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“I didn’t ask you to,” she said. “You’re putting words in my mouth, making decisions without even asking me how we can make this work. I wasn’t alone in that bed last night. It wassomething. It wasn’t simple, and yes, we need to talk about it, but it wasn’t nothing.” She narrowed her eyes. “What happened?”
“Nothing.”
It was the first time I’d outright lied to her. It tasted horrible—acidic and raw.
For the first time, her eyes filled with tears. “You’re lying. I can hear it in your voice.”
I clenched my jaw. “I know you don’t want to hear this, but I think once you get some distance, you’ll see that I’m right to leave now.”
Charlotte exhaled slowly. “I know things changed. I know we broke our own rules. But at least I’m brave enough to be willing to see what that means for us, no matter how much it scares me.”
I wanted her anger.
I wanted her to snap at me, to curse and tell me not to be such a patronizing asshole.
I wanted her to call me a coward.
But she didn’t.
When I didn’t respond, her eyes were sad. Resigned. Determined.
“It’s so tempting to feel stupid for falling in love with you, Burke,” she whispered. That whisper—soft and sure and deadly—was like an arrow. And I saw it in her eyes when she pulled back, notched it into place, and aimed it straight at my chest. I braced for impact. “No. I’m stupid for believing that you’re strong enough to admit you’re in love with me too.”
She took a step back, cleared a path for me to walk out of the room.
It was the hardest thing I’d ever done—to nod at her statement.
To not reach for her when I passed.
Wrap her in my arms and tell her that she was right and that I wanted her to help me figure out what to do with all the things she’d said.
But that wouldn’t help. Not her, and not me.
I let out a slow breath and lowered my gaze. I picked up my suitcase and straightened, careful not to brush against her when I walked out.
Chapter Thirty-One
BURKE
Tansy took one look at me when I walked through the front door—far earlier than she ever expected me to return—and wisely said nothing.
Twenty-four hours later, she’d had her fill of staying quiet.
“What happened?”
I met her gaze unflinchingly. “It’s none of your business, Tans.”
She arched an eyebrow. “It’s my business because you’re stomping around my house like a preteen with a temper tantrum. If you don’t want to talk about it, fine, but quit acting like a child.”
Finally, I flinched, breaking the stare and walking out onto the back deck.
I didn’t worry about the unopened letter on my nightstand.
I didn’t think about Charlotte.
William texted me the kinds of questions that she used to ask, and I wondered what he knew.
I dug through the boxes from our dad’s house that Tansy had never opened, searching through albums. Staring at pictures of our mom. Of my parents together. All the houses we lived in.
