“You have no claim on me, Ed,” I hiss, trying not to let the entire town hear our conversation. “You made that perfectly clear.”
He huffs out a breath and looks away. Someone helps Karl up, and he has the good sense to scurry off to wherever he came from.
Ed doesn’t deny I don’t belong to him. He isn’t reaching for his notepad to confess his feelings or tell me he changed his mind. He isn’t begging forgiveness and promising to stay.
Suddenly, all I see is the confused boy inside the man. The one who doesn’t believe he belongs anywhere. All the anger drains out of me.
Perhaps Ed is right. Perhaps he’ll never have the balls to stick around.
When I speak again, it’s much softer. “You want to keep believing you don’t belong here, Ed, that you’re an outsider. But take a look around. Everyone’s here because of you. Maybe one day you’ll stop running. But you were right in your note. I deserve someone who’s got the courage to fight for what they want.”
He looks stunned, and I clap my hands to my sides to stop from reaching for his face and drawing him toward me. I’m standing up for myself, and even though my heart is breaking, it feels right.
Mom stands up from her chair, and I give her a silent shake of my head.
I’ll be fine. My heart will break in silence, and maybe one day I’ll get over Ed and find a man who thinks I’m worth fighting for. But Ed isn’t it.
“Let’s get you home.” Paige puts her arm around my shoulders and guides me out the side door of The Landing. I don’t look back.
As we leave, I hear Joel make a joke about bar fights and good times, and the crowd laughs as he turns them back to what really matters. The auction.
“I’m proud of you for sticking up for yourself.” Paige squeezes my shoulder as she guides me to my car. “That asshole doesn’t deserve you.”
I don’t look back as I walk away from Ed and everything that might have been if only he would’ve given it a chance.
25
ED
“You taking this?” Marcus holds up the wilted peace lily. The flowers have dropped off, and the leaves are curled up and brown at the edges. “Or should I chuck it?”
Marcus turned up uninvited twenty minutes ago. I was hoping to slip out of town quietly. The only person who knew I was leaving this morning was Joel. Still, it’s nice having the company as I pack my meager belongings into the pickup.
Marcus heads over to the trash can, and before I can reach him he opens the lid and dumps the plant on top of the other trash I cleared out from the house.
He turns around to find me close behind him and takes a step back at my expression. “Sorry bro. Didn’t think you’d want a dead plant.”
He skirts around the other side of my pickup while I rescue the plant from the trash.
I should throw it away. There’s no place for a dying house plant where I’m going, but I can’t bring myself to throw away the housewarming gift Avery gave me.
I’ve seen her a few times in the week since the auction. It’s hard not to when she lives across the road. She said hello in a clipped voice, and that’s about it. I’ve lost the warmth of her smile.
I glance up at her window for the hundredth time today, and her curtains remain closed.
I had hoped to at least say goodbye, but maybe it’s better this way.
My chest constricts, and I grab the back of my pickup for support. Leaving is supposed to be easy, but this is worse than anything I ever did as a SEAL.
I wonder for the hundredth time if I’m doing the right thing. I didn’t realize how much I’d hurt Avery until the night of the auction. I’m an ass for how I treated her. Even if I could stay, she’d never forgive me.
A red pickup turns into the street, and I recognize Joel behind the wheel. He’s got his two girls in the back, and I hear them squabbling before he even stops the truck.
He turns to them in the back seat and says something too quiet for me to hear, but it has the right effect. They both go quiet, and when they get out of the car, the youngest goes around and hugs him around the waist. Her wide eyes stare up at him.
A pang reverberates through my heart at the open display of love for her father. I don’t know how Joel does it. Raising two kids on your own can’t be easy, but it’s clear the girls love their dad.
An ache settles in my chest, and I think of Avery and all the things I’ll never give her.
