Stealing Hearts (Wild at Heart #1)(79)

My vision goes blurry with tears. “Not as sorry as I am.”

Turning on my heel, I run out of the office and back to his room where I pack my shit as fast as I can. I’m sure I’m forgetting things, but I can’t stand to be here another minute. I text Baylee that I’m coming over and then I’m out the door.

My car turns over several times because I haven’t driven it in so long, but thankfully, it finally starts. I fling it into reverse and take off down the driveway. The potholes are merciless. They jar my car so hard, my teeth clank.

By the time I make it to the main drag, I realize where I need to go.

Not to Baylee’s.

To the cemetery.

Twenty minutes later, I have a serious sense of déjà vu.

Shivering against my brother’s headstone, I tuck my legs under my t-shirt. “I’m so mad at him, Danny. Why couldn’t he love me the way I love him? The way I’ve always loved him?” I stare out at the dark cemetery, dejected. “I guess I need to take that job now.”

Because there is no way on God’s green earth I’m staying in this town. That will mean running into Rhett when he starts up with Darlene again, and my heart can’t handle that.

“I’ll wait until I’m settled in Florida before I tell him about the baby. I don’t want him to have a crisis of conscience and take me back because I’m pregnant.” Rhett might be a huge asshole, but he’s a good man deep down, and he would never kick me out if he knew I was pregnant.

In fact, it would piss him the hell off to know I was at the cemetery in the middle of the night, which means I have every intention of staying right in this spot until morning.

“My new employer is going to love that I’ll need maternity leave soon.” I rub my temple, where a headache blooms.

I get a hoodie out of my gym bag and toss it over my legs before I yank my backpack closer and rest my head on it.

I’m exhausted and hungry and cold, but somehow manage to fall asleep.

Because I know that here, next to my brother, I’m safe.

Besides, who would come to a cemetery in the middle of the night?





44





RHETT




My eyes fly open.

“Son of a bitch.”

The throbbing in my temple isn’t one I’m used to. I never drink more than a beer or two, but last night, I had a wild hair up my ass and thought several shots of whiskey would help me make sense of my financial troubles.

It didn’t.

Groaning as I sit up on my father’s worn couch that I don’t really fit on, I squint into the early morning light.

I probably slept more last night than I have in several days put together, but the whiskey didn’t do me any favors.

Then I see it in my head. That conversation with Paige comes back to me like a flickering old movie.

I see the pain in her eyes.

The pain I put there.

The rejection.

The devastation.

Did I really tell her to go to Florida?

Shutting my eyes, I try to remember our conversation last night. I cringe as I replay it in my head.

She asked if I loved her, and I asked her if she needed cash?

I pinch the bridge of my nose.

Fuck, I’m an idiot.

Truth be told, I’ve been an asshole since that damn festival downtown. Why do I always shut down when there’s trouble? Why didn’t I come home that night, scoop Paige off my fucking couch, and tuck her into bed with me? Why didn’t I return for lunch the next day? Even with sick cows, even with the financial pit I’m dealing with, I owe my wife that respect.

Why did I let distance grow between us?

Since the moment I heard she got that job, I’ve been steeling myself for her announcement that she’s changed her mind and is leaving. That she thinks I’m too hard to live with, too demanding, too difficult to love. That living out on this ranch isn’t as easy as she thought it would be. That I’m about to be broke and homeless, and that’s not what she signed up for.

But that’s shit Amber would’ve spouted at me.

Those are the arguments my mother had with my father.

Those are the ghosts that linger in this house.

Not something my sweet Paige has said.

My ex-wife yanked me around more times than I can count. One day she hated me, the next she never wanted to leave. When I filed for divorce, she wailed and screamed in my face that she loved me even though she’d fucked Cash and Kacey and God knows who else.

I stagger to my feet. I need to apologize. I need to find Paige, fall on my knees, and beg for her forgiveness. If she wants to go, it will grind up what’s left of my heart, but I’ll understand and support her.

Except I have to tell her that’s not what I want. I have to tell her that I love her with every fiber of my being, and if she’ll stay, I’ll do everything in my power to make her happy.

With a new resolve, I stagger down the hall and fling open the bedroom door. It looks like a tornado swept through here.

“Paige?” I peek in the bathroom. It’s empty.

Really empty.

Where the hell are all her toiletries? Her lotions and makeup? That soft band of fabric she uses to hold her hair back when she washes her face?

A panic starts to take root in my gut, and I look in the closet. Her half is mostly empty. A few things still sit on hangers, but her shoes are gone. Her dresser drawer is open, and it almost looks like she stuck in a hand, grabbed a few things, and hightailed it out of here.