Page 121 of Not Until I Found You

After telling Maxinne that we needed some space, my mind spun itself into circles until nearly sunrise. Every time I close my eyes, I see her face standing in my driveway, the confusion written in her expression. I’m haunted by the hurt that settled into her eyes after I agreed with her mom instead of standing beside her like I should have.

I keep trying to convince myself I did the right thing. It seemed like the most responsible choice to make, but no matter how many times I repeat it, the truth keeps catching up with me: that space is the exact opposite of what I want for us.

What I want is for her to be curled against my side on the couch again, her laugh filling the space while Sven fights for her attention. I want to hear her humming as she waters the plants, the soft melody drifting through the house until I catch myself smiling without realizing it. I want her stealing fries off my plate when she thinks I’m not looking, only to grin when I catch her anyway.

I want her here. But wanting her and being good for her aren’t necessarily the same thing. I keep choking down this thought as I drag the tape measure across another sheet of drywall, jot down the measurement, then stare at the numbers. They aren’t making any sense. With a frustrated sigh, I measure it again for the fourth time. The numbers haven’t changed.

“Zane,” Ryland’s voice cuts across the room, pulling me back into focus.

I glance up from the half-finished measurements, blinking against the haze clouding my thoughts.

“You’re off by almost two inches.”

I look back down, and sure enough, the pencil marks I made aren’t even close to where they should be. I mutter under my breath as I scrub a hand over the back of my neck. Drywall dust clings to my skin, sticking there beneath the thick heat already settling around us, even this early in the morning.

“Sorry. I’ll redo it,” I state before measuring again.

Ryland studies me, probably debating whether or not he wants to try to figure out what’s wrong with me. Thankfully, he doesn’t. He gives me a slow nod before turning back toward the kitchen renovation we’ve been working on all week.

Normally, I’d already be halfway through hanging cabinet frames by now, but today I can barely hold a thought together long enough to measure a wall. I know what the problem is. My mind isn’t here; it’s back at the cabins.

Back to this morning, when I was standing at my kitchen window with a cup of coffee, while I watched Maxinne shove several bags into the backseat of her car. Her mom stood nearby, talking about something I couldn’t hear. Maxinne barely responded to her, only nodding every now and then while her gaze wandered toward my cabin time and time again.

Every instinct begged me to go outside, walk across the yard, pull her aside, and tell her I didn’t mean any of it the way it came out. She deserves to know that I wasn’t trying to push her away. That this whole thing has been clawing me apart since the second I walked away and then again when I sent that stupid text message. But I stayed where I was, hidden behind the window like a coward.

The second I saw her standing there with her bag packed, one thought hit me so hard it nearly knocked the air from my lungs. If she stayed after everything that happened last night, would she be staying because it was truly what she wanted? Or would it be because of me?

The question keeps eating at me because Maxinne already put her life on hold once for a man who did everything he could to make her world smaller. I refuse to become another version of that story, even if by accident. She deserves the chance to choose her future without me standing in the middle of it, even if that future eventually takes her away from me.

The thought cuts deep enough that I tighten my grip on the tape measure until the metal edge bites into my palm. Across the room, a drill whirs to life while someone laughs near the open garage door, but the noise is muffled beneath the constant replay of last night running through my head.

“Hey,” Ashton’s voice pulls me back again as he steps up beside me holding two trim boards beneath one arm. “I talked to Maxinne since you won’t tell me what’s going on with you.”

I keep my attention on the drywall in front of me, dragging the tape measure back in with more force than necessary. “There’s not much to talk about.”

“That’s interesting,” Ashton replies flatly. “Because according to my sister, there’s a whole lot to talk about.”

I finally glance over at him and immediately regret it. His jaw is tight, eyes narrowed beneath the brim of his hat, the trim boards tucked harder against his side, like he’s trying to keep his irritation under control. He has every right to be upset with me.

I let out a slow breath and drop the tape measure onto the counter beside me. “I don’t really know how to explain everything.”

“Well, figure it out.” Ashton’s frustration finally breaks through. “Because from where I’m standing, you spent weeks falling for my sister, only to tell her you need space the second things got complicated.”

I flinch hard enough that his expression shifts immediately afterward, some of the anger giving way to guilt. I scrub a hand down my face before I step away from the kitchen. The house suddenly closes in on me, the noise becoming too loud, and there’s too many watchful eyes.

“Zane—”

“I need some air,” I grunt, shoving myself through the open garage door.

I step into the thick summer heat, sunlight glaring off the house’s windows enough to make me squint. Humidity hangs heavy in the air, wrapping around me instantly as I walk toward the stack of lumber near the trailer parked out front.

Footsteps stomp behind me, and I stop near the sawhorses, bracing my hands against my hips as I stare out toward the road. Ashton comes up beside me and releases an exhale as he runs a hand through his beard.

“You hurt her.” Ashton’s words scrape down my spine.

“I know.”

“And I don’t understand why.”