Page 85 of Where She Belongs

Alexander threw up his hands, muttered under his breath, and stalked off toward his car.

They watched the rental car spit gravel the whole way down the drive. It was Roxy who broke the silence, sounding deeply satisfied. “Well. I haven’t enjoyed anything that much since the Vanderbilt divorce.” She gathered her papers, gave Tate a look that took his full measure—top to bottom, slow, the way a woman sizes up a horse she’s deciding whether to bet on—and swept toward the door. “I’ll be inside. Making sweet tea. Very loudly.”

The front door clicked shut.

And they were alone again.

Just Tate and Rylee.

“So…” Rylee fiddled with the hem of her shirt. “That was…”

“Yeah.” Tate rubbed the back of his neck, but he didn’t look away. After what had just happened, he wasn’t going to blurt out how he felt. But she needed to know exactly where he stood.

She offered him a meek smile, and it nearly undid him, because he hadn’t earned it yet.

“I need to tell you something,” he said. “All of it, straight through. Then you can decide what to do with me.”

Her smile faded into something careful. She nodded.

“Her name is Cecelia Williams.” Saying it to her, quiet, in an empty yard, was a different animal than saying it to Alexander, and it took more out of him. “The morning after our fight, I drove out to the lodge to have it out with her father. Didn’t make it past the front desk. She came down, headed me off, told me to save my breath, and sent me home. Five minutes, start to finish. That’s the whole story. That’s what I threw us away over.”

“Then why—” Rylee’s voice caught. “Tate, I stood in that yard and begged you to say something.”

“Because explaining it meant admitting it.” The words scraped coming out, but he kept going. This was the part Jason had said mattered more, and Jason was right. “You asked me to stop making this town my whole life, and I hollered at you for it, and before the sun came up the next morning I was chasing that man to his hotel. If I told you the truth, I proved you right—in front of everybody. So I stood there and let you think—” He couldn’t finish that sentence. “I’d rather have been the villain than the fool, Rylee. That’s the ugly truth of it. Faith saw it. Jason had to say it to my face before I could.”

The quiet stretched. Somewhere behind the house, one of the goats argued with the others.

“You let me think you were—” She pressed her fingers to her lips, and he couldn’t tell if she was holding in fury or a laugh, and then it came out and it was both at once. “You idiot.”

“Get in line,” he said hoarsely. “There’s a whole family of people ahead of you.”

And then she was crossing the porch, and he met her halfway. With her warm cheeks in his hands, he kissed her like his life depended on it. Her eyes flared wide at first, but then they fluttered closed and she leaned into his embrace. He kissed her like this was the last time they’d ever see each other. He kissed her for all the dumb things he’d done and every bad decision he had to apologize for.

And she kissed him back.

Rylee hadn’t withdrawn from him completely. She hadn’t given up on them yet.

He’d been wrong.

So, so very wrong.

She pulled back with a gasp, her lips curving into an embarrassed smile as she pressed her fingertips to their swollen surface. “Whoa.”

Tate grinned. “I’m so sorry.”

She lifted a single brow as if challenging him.

“Sorry for what I said. Sorry for staying away. Sorry for… everything. I know I get in my own way sometimes.”

This time she tilted her head as if to say, Sometimes? Her eyes glittered with question and mischief.

He groaned, closing his eyes as he pressed his forehead to hers. “Okay, I get in my own way more times than I care to admit. I need you to know that you can’t leave.”

“I can’t?” Rylee whispered.

“No, you can’t.” He opened his eyes and pulled back. He stared at her for a long moment, searching for any sign that she was still willing to stick around. He needed her to stay more than his next breath. “Because I’m in love with you.”

The amusement fled. Her lips parted in surprise—or maybe it was shock. “Tate,” she whispered.