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Angling her gaze up to meet mine, that perfect mouth of hers open on a protest, it dies in her throat when I slide my hand around the back of her neck, holding her captive while I stare down at her, still trying to convince myself that she’s real. Letting my gaze fall to the hands she has folded in her lap, I look at them, just to be sure.
There’s no ring.
Wherever it is, she’s not wearing it.
I’m more relieved by that than I have a right to be.
Not wearing the ring that asshole put on her finger doesn’t make her any less engaged, moron, and you know it—you just don’t care.
What does that make you?
Who does that make you?
Yeah, she’s engaged… but not by choice.
Marrying that Morris fuck isn’t what she wants. If it were, she wouldn’t be here. I tell myself that’s all that matters—that I’m not breaking anything because there’s nothing to break. Even though she said yes, Kait doesn’t want to marry him. She never wanted to marry him.
Doesn’t matter.
You should send her away.
Damien is right. You’re going to leave her behind and broken or not—real or not—she’s going to be left to pick up the pieces.
It’s the right thing to do.
What I promised my brother I would do.
And I’m the worst kind of asshole because yeah—I really don’t care. All I care about is that she’s here.
She came back.
Why doesn’t even matter.
“We also agreed that you’d stop cleaning up after me,” I remind her quietly while I stroke my thumb against the underside of her chin. “If I have to put up with you scrubbing my toilet and making my coffee then you’re just going to have to get used to being stared at, Sunshine.”
“If I don’t do those things then there’s no reason for me to be here,” she admits, those wide blue eyes of hers searching mine. “No reason for me to stay.”
“Yes, there is.” To prove it, I lower myself over her to brush my mouth against hers and I have to force myself back when I feel her breath catch in her throat. Pulling away, I look down at her. “You’ll still be here when I get back,” I say quietly. “You won’t leave while I’m gone.”
It’s not a question but she nods anyway, the line of her throat bobbing nervously against the press of my thumb. Skimming the soft line of it, I tighten my grip on her neck just enough to part her lips so I can watch the tip of her tongue brush along the loose seam of them. “Yes,” she whispers, her bright blue gaze hooked into mine. “I’ll still be here when you get back.”
“Promise.”
She nods again.
“Promise.”
Somehow I force myself to let her go. Retrieving my ball cap, I pull it on, angling the brim low across my brow. Backing away from her, I turn, pushing myself across the kitchen. Toward the front door and out onto the porch. Pulling the door closed, I head down the steps and across the drive at a slow jog, picking up speed as I go until I’m flying down the hard dirt road that will take me around the lake because the sooner I can complete the tasks on my see, I’m not obsessed with Kaitlyn Barrett checklist, the sooner I can come back to her.
THIRTY-SEVEN
Kaitlyn
I had no intention of staying.
At least that’s what I told myself.
When I saddled Two-tone this morning, I told myself that it was with the intention of emailing my professors to let them know what happened. That my horse stepped on my laptop and broke it and I’d been unable to attend classes, or even email them to let them know, until I got a replacement. Even though it’s the most Montana equivalent of my dog ate my homework I’ve ever heard, I told myself it’s the truth. It doesn’t matter that until I opened that box left on the front porch and saw the new computer, obviously from Went, I had no intention of emailing them anything. That I’d given up. Decided that fate wanted me here. Punished and tied to Brock. My future decided. A noose around my neck I had no hope of slipping.