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“And her location?”
“Had she wanted you to know, she would’ve told you.”
“Max, fuck. I need to find her.” I press my palm to my head as I stand from the bed and begin to pace.
“She hasn’t relinquished her free will just because you’ve been slapped in the face with the realization that you love her. I get that you fucked up, but what you’re asking isn’t about her safety. I can’t help you.”
Dead air fills the line, and I know the motherfucker hung up on me. I resist the urge to throw my phone across the room, pissed that he’s not going to help.
I pace for a few seconds before remembering the other contact I have in my phone. I talked to Wren Nelson, the IT specialist for Blackbridge Security, several times while we were looking for Grace.
“Hey, man,” the guy says when the line connects.
“Hey, listen, I—”
“Not gonna happen, man.”
“Oh, you fucked up!”
I grind my teeth at the squawked words from the parrot in the background.
“Max called already?”
“Texted,” Wren says.
“I have to find her,” I mutter, desperate for anyone to help fix what I managed to fuck up by not just telling her how I felt.
“She’s still in Denver,” he says. “That’s the most I can tell you.”
“Don’t do it,” Puff Daddy squawks. “Love is a trap.”
“Don’t listen to my bird,” Wren mutters. “He’s an idiot.”
“You’re the idiot! Life was perfect until you got that fucking cat!”
“Thanks, man.”
I hang up the phone. Knowing she’s still in Denver helps, but it still makes it impossible to find her.
I try her cell again. This time it goes directly to voicemail.
“Call me. Please, baby. Just call me.”
I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to wait. It seems like I’ve been waiting for this moment for twelve years. I should probably just sit and wait for Ugly to be ready and then head back to New Mexico. I tried to profess my love for her before, and she wasn’t ready for it then.
She’s proving she doesn’t want it now as well.
I growl, kicking the fucking dresser with those thoughts in my head.
She may not want me, and if that’s the case, I have to accept it, but I won’t let her shut me down this time. I have to get it all out. I have to hear from her lips that it’s over for good.
I’ll never be able to go on with my life without getting that from her.
Chapter 36
Grace
I avoid calling my aunt while sitting in the small coffee shop a few blocks from the hotel. At first, I bargained with myself that I would wait until a decent hour even though I take into account the time difference between Colorado and Tennessee. I refuse to think about the fact that Diane is always up with the sun and would be drinking coffee on the porch right now.
I just can’t tell her that I have to come crawling back home because the man I want to spend my life with needs me to be something I can’t. My heart doesn’t allow me to acknowledge that he wouldn’t want me at all, just that I can’t be one of the girls he likes to fuck but can’t commit to.
The three cups of coffee I drank sours in my stomach, but I just can’t bring myself to eat anything as thoughts of how I could’ve done things since leaving Nebraska to get a different outcome swirl through my head.
The end is always the same. I can’t change him, and I can’t change for him.
We’re at a crossroads of incompatibility, and it stings.
No, it’s more than a stinging pain. It’s crushing and eye-opening all at the same time.
I dry my eyes with the well-used napkin in my hand and take a deep breath. I had accepted long ago that things between Trenton and me would never happen, and this little trip down memory lane with him should only be seen as bonus memories I should be lucky to have.
I drop a ten on the table and leave the coffee shop, unsure of what to do next. I have all of my important things with me, including my ID and debit card. I could easily book a flight and be back in Tennessee by dinner time, but I just can’t seem to pull the trigger on it.
This city doesn’t carry any good memories for me. Although I was born in Denver and spent the first third of my life here, I’ve never referred to it as home. I had a roof over my head as a child, but the place I moved to in Tennessee is the only place that felt like home. It was a place without judgement and abuse, without someone screaming at me and making me feel worthless.
“Josie,” I whisper as I pull up short on the sidewalk.
