Page 66 of Total Jane Wreck

I glare at him. “Yet you did. And now everything between us is ruined. Not just our relationship, but this place, my job, the horses—everything.”

“Don’t say that.” Chet slides into the chair across from me and reaches for my hands. I pull them away.

He recognizes my rebuke with a single nod of his head. “Look, Jane, you—you’re meant to be here, and Miss Adele, Betty, Freckles—they need you. So, please don’t go. I promise I’ll stay out of your way. I’ll even transfer ownership of Betty to you, make it official—”

“No way.” I choke out the words before he can go on. “I can’t let you give her to me. I can’t let you give me anything at all.”

Chet’s mouth drops open. “Why not?”

I swallow the lump in my throat. “Because your relationship with Birdy is toxic, and you’re not over her. How do I know that you haven’t been with her these last six weeks? You’ve had plenty of opportunity—and if you can lie about hiding her here, you could lie about anything.”

He briefly covers his face with his hands and rubs his eyes, which are already red. “I understand you thinking that way. But I swear to God, Jane—Birdy and I, we’re over. While I still love her, I’m no longer in love with her. Not anymore.”

“And yet,” I say, “you still want to save her. If you’re telling the truth, then—best case—you have a savior complex, Chet. Birdy needs rescuing and you get off on it. Now here I am, in need of saving, just like her. And while most of what Birdy said was a lie, one thing rang true: You’ll get tired of me soon. The moment I seem strong to you, the moment I’m not someone you can save—that’s when you’ll lose interest.”

“You don’t understand,” he says. “I fell in love with you, Jane. But I never thought about saving you. Instead, I thought you might save me.”

His words hit me like a gut punch. “For what it’s worth, Chet, I fell in love with you too. But you had no business letting me feel that way.”

He stares at me. “Fuck, Jane. Like I have control over your emotions.”

“You led me on,” I say.

“I tried not to.”

“Not hard enough.” The tears are right there, just behind everything. “Now you have to let me go.”

Something moves across his face—resignation, maybe, or grief. “Where will you go?” He pauses. “Take Betty. Please.”

I shake my head and stand up. My legs are unsteady, and I know if I don’t move right now, I’ll fall apart completely. I walk to the door and hold it open.

“Please leave,” I manage. “I need to pack.”

He looks at me for a long moment, his eyes wet, and I have to look away. I hear him stand, hear his shoes cross the floor.

“Goodbye, Jane.”

The door closes. I press my back against it and cover my mouth with both hands, because if I don’t, I’ll open the door and call after him and tell him that I’ve never loved anyone the way I love him. And we’ll be right back where we started.

I slide down to the floor. I cry for hours. Until my eyes sting. Until my throat is sore. Until there are no tears left. Then, I pick myself up, dust myself off, and figure out a plan.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

May your eyes never shed such stormy, scalding, heart-wrung tears as poured from mine.

My plan is this: drive into Sugar Pine, get a cup of coffee, and go from there. As plans go, it’s not worth a plod nickel. But it’s all I’ve got.

It takes a while, packing up my stuff and then cleaning up the trailer. But I refuse to leave a mess for someone else to deal with—even now, even after everything. Then comes the worst part—saying goodbye to the horses.

I won’t dwell on all the sad details.

Once I drive off, the road to Sugar Pine rolls out ahead of me. And the mountains do something unfair with the sunrise. Burnished orange mixed with bright lavender. It’s a sky that has no business existing on the worst morning of my life. I almost can’t appreciate it. Almost.

Yet there’s something about Colorado that already feels more like home than Kentucky ever did. Given the circumstances, coming to this realization is a tad inconvenient. Because what exactly am I supposed to do with the information?

Howl Coffee has just flipped its sign to Open when I pull up. Inside, a barista with purple hair takes my order, and I’m so hollowed out that I don’t even try to be charming.

“Will that be all?” she asks.