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My phone rings again and again, leading me to power it down. “Focus on the facts,” I chide myself as regret trickles in for not answering her call.

“She’s been keeping shit from you. Every damn time you give your heart to someone, they tear it to shreds.” My bitterramblings last the entire drive back to my house, though I don’t stay there long because everywhere I look is a memory of her.

In the short time we’ve been together, there’s not a part of my life she hasn’t touched. She’s met my entire family, minus my mom. She’s scattered pictures of us all throughout my house and hers. Shit, she even brought one of her Grams’ quilts over here to keep a piece of the woman who raised her close when she sleeps here.

Fed the fuck up with my warring emotions, I stomp back to my truck, and I just drive. Everywhere and nowhere. I drive for hours upon hours until finally landing at my workshop. Here, maybe I’ll find the peace I need. Myla Rose has never stepped foot into this space, and thank God for it, because throwing myself into work may be the only way to scrub my brain of the events of the day.

I flip on the overheads, as well as my spotlights, only to come face-to-face with the crib I poured my blood, sweat, tears, heart, and soul into. “FUCK!” I roar before throwing a tarp over it. “Out of sight, out of mind.” I repeat the mantra a few times before beginning the actual build of the project I’ve been working on.

With each swing of the hammer, a new emotion fights for control.

Sadness—swing.Anger—swing.Guilt—swing.Rage—swing.Jealousy—swing.Again and again, until my mind’s a mess and the piece is complete.

Too tired to drive home, I pass out on the small couch in my even smaller office.

Done. I’m done.

CHAPTER 39

MYLA ROSE

I can’t breathe.I’m gasping, but I can’t breathe. My heart is lodged in my throat, effectively cutting off my air.

Watching Cash’s taillights, my brain keeps replaying the events that led me here, knowing deep down that this pain, this ache, is a byproduct of my own stupidity.

I woke up sporting the same perma-smile I’ve had since meeting Cash, and it only got brighter when his name flashed across my phone screen as I sipped from my second cup of coffee. Even though our call was brief, his voice was just what I needed to put me at ease about Kathy Mills being on my book today. That’s just one more secret I’ve been keeping. Cash has no clue I’m still doing her hair, and I just couldn’t bring myself to tell him.

When I walk into the salon, I’m met with the normal hustle and bustle of the day, but there’s also a chill in the air. Upon closer inspection, the smiles AzzyJo and Seraphine are wearing look forced—contrite, even. “What’s good this morning?” I ask to cut the tension.

“Not much, Myles,” Seraphine says with a small shrug. “Please know I tried to stop him.”

Her words have me on a wire’s edge, and the second I round the partition to my station, I see the problem. My chair is occupied by none other than my ex.Why the fuck. . .

“Myla, Myla, Myla. Shame on you for keeping me waiting. You know how I feel about promptness.”

Gaping at him, I hiss, “Why are you in—my—chair?”

“Use your deductive reasoning skills, doll face.” I pale at the use of his pet name for me, words I’d have gladly paid a million times over to never hear again. Taylor lets out a loud, exasperated sigh. “Obviously, I need a haircut, Myla. And we need to talk.”

“We have absolutely nothing to talk about,” I bite out, my hands on my hips. “Less than nothing.” I turn to walk away from him, but he reaches out and roughly grabs my wrist. His grip is hard, unrelenting. “LET ME GO!” I shout at him.

“Myla, really. You’re making a scene.” With his grip still firm on my arm, he all but drags me toward the shampoo area. “Shut your damn mouth.”

With more bravery than I feel, I bark at him, “Thought you wanted a haircut?”

He lets out a cruel laugh. “Like I’d trust you to cut my hair. No, I’m here for us to talk.” He tugs me further into the room, away from listening ears. “Well, I’ll talk. You’ll listen. Do what I’m saying, and maybe I won’t take that baby from you.”

Jerking back as if he’s dealt a physical blow, my eyes glisten with unshed tears. Resigned, I stand quietly and listen to the bullshit he spews. He still has a tight hold on my wrist, and the more agitated he becomes, the harder he jerks me around by it.

I place my free arm to his chest to push him away, but he only pulls me closer. Muttering on and on about nothing. I think he’s lost it. I glance up, hoping to be able to signal to Azalea to call someone.

Instead, I see Cash’s eyes glaring down at me, clouding over with hurt. Next thing I know, Taylor’s sealing his lips to mine, and I can’t seem to get him off me.

With great effort, I remove his lips from mine. Cash looks murderous. “Mmm, Myla, damn. I forgot how good you taste.” I move my eyes from Cash to Taylor, shocked at his vulgar words, and by the time I look back to Cash, he’s gone.

All I had to do was talk to him. Open up about Taylor’s texts and come to him with honesty. Instead, I lied, and now he’s gone.How can someone live without their heart?

I’m still standing frozen on the sidewalk in front of the salon when Drake’s truck slides into the spot where Cash’s had just been. “Myles, I came as soon as Azalea called.” His words are cautious, and he approaches me warily. “Are you okay?”