Page 47

I twist my hands in my lap, nerves tightening my fingers as Declan and I ride in silence, the soft rumble of his small, very familiar black pickup truck filling the space between us.?

I don’t know why I feel like this, like my stomach is tied in knots, like I’m bracing for something I don’t understand. Maybe it’s because I realized just how out of the loop I really am when Declan finally came to see me in the hospital a week ago.

There’s something broken between us, something that split before my accident, and I can’t seem to wrap my head around it. And beyond that, I feel torn.

Guilt rips through my core, sharp and sudden, at the way I just looked at Hayes, correction, lusted at Hayes, my roommate. I shamelessly studied every inch of his naked torso and was practically drooling all over the stable floor thinking back to that night we spent together seven years ago.

My husband.

How the hell am I supposed to process the fact that I was ogling him an hour before going on a date with Declan?

The guy who, in my mind, is still my boyfriend—but somehow isn’t?

The guy who was my ex. My almost-fiancé.

And now… nothing. Because I turned down his proposal and ended up marrying someone else in a span of a week.

I told everyone I wasn’t confused, that I was fine, that I wasn’t freaking out like they kept expecting me to.

But suddenly, my grip on that careful control feels slippery, and I realize I might be seconds away from losing it.

I mean, hell, I just got home from the hospital.

I should probably be just chilling the fuck out instead of going out with my ex right now, but I guess it’s too late.

“How are you feeling?” Declan asks, his voice smooth and easy.

He turns his head slightly, flashing me a familiar smile.

His hand squeezes my thigh in familiarity, but I don’t touch it back.

His palm has been resting there on my leg since I climbed into his truck, warm and steady.

I liked it at first. I think? It grounds me.

Feels familiar, like how we used to ride together when we’d drive around town.

Except for one small thing. That nagging voice in the back of my head whispering that things have changed .

That, according to Molly and Rae, we haven’t been like this in months, and I shouldn’t be letting him touch me.

“I’m feeling good,” I say, clearing my throat. “No physical pain, thankfully. Maybe a little dizziness today, but I heard that’s a side effect of whiplash. It should go away eventually.”

His fingers flex gently against my thigh, his smile staying easy, and I let out a slow breath as he turns onto Main Street, pulling into the parking lot of The Barbecue Pit.

Our place.

Okay, this feels normal. This feels like us.

He hops out first, rounding the truck hood before opening my door like always, holding out a hand to help me down.

I step out with a smile, the afternoon sun catching the hem of my dress.

It’s one of my favorites—casual but put-together, red and purple flowers dotting the bodice, thin straps brushing my shoulders.

I feel beautiful in it and by the way he’s looking at me right now, I can tell he thinks so too.

He threads his fingers through mine easily, like muscle memory, and I melt just a little.

This is easy.

This is how it should be.

Why did I break up with him?

He holds the door open for me as we walk inside, straight to the register. The scent of smoked meat and hickory clings to the air, and for a second, everything feels alright. Freak out be damned. I’m going to be okay on this date tonight.

“What would you like, babe?” he asks softly.

I hesitate, scanning the menu even though I already know what I want. “Beans, mac and cheese, and a pulled pork sandwich, please.”

His smile deepens as he gives my hand another squeeze, then places our order before guiding us to a booth. He slides into one side, and I settle across from him, watching as he stretches a strong arm along the back of the seat while we wait for our food.

Declan has always been a handsome man. Strong jaw, deep brown eyes, broad shoulders.

It was his looks that caught my attention first, but it was his steady presence that kept me coming back.

He’s dependable. Reliable. Works long hours for Molly’s friend Rhett Miller’s plumbing company in town, but he’s always there when it counts.

I should want this.

I did want this.

But as I sit there, trying to reach back and pull up memories of how I felt before the accident that I don’t remember—how I remember feeling when we were together—I hit a wall.

I remember the way he’d get calls and leave in the middle of dates to pick up extra work despite not needing the money.

How sometimes, when we had sex, it wasn’t as passionate as I wanted it to be and often times left me feeling frustrated and without an orgasm that he didn’t care to try to deliver.

I remember feeling… safe. Comfortable.

But was I happy ? Was that enough?

And why do I feel like something is still missing?

What changed?

My heart pounds as I try to piece it together, as if the answer is just out of reach, teasing me from the edges of my mind. I need clarity. I need answers.

“Thank you,” I say with a bright smile as the server sets our trays of food down. The scent of smoked barbecue and creamy mac and cheese drifts upward and my stomach grumbles. I dig in eagerly, popping a forkful of food into my mouth, savoring the familiar taste.

Then, before I can overthink it, I ask, “So… will you please tell me again, from your perspective… Why did I turn down your proposal?”

Declan freezes for a fraction of a second. Barely noticeable, but I catch it. Then he winces.

Guilt slices through me. Of course, this wouldn’t be a conversation that he’d want to have, especially not again when I asked him on this date.

He exhales slowly, taking a bite of his sandwich and chewing, his jaw tight with thought.

Finally, he speaks. “You never really gave a clear answer. You told me you loved me, that you liked what we had. That you enjoyed dating me, getting to know me. But that the proposal caught you off guard. That you weren’t ready to take that step forward with me and that you thought there was someone else out there that could love me better.

Love me the way that I needed.” He pauses, shifting in his seat.

“You were about to turn thirty-years old, and I think you were... you know, evaluating shit. And then you said no to the proposal, and ended things completely because you felt it wasn’t fair to continue to date me because you didn’t see marriage in our future. ”

I swallow hard, my appetite wavering because damn, that’s some harsh truth.

“I asked around,” he continues, his voice even.

“Thought maybe there was someone else, but everyone said no. I even asked your brothers. Had Rhett ask Molly.” He lets out a humorless chuckle, shaking his head.

“Then Hayes showed up out of nowhere and suddenly you were looking at him like he hung the moon.”

I take a bite of my sandwich to keep myself busy, nodding because—yeah. That’s still a mystery to me and also, news to me.

“It sucked, you know.”

I glance up. “What?”

“The fact that this new guy just waltzed into town, and boom, you married him without hesitation. Just like that. For a property .” His jaw tenses. “When I had literally just asked you to marry me, and you said no.”

I flinch. Because yeah. That had to sting.

“I’m so sorry,” I say quietly, but he shakes his head.

“I get it now. After the fact, I mean.” He sets his sandwich down, running a hand through his short brown hair.

“Molly explained the details. That you and Hayes had both made offers on the land before Mrs. Mayberry died. That it was some legal loophole you got caught up in, so you had to marry each other or some shit.” He exhales sharply, shaking his head.

“But before Mrs. Mayberry passed, you could’ve asked me .

” His voice dips lower, rawer. “I would have married you if it meant you got the land. No hesitation. Even if you thought that you couldn’t love me the same. ”

I swallow thickly.

Damn.

I hurt him. Bad. And I don’t even remember why I ended things if not it had to have been because I didn’t see a future with him.

And marrying him, even for just a property, sounds unfair if one person wants more.

And I get the feeling he was the one who wanted more.

Suddenly, my heart sinks and I feel terrible for asking him on this date.

I don’t want to lead him on. I don’t want to get his hopes up again just to hurt him.

“I’m sorry,” I say again, the words feeling inadequate. “I—I don’t know what to say. I don’t remember what I was thinking or feeling at the time.” But something tells me that I know now.

Declan lets out a slow breath, then forces a smile. “It’s all good. I’m just glad you’re okay. And that you’re giving us a second shot.”

That has me freezing. I keep my expression neutral, but my stomach twists. Because is that what this is? I turned down his proposal for a reason. I broke things off for a reason. Even if I can’t remember it right now, I’m not interested in giving this another shot.

“So,” I say, clearing my throat, shifting the conversation before my thoughts spiral, “how’s work going?”

Declan jumps at the topic change, instantly launching into stories about his job at Whitewood Creek Plumbing—how much he enjoys it, the opportunities he’s had to expand, the long hours he’s been working and the potential for Rhett to open a new location thirty minutes away, something he said he’d move to take.

I nod along, but something tugs at the edges of my memory.

Flashes of winter.

The holidays spent together.

Him, slipping out of family dinners early, missing events, always answering calls. Always taking extra shifts.

That hollow feeling I used to get.

How I always felt like a second priority.

Wondering if it’d be that way if we had kids someday.

My stomach lurches, a wave of dizziness sweeping over me, and suddenly, the mac and cheese doesn’t taste so good anymore and that meltdown I thought I’d stopped before, yeah, it’s back.

By the time the conversation winds down, Declan asks if I want dessert. I shake my head, offering a small smile.

“I’m good. Thank you.” And I mean it. Despite things starting off rocky, the conversation wasn’t bad, and I got answers I needed desperately to hear from him.

“Thanks for tonight,” I say as we drive back to my house, my fingers absently tracing the hem of my dress.

He glances over, smiling, his hand resting on my thigh again casual, like it belongs there.

Protective. A silent claim. But I don’t know what I’m thinking anymore.

My mind is spinning, my heart racing, everything inside me a tangled mess of nostalgia and unease.

That meltdown Rae hinted at? Yeah . It’s coming.

Fast. And I need to get out of this car now.

I also need to be fair to Declan and not give him the wrong impression.

When Declan parks, I grip the door handle, every muscle in my body tight.

But he beats me to it, slipping out first and rounding the truck to open my door.

And then—he pauses . Caging me in with his arms and hips.

His hand comes up, fingers brushing my neck, sweeping back a loose strand of hair.

I’m stuck and feel like I can’t move. He stares down at me, his brown eyes soft, searching.

“I had a good time tonight,” he murmurs.

“Yeah,” I whisper, tongue darting out to wet my lips.

His gaze flickers down, and my breath catches.

I know this look.

I remember this look.

All the times he used to hold me like this, like I was his and I loved it. Only this time, something feels... off . Wrong. Because I’m not his anymore. Not at all.

Then—he leans in. My body locks up a moment too late. I turn my head at the last second, and his lips land just beside mine, skimming my cheek and resting in my hair instead. His forehead falls to my temples with a heavy sigh.

“Fuck, Regan.”

“I know,” I whisper, my pulse hammering. “I’m so sorry. I just… I can’t do this. It isn’t fair to give you false hope.”

He nods but doesn’t move away, his body still caging me in, his grip firm on my hip.

I can’t breathe.

The weight of everything—the confusion, the missing pieces, the why of it all—presses down until I feel like I might break.

“I’ll call you, okay?” My voice barely makes it out.

Declan pulls back just enough to study me, his brows drawing together like he knows I’m not going to call or if I do, it’s going to be as friends.

“Yeah, okay. Hey, I hope you know I understand. I wasn’t expecting this to be more, I guess I just wanted to see if you mind changed.”

I bite down on my lip and nod softly.

“Can I at least walk you inside? I hate that you’re living here with this guy you barely know.”

I shake my head instantly, my gut telling me that Hayes wouldn’t be okay with that. Even if I don’t remember the details, I saw the way that he looked at me when I said Declan’s name.

“I’m fine. I’m just going to go straight to bed.”

He blows out a slow breath reluctantly. “Okay. Well, good night then.”

I force a smile. “Good night, Declan.”

I wait, watching from the porch as his truck disappears into the night before finally turning to the door, ready to step inside and fall apart in private. But the second I open it, he’s there waiting for me.

Leaning against the kitchen counter, bottle of water in his grip, fingers flexing so tight around the plastic that it bows under the pressure. His dark hazel eyes drag over me, slow, deliberate, intense.

Heat floods my core. My skin flushes, my pulse pounds, and my nipples tighten in response to nothing but one damn look from him.

And that’s the thing. Maybe for a moment I felt like I was still dating Declan earlier tonight.

But now? With Hayes looking at me like that?

One glance, one sharp inhale of breath, and he wrecks me in a way that Declan never has been able to.

“Hi,” I whisper, voice barely there.

Hayes growls out a low, rough, “Hey.”

And suddenly, I’m twenty-three years old again, laying eyes on the handsome bull-rider cowboy who I want to rock my world.