly amazing thing that happened, and nobody’d be the wiser. ”
“Maeve—”
“No, let me finish.”
She looks down at her hands, her fingers busy stroking her palm. “Colt’s trying so hard to figure himself out.” She swallows hard. “He's hurting, and I feel sick every time he looks at either of us because he trusts us.”
I look down at the water bottle still sitting where it fell on the floor.
At the coffee going cold on the bedside table.
At anything that ain’t her face, because if I look at her face too long, I’m not going to be able to do what she needs me to do, and that is to accept her decision. Even if I want to fight it.
“Alright,” I say.
“Alright?”
“If that’s what you want.” I have to force myself to look at her then. “I ain’t going to make this any harder than it’s already got to be. But Maeve, this was not just fun to me. Don’t think it ever was.”
Her eyes widen, and for a second, she just stares at me like she’s trying to process what I’ve just said.
“I just.” She stops, draws a breath, and starts again. “I want you to listen to me for one more moment, please.”
I wait.
“I know you spent years keeping everyone at arm’s length, being the grump, and protecting every single person you care about so they never have to feel the weight of anything remotely bad. Please don’t go back to that. Whatever happens when I’m gone, don’t shut yourself out from happiness.”
The room sits quiet around us, long enough that I can hear my own breathing.
I look at her for a long moment. At the morning light peeking through the curtains, catching the side of her face.
I’m going to miss seeing her every day when she goes, having her next to me every morning.
My chest aches. Knowing life with her in it has changed everything I thought I was content with.
So her going… Well, that’s going to break me more than when Ruby left.
And that, that tells me all I need to know.
“Angel.” My voice comes out low, a demand to be heard. “When you get on that plane, you’re going to be taking most of my happiness with you.” I confess.
Her face crumbles. “Wade don’t—” Fresh tears spill over before she can stop them. “Please don’t make this harder.”
I lean forward and press my lips to her forehead, leaving them there a moment longer than I should.
When I pull away, I look at her, holding her hand, about to pour every emotion into what I am about to say, not to change her mind—though that would be the ideal outcome—but to let her know a glimpse of what she means to me.
“I ain’t trying to make it hard,” I murmur.
“But I also need you to know something too.” I take a slow breath, trying to ease this ache that has yet to fuck off.
“You helped me get my son talking to me again, like actually talking. I know you know what that means to me, but I had nearly given up on that ever being something I’d have again.
And then you came along, and nudged, and pushed, and refused to let either one of us be stubborn about it.
” A rough sound that isn't quite a laugh escapes me.
“And on top of all that, you gave me—I don't know. A glimpse of something I forgot existed, the ability to let someone in, to see me for me.” I shake my head.
“Didn't think anyone could get me there again, but you did.”
She wipes her face with the back of her hand, not saying anything, just listening.
“So, if this is truly what you want,” I say, “if it’s what you need, then I mean it when I say I’ll respect your decision.
” I straighten up, putting some more distance between us because if I don’t, I will fold and take back what I just said.
“I’ll stay out of your way for the time you’ve got left here.
Give you some space…” For my sake too, I think.
“Wade, I’m sorry.”
“Nothing to be sorry for, angel You’re probably right, like always.” I laugh. “This is the right thing to do for Colt… At least we got to be selfish for a little while.”
She gives me the smallest, saddest smile I think I've ever seen on a person.
I push myself off the bed, dragging my boots across the floorboards.
I stop at the door, with a hand on the frame, looking out to the hallway because I cannot say what I need to say to her.
So, I whisper to myself, “I love you, Maeve.” Just to get it out there, because I am too late to tell her now.
I pull the door shut behind me and stand in the hall, one hand pressed flat against my chest like it's actually going to do any fucking good. The house is still quiet, leaving me alone with my thoughts, and that's the last place I want to be right now.
I push off and head through the house, quick, with the sudden urge to put as much distance between me and that room as I can. I aim straight for the front door. Don't care that it's way earlier than usual.
Ranch don’t run itself. Never has. Right now, though, I’d give anything for it to.