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I’m sorry, Mia. I’m such an ass.
He started shaving down the threading on the pump, solving the gasket problem once and for all. Wishing he could solve the problem of his life as easily.
How was it possible she loved him? he wondered. Though, he had to admit, her parents, Sandra and A.J., wildly unlike his own parents, had been good role models in that department. Their marriage had been a solid one, a loving one until A.J.’s death five and a half years ago. After that, Victoria had gone all the way off her rocker and tried to kick Mia’s whole family off the ranch.
But at what point had he earned Mia’s love? Childhood, he supposed, those rooftop trips. He’d seen the hero worship, hell, everyone had seen that. He was just never aware that it had turned into something else.
He sifted through his feelings, taking each one out to examine it, testing its weight and strength. Affection and lust he had in spades. Concern. Respect. Was it an equation? he wondered. If he added up all those things, would the end result be love?
He didn’t think so.
Love was something else, not that he was entirely sure what it was, but it had to be something specific. Singular. An entity in and of itself.
And he would know it if he felt it. Right? It shouldn’t be a question. Love should be a fact.
And the fact was…he didn’t love Mia.
And if he couldn’t love Mia, maybe he just couldn’t love at all.
Go back to your life, Jack. So I can get back to mine.
He didn’t have a life to go back to. Well, not much of one.
But he owed the university some answers. That board meeting was in three weeks.
So he’d go back to San Luis Obispo and then…what?
He had money.
He brushed away a fly and looked up at the high pasture. The alpine flowers were coming up, small patches of yellow and white interrupting the carpet of vibrant green.
There weren’t many places prettier than this, and he’d seen plenty of beauty in the world. If Mia was dead set on spending the rest of her life here, he would just have to understand that.
He had enough money to handle the Rocky M’s tax problems. He would do that for her, and he’d put some money aside for his father, so that when the time came, they could get a nurse. Hospice or whatever.
The old man wouldn’t go to a nursing home. He’d die first.
He thought of the hope on Walter’s face, the very palpable wish that he could make amends for his past. And Jack didn’t know how to tell him that no amends could be made.
The past was dead. Buried.
Because he needed it to be that way.
He thought of the steel in Mia’s eyes, the pain. The pain he brought on her just by being here.
Mia was right. He needed to leave. Because he was the past for her and she needed to move on.
By afternoon, Mia’s head was floating someplace above her body and she wasn’t sure if it was relief from finally unloading her feelings, pain from being rejected or just extreme weariness.
Either way, she had to hope that one more cup of caffeine was going to fix that little problem.
She wasn’t sure what would help the throbbing ache in her chest.
Time, maybe. Having Jack gone, probably. But she knew, in her gut, it was going to hurt a whole lot worse before it ever got better.
“You know,” Chris said, coming up behind her in the barn where she was saddling Blue. “We can wait to move the cattle for a few weeks.”
“Not really, Chris,” she said, giving in to a yawn that nearly cracked her jaw. “And you know it. If you’re going to tell me to take a nap, I think I’ll tell you to go away.”
“Okay then, I won’t mention it.”
“Great. Anything else you need to discuss?”
Chris pursed his lips. “Jack’s been a whole lot of help the last few days. That man’s not afraid of work.”
The mention of his name made her sad. So sad. There was no other way to put it. The last few days, having him around, working, had been a dream.
One that she’d just ended.
Go back to your life, so I can get on with mine.
Who knew how long he might have stayed had she not told him about her feelings.
Well, she scoffed, long enough to sell the ranch. Let’s not get too carried away here, Mia.
“He’ll be leaving soon,” she said, and grabbed a set of hand tools from the tack room.
“Mia,” he sighed. “Just take a break—”
“I’ll hit the sack early tonight,” she promised Chris, whose blue eyes were worried.
“I can practically see through you, Mia.”
Her fuzzy brain didn’t have a quick comeback, so she just scooted past him with a smile and mounted Blue, who shook back his mane and stomped with enthusiasm.
