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Rose was staring at him with those eyes that told him she wasn’t ready for a conversation he knew they needed to have. It wouldn’t be fair to her if he stayed, but he also didn’t want to drive in this storm. Mike glanced at Ethan, who shrugged and headed inside.
That was that, then. He was spending the night with the whole Reese clan, along with Rose and Ethan. He trudged toward the house, his boots slipping in the mud more than once. When he got to the top of the stairs, he pulled off his sodden boots and put them next to several pairs that were already situated against the house.
Rose gave him one last look before she headed inside and he followed after her, shutting the door behind him.
Katrina and Rose, along with all the women who were married to the Reese men, rushed to the kitchen while the men moved furniture in the living room and got a fire going. Food was set out and beds were made from the family’s stash of sleeping bags.
Everyone around Mike seemed comfortable, like they belonged here.
Everyone but Mike.
He couldn’t help but feel like he was still on the outside looking in. It didn’t matter how kind everyone was, it didn’t matter how Katrina attempted to pull him into a conversation with her husband. Mike would always be an outsider.
A conversation with Rose came tearing to the front of his mind. Once upon a time, she’d said she would have preferred never to experience having her dreams become a reality because losing it after having those experiences was much more painful.
Mike had had a taste of what it would be like to be welcomed in a family like this one, in a community like Rocky Ridge. And he’d been stupid enough to let it slip through his fingers. First, he’d stolen the materials to fix up his grandfather’s place, then he’d hurt Rose with his insecurities. Why couldn’t he just be the man his grandfather had wanted him to be?
He glanced at Rose, finding her staring. The moment she realized he’d caught her, she looked away. He’d definitely ruined any chance he had with her. By pushing her toward the art world only to flip everything around, it was no wonder she’d grown cold around him tonight. She was treating him like they hadn’t just spent several weeks together.
Mike needed to cut his losses now before either one of them really ended up hurting.
He woke early the next morning and slipped out of the house before anyone else was awake. He drove the long way to his grandfather’s house, but the second he pulled up to it, his heart sank.
One side of the roof had been completely caved in from a fallen tree. It appeared as though the wind had split the whole thing down the middle. Half stood erect, while the other half had been smashed badly enough that there was no way the money Rose had raised would fix it.
All that work for nothing. He’d never be able to fix it up and sell the place now. At this point, he had only two choices. He could walk away, allowing it to become condemned and eventually sold at auction. Or he could reach out to the lawyer and have the developer take it off his hands.
He felt utterly sick to his stomach. Neither of those options would be good for anyone. Hot anger burned and roiled within him. He charged toward the house and up the stairs to where he had left the duffle he’d returned to town with.
He didn’t have much to his name. He’d leave with the stuff he had arrived with—a pack on his back filled with a few clothes and a couple odds and ends.
Mike headed out of the house just as Rose arrived. Her eyes were wet with the tears he couldn’t bring himself to shed. He stopped, frozen from her pitying gaze.
“Mike… I’m so sorr?—”
He brushed past her. “You don’t have to say anything. This is just how life works out for me.”
She reached for him, but he avoided her touch. “You don’t really believe that, do you?”
Mike tossed his duffle in the back of his truck. “Good things don’t happen to bad people, Rose. It’d be in your best interest for you to stay far away from me. I’m done with this place, and I’m done with Rocky Ridge. Good luck with everything you want to do.”
“Mike—” she called, but he shut the door before he could hear what she had to say.
Good riddance.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Rose watched Mike drive away and couldn’t shake the feeling of emptiness. When she’d woken up that morning, she’d expected to find him sleeping soundly where she’d left him the night before.
When she noticed his sleeping bag rolled up and put away, she panicked. There was no logical explanation for her reaction. They’d been at odds with one another. But something had pushed her to speak to him about what was bothering her.
She’d hoped they could talk about her art. Mike had always been the guy she could go to who would support her dreams.
Until yesterday.
Rose turned to the house and headed for the door. It hung open from when Mike had hurried out. One side of the house looked in shambles, but the other side—the side with the studio—was still in good condition. She glanced over her shoulder, half-expecting Mike to come back, park in front of the house, and tell her he wanted her help to fix this.
Deep down, she knew that wasn’t going to happen. Mike had hit his threshold. She’d been there; she could understand it. But it didn’t stop her from feeling the pain of abandonment.
