I need to think.
And I can’t think in a house where everything reminds me of him. Everything smells like him.
Tears fall freely now, and I don’t bother wiping them away as I plop woodenly down onto the bed at the far end of what used to be my house.
Maybe it’s my house again?
The thought of that, of leaving him, makes me feel like my bones are cracking under the weight of such a heavy burden.
I try to calm my breathing, but it just gets to the point where I feel like I can’t breathe at all.
I’m hurt.
I’m embarrassed.
I feel foolish that I let myself believe someone could love me so honestly.
And yet, I ache for him. I only want him. His arms. His words. His smell.
I know it’s the only thing that will make me feel better, but … I’m furious.
Moments pass and I watch the silent tears land on my jeans, staining the light denim dark as they soak in. The spots start small and seep out into bigger, rounder ones with softer edges.
Suddenly, I hear his panicked voice calling my name from the house. I close my eyes and listen to him.
“Bailey!”
His voice—it hurts. I can sense the pain in it, pain that would match my own if I could even find any words to say.
“Bailey!” He’s in the kitchen now, I can tell by how close he sounds, and I know that hiding from him like this is hurting him. It makes me feel like I could throw up.
But I need this moment. I need this space. This trailer may sit on his land, but it’s still mine. Simple and plain and run-down, but mine.
I thought the bar was mine. I thought that was the one place people appreciated me and my hard work. I thought I earned that place in the world.
The back door crashes open, and I know this man would tear the world apart to find me. To save me.
But I’m so tired of needing saving.
“Bailey!” His palm lands flat on the door of my trailer. I can hear it slap.
The childish part of me wants to keep hiding from him and not respond.
But the part of me that’s in love with him is being shredded, strip by strip, as I listen to him frantically search for me.
“Yeah?” I sniff.
There’s a thump on the door and I feel like I can perfectly envision him, forehead tipped against the plain matte-gray exterior of my junky little trailer. All golden and perfect.
“Bailey.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” The words are a sob. I thought I’d hold it together, but I’m not. I’m fucking crumbling.
He says nothing, and it infuriates me, so I get up and shove the fiberglass door open, sending him stumbling back. “Why didn’t you tell me? For a guy who desperately didn’t want our relationship to be founded on a lie, you sure doubled down on this one.”
He licks his lips, the golden light behind him glowing over the silhouette of the house. “I didn’t lie.”
I bark out a harsh laugh. Tears still mar my face, but I don’t care. “Oh, fuck off. It was a lie of omission, and you know it.” I shake my head, looking away at the yard. “And it came out in the most humiliating way. In front of everyone, Beau.”
“I know.” He braces his hands behind his head and stares at me, totally forlorn. “I’m sorry.”
“I don’t want your apology! I want an explanation. Have you spent all these nights sitting at my bar because you’re protecting your investment or because you wanted to be with me?”
“Bailey, how can you even ask me that? I’ve been totally hands-off with that place for years. It’s always been about you.”
My chest. It hurts.
“Explain.”
His hands scrub over where the hair is shorter at the back of his head, an expression of concentration on his face as he rifles through his head. He’s clearly trying to pick his next words carefully.
He paces. “One night when I was home and heading in there to meet Jasper for a drink, I overheard the owner and the manager talking outside.”
I prop a shoulder against the doorframe and cross my arms. A silent instruction for him to keep going.
“They were talking about how the place was getting run-down. There wasn’t enough money to fix it up. Fred, the guy who owned it, told Jake that firing you might bring more people down.”
I try to cover my flinch, but my cheek twitches and I know he sees it. I look away. Fucking Fred. That guy was such a creep.
“But Jake refused. Said you were a good employee and needed the job. He went to bat for you and lost his job for it.”
“Jake?”