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It’s my burden to bear, Gabby.
GABBY: I’m not going to exhaust myself trying to reason with you when you don’t want to listen.
GABBY: I can’t help you if you don’t want to help yourself.
GABBY: I love you. Always will. You know where I am when you’re ready to see the truth.
I dropped my phone. There was no point. She wouldn’t say another word to me—she never did. There was no fighting with Gabby. There was just her saying her piece and then ignoring me for weeks to months on end. I didn’t blame her—not really. I admired her with her tenacity and ambition. I just wasn’t that person. I couldn’t just up and leave Cedar Harbor and start over for the heck of it. Even now as I raced toward that being a very real possibility for me, I hated it. It made me sick to my stomach.
Or maybe that was the wine on an empty stomach. Didn’t care. Wine helped. I grabbed the bottle and emptied it into my glass. A bottle of wine just didn’t go as far as it used to.
A knock on my door made me sit a little taller. I didn’t move otherwise and just waited.
“Nemo,” Nolan said through the door. I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood. I couldn’t face him. “Please, answer the door, Ginny. I don’t care about my business or The Treehouse. I care about you. Please, don’t go back there. We can fix this. You and me. We’re a team.”
I swallowed the sob that tried to creep its way out. Instead, I downed the rest of my glass.
“Please, Ginny,” he tried once more. “Let me help you. Don’t go back. Please.”
I let him do the talking because I didn’t know what else to say. I’d cave and break if I saw him.
“I didn’t know what to do three years ago… what to say to you… and I didn’t know how to help you then, but I’m here. I’m here now. I’ll always be here. Just… open the door.”
“Please, stop talking,” I whispered under my breath. I clamped a hand over my mouth and hoped that he didn’t hear me. Damn wolf hearing.
“I know you blame yourself, Ginny, but it’s not your fault,” Nolan said. “Losing him wasn’t your punishment.”
That was the sentence that broke me. Any chance I had of fighting back the tears was lost between wine and painful sentiments. I buried my head in my arms and sobbed.
Chapter 53
Killian
How the fuck was I dealing with shit?
By trying to be normal.
I fucking hated normal.
Normal looked like wearing a goddamn dress shirt with dress pants and fancy fucking shoes. Mom argued with me the importance of keeping my sleeves down to hide some of my tattoos—professionalism and all that crap. I counter-offered by wearing a fucking tie and I still rolled up my goddamn sleeves. There was no hiding the fact that I was tattooed anyway.
We also argued over the color of my shirt—so fucking loud that we even woke the kitchen prince from his grumpy slumber. He stumbled down the stairs half asleep, naked, and yelled at me to wear the black before crashing on the couch.
Black shoes, black shirt, black fucking tie, and my rolled-up sleeves with my tattoos showing. If Sebastian Monroe Jr. wanted to fucking hire me, he’d get all of me exactly as I was. I was a damn hard worker, but if he couldn’t see past my ink, well that was his own damn problem.
Fuck, I felt like a goddamn tool. I hadn’t worn dress clothes in fucking years. It just wasn’t me. Not anymore at least.
Much to Mom’s approval, I took my Jeep. Though, I’d been real damn tempted to take my motorcycle just for the look on her face. Yeah, I was in a fucking mood. It wasn’t her fault. I was just in a shit mood, worried about everyone, and struggling to contain my anger.
I’d buy her flowers on the way home for being stuck putting up with my grumpy ass.
I took a chance to survey the mill as I got out of my Jeep. Not a damn thing had changed since I left except for maybe some equipment upgrades. Logs, trucks, and old buildings with the scent of sawdust and water everywhere.
Why the fuck was I wearing a tie for this? Shit. Screw that. I yanked on the knot of my tie and slipped it off before I strode across the lot.
The place was slow, considering it was the end of the day, but I knew enough to know their business never slowed—especially with the expansion the company was going through. The last building was the main office among other things. I let myself in.
The woman at the front desk I didn’t recognize. She stopped typing to stare, intense gray eyes following my movements as I wandered deeper into the main foyer. Chocolate hair fell around her shoulders damn near perfectly—too perfect. How much hairspray did the fucking woman wear?
