Page 79 of Falling for the Grinchy Bad Boy

I said nothing.

“Would you move to the city for her?” Katrina asked, her voice gentler now. “If it came down to a choice between Joy and staying here, what would you do?”

“Hell no,” I said immediately, the response automatic and absolute. “I’m not moving.”

My life was here. The fire department and the community that had shaped me into who I was. The idea of leaving all of that behind for the anonymous chaos of city life made my chest tight with anxiety.

But even as I said it, I felt a hollow ache at the implications of my answer.

“Then that’s something you should probably talk about,” Katrina said quietly. “Before you both get in too deep to have that conversation rationally.”

She moved toward the passenger side of the truck, apparently satisfied that she’d planted enough seeds of doubt to keep me busy for the next several hours.

“I just don’t want to see you get hurt again,” she said as she opened the door. “You’re finally starting to seem like yourself again, and I’d hate to watch you go through another heartbreak.”

I said nothing as I drove Katrina to her place. Katrina seemed to sense that I needed time to process everything she had said. But as I navigated the familiar streets of Calton Hill, her words echoed in my mind like a persistent drumbeat.

This town was always too small for her.

She’ll probably leave eventually.

Are you prepared for that?

By the time I dropped Katrina off at her apartment and made it back to my own house, the euphoria of the afternoon had been replaced by a growing knot of anxiety in my chest. I sat in my driveway for a long moment, staring at my front door and trying to sort through the tangle of emotions Katrina had stirred up.

I looked at my house. The house I bought a few years ago with the intention of me and Lynn starting a family. I had worked on the yard, getting a nice lawn, and even put up a fence in the backyard.

It wasn’t necessarily my forever home, but it was supposed to be my forever town. Lynn and I talked about fixing up the house, selling it for a profit, and buying something bigger.

All those fucking plans went up in smoke.

Was that what I was trying to do with Joy? I was trying to insert her into the hole Lynn left?

Inside, my house felt too quiet, too empty, the silence emphasizing the questions I’d been avoiding. I opened a beer and settled into my armchair, but instead of turning on the television, I found myself staring at the wall and taking a long, hard look at what I actually wanted.

After Lynn had fucked me over so completely, I hadn’t thought I would ever feel any kind of warmth or affection for another woman. The betrayal had been so thorough and so devastating, I convinced myself I was better off alone. Safer that way. Less vulnerable to the kind of pain that could knock you sideways and leave you questioning everything you thought you knew about love and trust and commitment.

But Joy had a way of breaking through all my carefully constructed defenses like they weren’t even there. She made me laugh. She made me want to take chances. She made me remember what it felt like to look forward to something, to someone.

And sex.

Damn, I missed sex. I had spent a long year celibate, and now that I had a taste of the good stuff, I couldn’t imagine going back to the self-imposed chastity. But I also couldn’t imagine sex with anyone other than Joy.

For the first time in a long time, I thought I might have another shot at happiness. Real happiness, not just the quiet contentment I’d been telling myself was enough.

But what if Katrina was right? What if Joy was just passing through, using our connection as a pleasant diversion while she figured out her next move? What if I let myself fall for her completely, only to watch her drive away when something better came along?

The thought of Joy leaving hit me with unexpected force. Not just leaving, but running away again, the way she had all those years ago when she’d kissed me and then disappeared from my life entirely.

That would destroy me. I knew it with absolute certainty. If I let Joy all the way into my heart, if I let myself believe in a future with her, and then she decided Calton Hill wasn’t enough for her after all, I wouldn’t survive it. No way.

But the alternative meant keeping her at arm’s length and protecting myself from the possibility of pain. It meant giving up on something that already felt more real and right than anything I’d ever experienced.

I finished my beer and stared out the window. I was no closer to an answer than I had been when I sat down. All I knew for certain was that Katrina was right about one thing: Joy and I needed to have a conversation about what we were doing and where we thought it was going.

The question was whether I was brave enough to risk finding out that our answers didn’t match.

Or worse, whether I was strong enough to handle it if they did match, and Joy decided she wanted something I couldn’t give her.

Everything suddenly felt a lot more complicated than it had a few hours ago.