Page 42 of Love At Peace

“And then...”

And then, who knew what. If I ended up going for that job, I wouldn’t be able to apply until late December, just before Christmas. That was when Janelle thought the transfer application would be live and accessible.

Still, taking a step forward to clear the air with Roarke would likely go a long way in letting me sleep easier at night.

I parked behind his SUV that was sitting at the curb. He was here, all right. He’d gone to the open house. Just in front of his car, the A-frame remained open with the hours printed on it.

If the lack of cars on the road was any indication, this house either had serious issues with it that no one else was interested or the other house-hunters had already come by and left.

Or... no one is trying to move and buy a house right now because it’s so close to Christmas...

I locked my car and hesitated for a moment before walking toward the two-story farmhouse. It looked picture-perfect, minus a little chipped paint and unmatched shutters. But I didn’t approach yet. Scanning my surroundings, I held my breath and braced for a threat. If David were around and in the mood to bother me again, now would be the perfect opportunity. I didn’t let myself be out and about alone, but this was an exception.

Twenty yards remained between me and the front door. That simple path of pavement was the only route to go.

Yet, David’s mental warfare had rendered me paranoid and nervous to be exposed for even a second.

Just get this over with. Go.

No one came out. David didn’t stalk up to me. Under the lazy gray skies of broad daylight, it was just me out here, preparing to tell the man I was falling for why I felt like I had to leave town again.

Walking slowly, I tried not to check out the house’s exterior. This was the one place that we’d both daydreamed about together. He liked the porch, but it was the abundance of windows that attracted me to preview the photos linked to the listing. He wasn’t sure about the dated HVAC, and I questioned if the carpet was hiding junky floors or hardwood. Of the limited pickings that Roarke had looked at after this cabin flooded, this one had grabbed our attention.

But it won’t be mine.

Not if I leave...

Footsteps sounded from the edge of the road. Telltale crunches reached my ear, and I gasped, spinning at the alerting noise of someone moving quickly from the road.

David?

Nope.

It was a false alarm.

A jogger carried on, lifting his gloved hand in a wave as he went by, exercising so hard his every breath was a quick puff in front of his wind-burned-red face.

I let my shoulders slump, annoyed with how on edge I remained no matter what.

And...that’s another point in favor of leaving...

I turned back and continued to the house. Squashing all the thoughts about making a home with Roarke, I focused on putting one foot in front of the next and just getting this over.

Saying goodbye—potentially goodbye—wasn’t something I had much experience with.

I didn’t have a chance to say goodbye to my parents, and they wouldn’t have given me their attention to hear one from me if I’d tried to.

When I left Burton with my college degree, I didn’t speak to a soul, just up and left to the feeling of freedom.

Then when I ran from Chicago? No, I didn’t linger to bid anyone farewell, especially not David.

If I were to leave my hometown again, I wouldn’t be able to take off without a regret.

As I closed the distance between us, I wished I didn’t have to consider the option of leaving at all.

I missed him.

And that longing would only increase and deepen against my will no matter where I went.