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“I came here to apologize,” I say, focusing on my hands.
He holds back a smile. “Apologize? Sweetheart, I think we are well past apologies. Let’s call whatever this was quits, and we can go back to our lives. Perhaps we aren’t meant for each other. I’ll sell you the house if that’s what you want. I need to get back on the road anyway. Why don’t you just go.” The grin is long gone now. His face is all hard lines, like a mask.
“Go? But I came back,” I say, feeling my stomach drop. I don’t want to, I’m done leaving him.
“Go.” He turns his back to me, impatience radiating from his body.
“I’m not going,” I state.
When he turns, one brow rises up, questioning me. “You’re not?” Every word is underlined with disbelief.
“I’m not.”
He walks away from me, yanking open the side bag on his Harley. He throws a Manila folder my way, and I catch it midair. “I fucking signed your divorce papers.”
“You shouldn’t have done that.” Looking through the paperwork, my throat closes when I spot his signature at the bottom.
“Fuck, stop playing with my heart.” He shakes his head, the pain in his voice unmistakable. He scrubs a hand over his stubble, trying to hide the small smile I see tugging on his lips. “Did I forget to sign something?” Rubbing at the grease spot on his cheek, he smears it all over.
My smile falls. “No,” I say, tearing up the pages and letting them fall to the concrete floor.
He takes a step back, then a couple toward me, his eyes flashing. His chest moves up and down like he’s run a mile.
“Why did you do that?” His voice is hoarse and deep.
“Because I still lo—” I swallow back my words. I feel the heat from his body, his smell intoxicating me.
My eyes go wide at the sight of a dozen or so half empty moonshine bottles lying on the workbench. That lying son of a bitch!
His cheeks flare. “What?” he asks, coming to a halt in front of me. His eyes blaze angrily.
I look at my cowboy boots. “I don’t know what I want anymore,” I admit, trying to find my voice.
His eyes roam over me. He barks out a laugh. “I guess we both do, love and hate are your only two emotions when it comes to me.” His brows draw tight together.
“I don’t know. Not when you are ...” I say, motioning to the bottles. I take a step back. “You lied to me.” Tears blurring my vision.
“You think I lied?” he bellows.
“Don’t give me that shit. You’re drinking again, aren’t you?”
“You think after everything, I would go back? You still don’t believe me?”
“There is my proof,” I cry, holding up my hands and pointing to the bottles again. “I can’t do this.”
Taking a deep breath, he brushes both hands through his hair. That angry scowl on his face never falters and his jaw twitches. “Yeah, you’re right.”
“I need to go,” I say, my voice breaking.
“Fucking go then.” The hurt in his voice tears my heart right open and I know I need to walk away, like I’ve done so many times before.
