Page 47 of The Heartbreaker Next Door

She exhaled, a sound caught somewhere between a sigh and a huff. “You’re not very good at pep talks, you know that?”

“I don’t believe in false hope,” I replied.

She stared at the darkness, then up at me. “What do you believe in?”

You. What I feel for you.

The thought entered my head totally unprovoked. It shocked me that it had been my first thought. I knew I couldn’t tell her that, no matter how tempted I was. Finally, I said, “I believe that people say they want honesty, but they can’t handle it when they get it.”

She stared at me, her face lit by moonlight shining in through the skylights. A moment passed between us, one I couldn’t quite put my finger on. I felt a magnetic pull to her, but I told myself I couldn’t go there.

Instead, I brought up a subject I’d been wanting to address for two months. It was twofold because, if any subject would remind Felicity of the boundaries she’d put in place, this would be it.

“Maverick mentioned his dad had promised to take him horseback riding, and said he’d buy him a horse.” I’d never asked any questions about the man who donated fifty percent of Maverick’s DNA, but that wasn’t because I didn’t have them.

“I’m sure he did,” she stated flatly.

“Does he see him a lot?” I asked, trying to ride the fine line of getting too personal.

She sighed, and once she started talking, it was like a dam had broken. “His dad texted me last night with a new phone number. I hadn’t heard from him in six months. My first impulse was to delete the message, but I couldn’t. When Maverick looks back at this time someday, he needs to know that I tried. I messaged him back, giving him our new address. The fact that we’ve been gone for two months and he had no clue tells you how involved he is. I don’t want him coming in and out of his life on a whim. I’ve tried to set boundaries with Tanner, for Maverick’s sake, but whenever he doesn’t get his way, he makes me feel like I’m the villain. I don’t know, maybe he’s right.”

I could see how upset Felicity was, and that she truly believed what she was saying. That she was actually doubting herself.

“You’re not the villain,” I assured her. “Villains don’t bring donuts to staff meetings and write thank-you notes to the cleaning crew.”

She let out a huff, nearly a laugh. “That is an absurdly low bar for being classified as not-the-villain.”

“It beats being a narcissist who only checks in when he needs something.”

She went silent, and I realized I’d hit something raw. I almost apologized for overstepping, but she spoke first, voice clear but trembling around the edges.

“He always promises me he’s going to change. Every time he comes back with a new job, or going to school, or a new place, he promises me things are different. Every time, I believe him a little less, but part of me still hopes. It’s pathetic, right?”

“It’s called optimism,” I said, but I felt the words catch in the back of my throat.

She turned to me. “Your turn.”

“My turn what?” I asked, honestly not sure of what I was supposed to say.

“I told you two of my greatest fears: that I’m failing Maverick and am the bad guy and the dark. What’s yours?”

I thought about it, what actually scared me. “I can’t shut off my brain. It never stops, I don’t think it ever will.”

“Do you ever wish you could turn it off?” she whispered.

“Doesn’t matter if I do. I can’t.” I looked away. “Growing up, my dad wasn’t around much.”

I rubbed the back of my neck. Shit, I hated this. But for some reason, I found myself telling her my life story. “My mom had plans. Dreams. Things she wanted before life became bills and cattle and wondering if the bank was going to take everything we had.” I stared at the floor because looking at her seemed like a spectacularly bad idea. “The ranch was always one bad year away from being gone. One drought. One bad investment. One horrible Yelp review.” My jaw tightened. “So I stepped up when I was still in high school. I learned every aspect of the business, especially the finances. I don’t think since I’ve done that, I have had a day I’m not worried.”

She didn’t say anything. Just sat quietly, giving me the time to say what I needed to say.

“I got into grad school after Princeton, but I didn’t go. During the years I was in college, my mom made a lot of improvements in the ranch, and I knew if I didn’t come back and get a handle on the finances, the ranch would have gone under. I never told anyone that.” I blew out a breath. “I thought I’d be able to go back to school later, that there’d be time later, but there wasn’t.”

“I’m sorry,” Her voice was so quiet I barely heard her.

“Nothing to be sorry about. There’s always something that needs fixing around here. A fence. A tractor. A busted pipe. Somebody’s problem.” I finally looked at her. “Turns out, if you make yourself useful enough, nobody notices you’ve built your entire life around making sure you’re never the one who needs anything.”

Her expression softened.