Page 115 of Where Roads Lead

I couldn’t handle that either.

God, how was I ever going to look him in the eyes again?

“Goodnight, Will,” I said quickly, running inside before I could meltdown in front of him. “Breathe, Elsie, breathe,” I coached myself through the waves of panic threatening to pull me under. “Everything is fine. Nothing happened. No lines were crossed.”

Too wired to write, I sent the most recent pages I’d typed over to the printer so I could read over what I’d written to make sure everything was still somewhat coherent.

And figure out how the hell I’d written Ellie and Hugh into an almost kiss, and then ended up in that exact situation myself moments later.

I paced the kitchen, reading each page of the manuscript with analyzing eyes, trying to figure out where the story got sidetracked. But it wasn’t making sense; I needed the full picture.

I went back to the start, reading every single chapter over—the entirety of what I’d written in all the time I’d been here.

Ellie hating Hugh. Hugh hating Ellie. The reluctant friendship formed by the necessity of their circumstances. The accidental meetings that kept pushing them together. The banter, the conversations, and the late nights they seemed to keep sharing.

And when I got to the end, that last part I’d written, the kiss made perfect sense.

“Oh my God,” I gasped, clutching the papers to my chest in horror. “I wrote an enemies-to-lovers.”

Chapter Thirty-Three

Will

Well, I certainly wasn’t sad anymore.

Ashamed, maybe. Frustrated. Confused at what the hell possessed me to do what I just did.

What the hell was wrong with me? Dumping a bucket of emotional baggage onto Elsie and then trying to kiss her?

It’s a wonder she didn’t call the cops on me, because clearly I was out of my mind. She should have. Just another sign of her bad instincts, I guess.

I slammed the steering wheel in a burst of anger at myself right as I turned onto the dark road leading up to my house.

I was never more glad to live in such relative isolation. I could scream at myself all night, with no neighbors to hear me (Thank you, Grandpa Joe, for building a cabin on the lake where no other person had thought to build one).

I couldn’t get over what an asshole move I’d pulled. I mean, the girl had told me herself she’d just got her heart broken, and while I wasn’t exactly experienced with the ordeal of heartbreak myself, I knew enough that people needed a little bit of time to move on from it.

She needed a friend, not another guy feeding into the stereotype that guys only hung around girls in the hopes of getting something more from them.

The truth was, I’d take anything I could get from Elsie—even if that only meant friendship. She made me laugh. She put me at ease. And she made my days a whole lot better by being part of them.

And I might’ve screwed it all up by trying to kiss her.

Yet despite it all, a part of me still hated that damn cat for interrupting before I got the chance to make the best mistake of my life.

I hoped no one would ask me what possessed me to string up cardboard turkeys around the café, because the only answer I could give was: Elsie Cameron.

She and her obsessive need for festivity. I didn’t really understand what some cheap decorations really did for her, but it took so little to make her smile that I didn’t mind setting aside my pride. Even when I knew I’d get a few comments and maybe some pointed looks from the regulars who had never known me to be the type of guy to decorate for the holidays.

“This is new,” Theo said, looking around with raised brows.

Damn, I’d forgotten he was on the early shift.

“Yeah, well, people like the holidays. Figured I’d give them something to keep coming in for.”

“Right.” Theo nodded slowly.

Truth was, customers would come if I cut half the menu and burned every pot of coffee I brewed, if for no other reason than we were the only café in town.