Page 72 of Truly

He levels his gaze with mine. “I would never hurt you. Not on purpose. And every decision I made was to save you pain. Do you think boarding the flight home from Cleveland was easy without you? It was one of the worst days of my life. But I did it. I broke my heart because I believed it would save yours.”

We stand under the dark sky not as a couple but as two injured hearts shielding ourselves from the other.

“Let’s go inside and get some rest,” he says, dejected. “We can figure this out tomorrow.”

“I’ll take the couch.”

He shakes his head and takes the stairs. “Take the bed. I’m not going to sleep anyway.”

Instead of going to the sofa, he goes right into the kitchen and out the back door. I watch as the light comes on in the barn, and he doesn’t return.

I go upstairs and cry myself to sleep.

It won’t be the first time.

It probably won’t be the last.

CHAPTER 22

Luke

I printout the last two invoices and stick them in the pile on the corner of my desk. They need envelopes and stamps because I can’t figure out how to bill customers electronically. Most of them are older and wouldn’t know what to do with an e-invoice, anyway. Although I’m out here for a distraction and have been for the past two hours, I don’t have the gumption to deal with the envelopes.

My heart fucking hurts.

I hate that she thinks I’d hurt her on purpose.

I can’t stand that she’s been through so much that her natural reaction is to assume the worst.

I wish to God that I wouldn’t have left that stadium without seeing her that night, but I promise the man upstairs that I won’t make the same mistake twice if he’ll help me show her how much I love her.

Who can I talk to about this? Gavin would look for a quick fix. Mallet is still pissy about his divorce, so his advice would be questionable at best. I don’t have the energy for Katethe Romantic, and Chase … Chase might actually be a good candidate. He has a wife. Somehow. He’s usually a jerk, so he won’t suggest courses of action full of fluff. He doesn’t give a shit about anyone’s feelings unless their names are Megan or Kennedy.

I find my phone under a paper plate and scroll to our family chat. A quick check of the time says it’s too late to text my siblings, but that’s what they get for having me as a brother.

Me: Anyone up?

Kate: Meeeee! What’s cookin’, good-lookin’?

Me: Are you drinking?

Kate: No, but I am delirious.

Gavin: Hi, Kate.

Kate: Not talking to you, Gav.

Gavin: It’s not my fault. I told you that.

Me: It’s absolutely his fault.

Gavin: EXCUSE ME?

I can’t help but smile.

Mallet: Is someone dead?

Kate: Not yet. I’m working on it. Wanna help?