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I grit my teeth, not wanting to answer him because I don’t really know how.
“Yeah, pity you fucked up, Leland. Fucked up good. But I bet Willa’s still ready to spread for you.”
“Crass, asshole.” I shudder. “What do you mean when she goes?”
“That job offer?” He looks me up and down. “Yeah, thought you knew. And yet you did nothing about it.”
“I . . .” He’s right, I didn’t. But what was I meant to do?
“Should have, but maybe there’s time for you to stop being a moron.”
“Isaac,” I say his name like a warning.
“She took the job.” His eyes glitter with amusement, like he’s laughing at me, and for a friend, he’s doing a terrible job right now. “She’s leaving.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Sarah
Leland stalks over to me, looking utterly devastating in his suit as I talk with his parents.
“Excuse us,” he growls, grabbing me and hauling me off and out the door.
I tug at my hand to no avail. “Let me go. Why are you so mad? I’m mad at you. And I didn’t choose to talk to your parents, they talked to me.”
He stops on the path and turns to me. “What’s wrong with them? Didn’t you want to talk to them?”
“They’re nice. I liked them. Your mom is sweet, and your dad is someone you could take lessons from.” I try and stop and pull free when he starts stalking off, but his hand is a vice and people are looking.
“Get in.”
We’re at his truck. I could run, but I’m in heels and a dress. The mood this maniac is in makes me think he’d tackle me to the ground if I made a run for it. “Fine.”
I flounce over—there’s no other way to describe how I walk in stupid heels—to the passenger side and climb in, slamming the door.
He nods, sends me a dark look, climbs in on his side, and starts the motor. He drives us away from the wedding and up a winding path that seems to go on for a while, the trees either side giving a screen of privacy from the wildlife.
Leland doesn’t speak, and neither do I.
He pulls over at the top of a hill, on a clearing, and as we get out, there’s a lake below. It’s breathtaking; I haven’t been up here at night, and with the moonlight spilling silver on it, doubly so.
Leland is even more breathtaking. I could love him.
I almost stagger. Is . . . is that why I’ve fought him so hard? Been all over the place? I love this man?
I poke and prod and it settles, spreading through me like something that just is. A complete proof.
Oh, shit.
I’m in love with Leland Conley, a man who doesn’t do love, happily ever after, and marriage. I swallow, my eyes burning.
“Hey.”
“What?”
He laughs softly. “The story of us. A push-pull of a fucking dance. Speaking of . . .”
Leland reaches into the truck and turns on the radio. It’s some love song, because of course it is.
