“I should get home.”I nod toward the direction of my house.
“I’ll walk with you.”
“You don’t have to do that,” I tell him, my heart starting to race at the thought of spending more time with him.
“I want to, Ells.”
Damn him.Damn.Him.“Fine,” I huff again, and stalk off toward the house.The faster I get there, the faster he goes back to doing whatever it was that he was doing.
We’re both quiet as he matches me step for step.When my house appears, I know this torture is almost over.
“How have you been?”he asks.
I stop and turn to stare at him.“Really, Copeland?How have I been?Unbelievable,” I seethe, before I turn back and start walking again.He leaves town, never comes back, and leaves me with a broken heart, and he wants to know how I’ve been?
“I’m here to stay, Ellison.We have to find a way to be around one another.Magnolia Ridge is a small town.”
“Not tonight,” I say as I reach the sidewalk to my house.“Tonight, I’m going inside, and I’m going to drink a glass of wine, maybe a bottle, because the man who broke my heart is back in this small town, our small town, and after seventeen years of silence, he wants to know how I’ve been.”The words spill out of my mouth before I can stop them.I know after all this time, I should let the anger go, but it’s more than that.My heart still wants him—even remembering all the pain—yet he acts like coming back is no big deal.News alert: It’s a big damn deal.
Removing his shirt from my shoulders, I hand it to him.My hand shakes, and his eyes flash with concern.I hate that he can see what being this close to him does to me.“Take it,” I say, my voice deceiving me with a crackle.
“Ells,” he says, reaching out a hand.I step out of his reach and shake the shirt.Reluctantly, he takes it from me.
“Thank you.Goodnight, Copeland,” I say, not able to forget my manners, and turn my back on him.I want so badly to see if he’s watching me, but I don’t need to look.I can feel his gaze as it burns through me.
My knees wobble as I take the final step onto the porch and unlock the door.
“Goodnight, Ells,” he calls.
Tears burn my eyes, but I blink hard, refusing to let them fall.I can’t go around crying every time I see him.I need to come to terms with the fact that he’s home and apparently wants to make small talk.All while I’m trying like hell not to love him.
If my heart could read the memo, that would be great.
Six
Copeland
I slept like shit.My mind wouldn't shut off.If I wasn't thinking about Mom and her appointment today, I was thinking about Ellison.Between the two, I may have managed to catch an hour of sleep.Let's not forget about my internal clock.After nearly twenty years of getting up at the ass crack of dawn, my body thinks it's time to get to work long before the sun comes up.
I tried to go back to sleep, but it was pointless.Instead, I went for a run on the trails here at the Manor.Ellison and her sisters have made numerous changes to the grounds, and the running and walking paths are particularly nice.Maybe I'll bump in to her today, and I'll get the chance to tell her.
Not that I think that she'll be overly eager to speak to me, but that doesn't mean I won't try.I'd give anything to be able to just sit next to her and talk.To hash out what happened all those years ago.I'd tell her that not a day has gone by that I haven't thought about her, and really, I just want to hear her voice.I want to watch her blue eyes light up as she talks about something she's passionate about, or when she's telling me a story about her sisters.
Damn, I knew I’d missed her, but being here, knowing that I'm here to stay, it's really hitting me how much.
Grabbing my phone, wallet, and keys, I head downstairs to the dining room for breakfast.It's early, six o'clock, which is when they start serving.Six to nine is what the brochure on the bedside table says.Mom's appointment is at ten in Nashville, which is about an hour's drive from here.
“Good morning, I’m Alice,” a woman who appears to be in her late fifties to early sixties, greets me.“You can find menus on the table.We cook to serve for breakfast,” she explains.
“Good morning, ma’am.”I nod.
She waves her hand in the air.“Oh, none of that.”Her cheeks flush pink.
“Yes, ma’am,” I say with a smile, and she laughs.“I’ll have two eggs over easy, hashbrowns, and wheat toast.”
“Perfect.And to drink?”
“Black coffee, please and thank you,” I tell her.
