I gnaw at the inside of my cheek, feeling more childish and inexperienced by the second. Beau isn’t staring at me like I’m childish at all, though.
I can’t put my finger on what’s there in his gaze. All I know is I’m quite certain no person in my life has ever looked at me the way Beau is right now. My chest warms under the intensity in his eyes.
But he squashes that in its tracks.
“I think we should stop.”
Stop.
That’s what my heart does. Stops right in its tracks.
“I can’t do this anymore.”
My lungs no longer pump air as I stand in the too-quiet kitchen, staring at the too-handsome man before me.
“You’ve got a job now.”
I nod, but I don’t really hear his words. I keep repeating to myself: don’t let him see you cry.
“A secure one. You’ll be able to save up to get out of town, no problem.”
“Mm-hmm,” is all I can manage to choke out. I’m certain that if I open my mouth to say something, only a sob will come out.
Every word feels like he’s tearing away a piece of my heart I swore I wouldn’t give to him. I thought I hadn’t.
“ … so we can probably safely end this arrangement now.”
He was talking, and I wasn’t listening. It’s one of those moments where you know it’s happening, but it doesn’t seem real. Everything happens in slow motion.
I blink hard, forcing my lips into a smile that leans more toward a grimace. Beau is a nice guy. I don’t want to make him feel worse than he probably already does. I don’t want to be the naive girl who was foolish enough to believe in something that was never meant to be.
I’m so fucking hung up on you.
I shake the words away, filing them under “things men must say when they’ve had an amazing orgasm”。
“Yeah, of course.” My voice is watery, but I don’t think there’s any helping that.
Beau’s forehead crinkles in concern, and he unfolds one thick arm, reaching for me. When the tips of his fingers trace my hip bone, I recoil and step back.
He just dumped me. Fake dumped me?
Whatever the fuck you call this, I have enough self-respect to not want his hands on me.
In one smooth motion, I pull the diamond ring from my finger and drop it onto the marble between us. “No problem. Definitely don’t want to overstay my welcome. You take this—”
“Bailey.” He pushes to stand, and I hate that I notice the way the muscles in his legs flex. The line from his quads that runs down to his knees. Down to his marred feet.
The feet that still burn every night.
The feet I woke up and rubbed last night.
How fucking dare he do this to me?
“I’ll just head back out to my trailer.”
I can’t even look at him.
My feet move swiftly across the floor to the front door.
“Bailey, wait—”
I hold a hand up over my shoulder to cut him off. “It’s all good. Totally fine. Cool, cool, cool.” The last cool comes out as a sob.
My sandals sit in the entryway, but I don’t feel like taking the time to strap them back on. A buckle is just not in the cards right now. I yank the door open, sensing him behind me.
“Fuck,” he mutters. He starts to follow me, but then he turns around, moving in the opposite direction, back into his house, while I jog out into the cool night. The dog days of summer are upon us. They hit with startling rapidity. It went from hot at night, to tepid, to refreshing. The minute the sun disappears, so does the heat, the mountain air creeping in as fall approaches.
Dewy grass clings to my bare feet as I fixate on my trailer. If I can just get myself there—across that line, behind that door—I might be safe.
Safe enough to break down.
My palms land flat against the chilled fiberglass exterior, and I reach for the handle, my fingers wrapping around the chipped metal.
Inside, I’ll be okay.
I tug, but the door holds still.
It’s locked. Because of course it is.
A sob racks my body, and my forehead thumps against the side of my trailer. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
The back door of Beau’s house slams. “Bailey.”
This time, my name isn’t laced with amused frustration. There’s an edge to his tone, a sharpness. It’s not casual and unaffected. It’s hot and fired up with military abruptness.
His footsteps approach me, and I feel the tension that radiates from his body. For some reason, he seems angry.
“What made you think I was done talking to you?”