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“No. It’s something I need to do on my own.” Her voice hardens like she’s getting impatient.
A muffled, high-pitched noise comes from inside the house. Jess’s eyes widen for a fraction of a second, and she casts another worried glance over her shoulder.
I take a step forward, ready to investigate what caused the sound. “What was that?” My gaze darts up the staircase.
She puts her hand on my chest. “It was nothing. Just Bailey. Upstairs.”
Bailey’s nose pokes between Jess’s leg and the doorjamb. The noise comes again from upstairs.
“That wasn’t nothing, Jess.” My Marine instincts kick in, and I make a move to push past her to investigate the sound.
She blocks me with her body, her forehead pinched into a scowl. “Troy, this isn’t going to work.”
I frown. “What isn’t going to work?”
“You. Me. I…I don’t think I can be your girlfriend anymore.” She swallows. “In fact…in fact, I know I can’t be your girlfriend.”
My chest tightens, squeezing the air from my lungs. “You don’t mean that.” Shit, she’d better not mean it. She’s just…she’s just overreacting. About something.
Sadness flashes in her expression, so quick I wonder if I imagined it. “This. Us,” she says, her voice cracking. “It’s moving too fast for me, Troy. I need a break.”
“A break? Already? We haven’t been together all that long.” Breathe before you screw this up even more. “I’m not your fucking late husband. You don’t have to push every man away just because you’re afraid they’ll turn out like him.”
“I don’t push every man away. I haven’t pushed your brothers away.”
“You aren’t dating my brothers!”
She flinches, and my stomach twists into a painful knot. I think back to Friday night and the past two days in the mountains. Kellan.
When we were kids, whenever Kellan did something that would get him in a shitload of trouble, he had a certain tell on his face I recognized. It was the same tell he wore this weekend whenever his gaze landed my way.
But I know my brother would never hook up with a girl I’m dating. So what the hell is going on between them?
“You’ve been distant this past week,” I press on, my voice gruff. “Why?”
“I told you, I’ve been busy.”
“Why do I get the feeling there’s another secret? No matter what I do to prove you can trust me, you still keep secrets from me.”
“Well, I guess I can’t keep secrets from you if we’re no longer dating.” Anger scolds her words.
“So that’s it?” Bitterness snakes its way through me, spreading its poisonous venom. “You’re going to put that goddamn wall back up again?”
“I guess so.” She winces and releases a hard breath. “I’ll keep working for you until you can find my replacement. I…I mean unless you don’t want me to come in tomorrow.”
A small part of me wants to tell her not to bother to show up. But I can’t do that. She needs a job, and I have no intention of being the asshole who leaves her unemployed. No one will want to hire her if they think she’s a quitter. She already quit working for Zara because it was too stressful with the PTSD.
“You don’t have to quit working for me. I’m not the asshole boss who fires his employee because she won’t date him. We can be cordial to each other.” Except my tone doesn’t suggest I can be cordial, the pain in my heart stealing my ability to keep my tone neutral.
“Thanks, Troy.” Her voice is a soft whisper that grips my splintering heart with sharp talons. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” She opens the door wider and retreats inside.
I stand on the porch for a minute, going through everything that just happened. Then I stalk to my truck, climb inside, and reverse out of the driveway onto the street.
I keep driving until I get to the cabins where Butterscotch is waiting for me. I grab a beer from the icebox by the firepit where everyone is sitting and drop my ass into an empty chair.
“How’s the old woman doing?” one of the guys asks with a chuckle. “Must be pretty serious between you two, given how fast you flew out of here when we got back.”
“She’s fine.” I chug down some beer. “It’s not serious. I just wanted to check on her.”
