Page 41 of Love At Peace

“Oh, the hell with that,” Nance argued. “That’s nonsense. I saw him. I heard him. And we got our Ring camera, too.”

I arched one brow. Even video proof wouldn’t stand up to David. They didn’t realize how slick and cunning of a sneaky lawyer he could be. They didn’t understand that David had friends in high places. If they weren’t friends, they were acquaintances who had secrets that he could use against them. “Does the Ring camera show that far of an angle toward where we were by your garage?”

I doubted any camera footage would go far in a case against David, but that didn’t mean I wouldn’t collect it and have it on hand.

She cringed. “Sort of.”

“At least talk to Marty about him,” Fergus urged. “We’ll back you up.”

I sighed, not enjoying the pressure to have a conversation with Marty. It would be far simpler to just get up and go. To leave Burton again and not face the hardship of sharing the truth about my past in Chicago. Some scars were better left slowing healing and scabbing over. Talking about what David did to me would be ripping the wounds wide open again.

I wasn’t sure if I could handle the pain.

The decision about staying and toughing out David’s presence plagued me all day. More than once, I researched about Wisconsin Dells and tried to envision myself moving there. Living there and trying to—again—find my place.

Looking up another location was something I’d done before. When I was finishing up my degree at the community college and trying to eke out a savings to get out of Burton, all I focused on was how it would be a grand new start. The thrill of leaving what was familiar to embrace the unknown. Risky, but exciting. That was how I’d viewed those months leading up to me taking off.

It was all I’d talked about or thought about in high school. I made leaving Burton my whole identity, my whole purpose, and the addictive joy of researching about other places was a big reason why I didn’t want to give up on Chicago too soon. Warnings struck my mind. Red flags about David popped up. I wasn’t oblivious to his behavior, but before he escalated to the point of no return, I resisted the idea of leaving Chicago because it represented the mission that I’d worked toward for so long. Leaving Chicago would’ve been like abandoning my dreams, those of a grand life outside of the same old in closed-minded Burton.

This time, as I searched about the living conditions in Wisconsin and all that Wisconsin Dells could offer me, I didn’t experience that same exciting thrill. I wasn’t giddy about moving. It didn’t seem to be a blank canvas, waiting for me to make my mark.

It wasn’t this town, though.

I wasn’t getting hooked on Burton. Although people didn’t seem as consistently judgmental of me here like they used to when I was younger and when my parents were alive to drag down my reputation by association, I wasn’t struggling to get up and go because of this small town.

It was him.

Each time I visualized packing up my cabin and driving away for good, I couldn’t swallow past the pain of knowing I’d be leaving Roarke.

I’d called it off between us. I’d already given up on anything we could build together. Not only that, I’d cut him down with such a harsh attitude and negative tone that he likely perceived as an insult. The last time we talked, I was running high on too many ugly emotions. Maybe he was as well. Nothing about our last conversation should’ve given me an indication that there was still hope with him.

And that was all on me. I’d had to instate distance between us so I could breathe easier in the fact I was resisting Nevaeh being near me. Which in turn meant I was taking action to prevent David being near too.

If I decided to go, I had to take a moment to clear the air with him first.

While that could be a show of being indecisive about him—telling him to leave me be but then seek him out to talk—I grew confident that it was necessary.

There was no way in hell I’d be able to leave without saying goodbye. And the more I acknowledged that, I understood that I had to clear the air. I had to be upfront and honest.

Perhaps after I left, he’d come to terms with why I had to go. Maybe I would be able to spare him the agony of wondering what he’d done wrong.

All throughout Friday, I let the matter simmer in my mind. Then into Saturday, I whiled away my idleness in the cabin by picturing how I’d pack up the little I’d brought here with me.

No matter what I did, though, I could not see myself in Wisconsin Dells and being completely happy.

“Dammit,” I muttered, dragging my hands down my face.

This debate about staying or going was eating me up.

And I refused to wallow in it any further.

“I’ll just tell him enough so he can understand my perspective,” I said as I exited my cabin to get in my car. Giving myself a pep talk out loud helped to ease my nerves. “A quick chat so I can leave without any really hard feelings between us.”

I sat in the car and nodded once. “Just a goodbye.”

I drove into town, hoping he’d still be at the open house at the farmhouse-style home he’d marked as “interested.” If he wasn’t, I supposed I could go look for him at that cabin, but it seemed like a better idea to approach him on neutral ground.

“I’ll tell him just enough about David. A little bit about my past.” I exhaled a long, hard breath, tense from the thought of sharing such details with him.