Page 48 of Sweet Escape (Whispering Oaks Ranch #1)

He loves me not

? Beg For Your Love - Kelsea Ballerini

Olivia

Every few days for the last two weeks, I’ve found a new bouquet of daisies waiting for me on the entry table. When one starts wilting, a new one takes its place, and the cycle repeats.

The flowers are nice, but Wilder’s keeping his distance, and I don’t know why or how to bridge the gap. The hollow gesture offers little comfort when his every action serves only to keep me at arm’s length, like a sickly sweet reminder of his sudden, deliberate withdrawal.

He’s gone before I wake, and I've been so exhausted that I’m in bed before the sun goes down. Maybe I’m just being paranoid, and we keep missing each other, but it feels like more than that. I feel like I’m losing him, which is ridiculous because he’s not mine to lose.

As if the universe is trying to give me clarity, I find Wilder in the kitchen. He’s standing in front of the stove, and the smell of something delicious wafts through the house. He either doesn’t hear me come in, or he doesn’t care; the latter stings more than I’d like to admit.

“Hey,” he says, not even bothering to look up. “You’re home early.”

“Am I… not supposed to be?” I don’t mean to be combative, but I’m getting Jake flashbacks, and I refuse to ignore the signs again. I won’t put myself through that a second time.

“No. No, I’m just surprised. You usually stay to help out at the diner around dinnertime. Are you okay? The baby?”

“We’re both fine.” I step up beside him, intending to greet him with a kiss, but he turns his face at the last second, and my lips land on his cheek instead. My face falls, and I take a step back, a pit forming in my stomach.

He opens his mouth to speak, but before he can utter a single word, a blur of pink sparkles crashes into my legs, leaving me well and truly distracted.

“Livie!”Emmy’s cherubic voice instantly eases some of my worries, and her smile, so bright and infectious, makes it impossible not to mirror her excitement.

“Hey, Em!”

She does her adorable grabby hands, and I lift her into my arms, rubbing our noses together.

It’s become something of a routine for us.

What does it say about me that this three-year-old may actually be my best friend?

A few weeks ago, I might've said it was Wilder, but he’s pulling away, and I’m left wondering if I overlooked some red flags along the way.

I carry her over to the highchair at the island and set her down.

“I made stir fry, but there’s also nuggs and mac for Emmy if you prefer.” He uses the end of a spatula to point to the baking rack of dinosaur nuggets already cooling on the counter .

“Stir fry sounds great, thanks. Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Would you mind grabbing some plates? It’s almost ready.”

The stilted conversation does nothing to ease my suspicions, and my hands begin to shake as my body’s way of self-soothing.

Sighing, I reach for two of the dinner plates from the set I thrifted last week.

They’re vintage porcelain with a scalloped edge and a blue floral pattern.

The set was missing a few dishes, so it was heavily discounted.

I made a mental note to find replacement pieces, but that note went straight to the ADHD archive in the back of my mind, where my ideas go to die.

I place them both on the island, side by side, then move back to the sink to grab some utensils, bumping into Wilder on the way. “Oof. S-sorry.” Get it together, Olivia.

Closing my eyes, I inhale deeply through my nose, then blow it out through my mouth.

“You okay?” Wilder drops the spatula on the counter with a loud thud and turns to face me. He raises a hand as if to touch me, but he hesitates before lowering it once more. The withdrawal of that gesture is the final blow to any hope I had for us.

“Yeah. Fine.”

I slink back to the island and perch on the stool, my teeth biting into my bottom lip while I wait for this awkward dinner to end.

Wilder scoops some chicken nuggets and macaroni onto Emmy’s divided toddler plate, then sets it on her tray before dishing up some of the stir fry and sliding a fork across the island.

Instead of taking his place beside me, he drags his plate toward him. Tears spring to my eyes at the harsh sting of rejection. He can’t even st and to sit beside me, how the hell am I supposed to stay here?

I move the food around the plate, then stand. “I’m not really feeling well. I’m going to head to bed.”

Wilder’s lips pull into a slight frown, but he doesn’t question me.

He doesn’t stop me from walking down the hall to my room, closing my door, and sinking to the floor.

The moment I’m alone, every ounce of hurt rises to the surface, drowning me in pools of anguish, my body caving in on itself as I fall apart.

When the tears have dried and the numbness sets in, the little life inside me makes herself known with a sharp kick beneath my belly button. “At least I still have you.”

Wilder

I’m an asshole.

I made a conscious decision to put some distance between us, hoping it would dull this relentless ache, but it’s only grown stronger while we’ve been apart. Now I’ve managed to hurt her in the process.

I’m a broken man; I’m too broken to love her, to love any woman. Olivia deserves someone who can give her the world, and I can’t even give her my heart. I want to. Fuck, do I want to, but part of my heart is buried six feet deep, and the rest is barely beating, if only for Emmy and Gracie.

I have to find a way to fix this if I want a chance at a real family with her, even if love isn’t on the table. Maybe I can give her everything else. Maybe that would be enough—a place to call home, a family, the ranch, the sun and stars, if that’s what she wants.

“I want Livie,” Emmy says as I tuck her blanket around her.

“I think Livie’s asleep, Angel. You’ll see her tomorrow. ”

“I want Livie now .” Her bottom lip wobbles, and I lose the battle of wills against my toddler once again. It’s no secret she has me wrapped around her little finger, but this is getting ridiculous.

Kissing her forehead, I whisper. “Stay right here. I’ll see if she’s awake, okay?”

She nods and sinks further under the covers, a slight curve forming on her lips, knowing she’s won.

I rap my knuckles against Olivia’s door, listening for any sign of movement. “Liv. It’s me.”

The bed shifts, and soft footfalls sound on the other side of the door before her tear-stained face comes into view. “Liv… honey…”

“I’m fine. Just tired. What do you need?”

“Emmy’s asking for you, but I can just tell her you’re asleep.”

She sniffles, wiping her nose with a tissue tucked in her fist. “No. No, it's fine. Just give me a minute to clean myself up.”

Minutes pass before she joins me in Emmy’s room, and all evidence of her tears has vanished, a mask of false contentment taking its place. “Hey, little cowgirl. Your daddy said you wanted to see me?”

“Livie, will you snuggle with me?”

“You want me to snuggle?” she asks.

“Uh-huh. You, here,” she says, pointing to the spot on her right. Olivia gently lifts the covers and slides in beside her, and Emmy shifts her body so she’s flush against her side.

“Daddy, you here,” she says, pointing to the opposite side of the bed where there’s a small gap.

“That’s an awfully tight squeeze, Emmy girl. Why don’t I just let you and Livie have the bed, and I’ll sit beside y’all in the chair?”

She pouts, and I have no choice but to give in to her demands, slipping in beside her. For all of us to fit, I have to drape Emmy over half my body and rest my arm above Olivia’s head. The urge to wrap her in my arms is overwhelming.

Unable to resist the pull, I slide my hand into Olivia’s hair. The delicate strands slip through my fingers. We lock eyes over Emmy’s head, and her chin quivers before she looks away. Guilt clawing at my chest at the evidence of the pain I’ve caused.

Emmy looks up at Olivia, a sleepy smile spreading across her face. “Love you,” she says.

“Love you, too, sweet girl. To the moon and back.”

The easy exchange kicks my heart into overdrive, triggering my fight or flight instincts, but Emmy brings me back from the brink of madness with three simple words. “Love you, Daddy.”

“Love you, Emmy Lou.”

Once the girls are asleep, I carefully slip out of bed and reposition Emmy against Liv’s side.

With one last glance over my shoulder, I head into the kitchen and grab a bottle of Blanton’s and a chilled glass from the freezer before heading out back near the dilapidated treehouse.

That’s where Ruby finds me two—or maybe three—drinks deep as I attempt to climb the old rope ladder.

“We should really fix this place up,” says a blurry shape that sounds vaguely like my world-famous sister. “Could be a fun place for Emmy to play.”

“Little sister!”

“That bad, huh?” Jax says, coming into view beside her.

“It’s worse than I thought,” she replies .

“The band’s all here. Come on down before you hurt yourself,” Griff says, his acoustic guitar strapped to his back and a beer in his hand. “Jaxy, go light the fire.”

I hop off the ladder, having only made it a third of the way up before encountering the first in a line of missing steps.

“Come on, Wild Man,” Jax calls from somewhere in the shadows. “Time for a sibling heart-to-heart.”

I snort. “I’d rather take a needle through my dick.”

“Been there,” he says. “Not as bad as you’d think. Livie might like it.”

“Not something I needed to know about my brother,” Ruby quips. “Please keep your dick piercings and whatever else you might have going on to yourself.”

We each take a seat in one of the Adirondack chairs surrounding the stone fire pit as Jax piles on a few new logs and lights the starter.

Nobody says anything for a while, watching the fire build until the flames are dancing into the night sky.

Griffin strums a few chords on his old guitar, and Ruby sings a stripped-down version of My Girl by the Temptations.