Page 7 of Truly (Peachwood Falls #2)

L aina

A voice inside my head tells me to wake up. It grows louder, working its way into my dream until I finally crack open my eyes.

Where the heck am I ?

Pale yellow walls. A navy comforter covering my legs. A television too big to be practical mounted on the wall across from the bed.

Luke’s .

My cheek is stuck to the pillowcase by my slobber as I try to sit up. The day’s events come rolling through my mind, ruining the beautiful moments of post-slumber bliss. A twinge of a headache licks behind my temple.

What time is it ?

The sky outside the window is orange and purple. Luke’s house is completely still. A clock on the bedside table reads mid-evening. I’ve been asleep for three hours .

I spring to my feet and step over my dress, working to regather my hair into the rubber band.

The strands are smashed against the side of my head from where I slept on them.

Without a mirror, I can tell that the top is a rat’s nest of epic proportions.

I should make a pit stop in the bathroom and get myself put together, but my feet march through the hallway and down the half flight of stairs to find Luke.

“There you are,” he says, leaning against a kitchen cabinet. “I thought you might sleep all night.”

I yawn, my shoulders drooping. “I didn’t realize how tired I was.”

His gaze draws the length of my body. His lips twitch as his gaze finds mine once again. “I see you found your way through my closet.”

“Do you know how many feed store shirts you own?”

He shrugs.

“All of them,” I say.

“I like the way they fit.”

“Do you ever shop at a store that doesn’t sell farm supplies?” I ask.

“Why would I do that?” He laughs at my expression. “You have a little something on your cheek.”

I wipe at the spot he motions toward and find a sticky blob that must be snot. My face heats so hot that it’s warm to the touch.

“It happens to the best of us,” he says as I wipe my hand on a paper towel, then move to the sink. “Did you sleep okay?”

“Apparently. I lie down for a minute, and it’s three hours later.” I finish washing my hands. “I used your landline to make a couple of calls. I hope that’s okay.”

“Of course.”

We stand close enough to touch if our weight shifts just enough. My skin tingles at the proximity. I tell myself it’s because I need comfort and not because of anything else—surely not because I’m still attracted to Luke.

His half smile, like he can read my mind, gets me every time.

I turn off the tap. “My friend Stephanie and agent, Anjelica, seem to have taken care of everything.”

“That’s good.” He stretches his legs out in front of him. “You haven’t talked to Tom?”

“ No . That’s a big no.”

He nods, following me with his eyes as I take a dish towel from the drawer.

“I’ll probably never talk to Tom again,” I say, drying my hands.

“Is that weird?”

I shrug. “I suppose it’s weird if you’re on the outside. You probably think it’s odd that I could’ve been marrying a man this morning, yet I’ll never talk to him again now.” I hold the towel in my hands and look at Luke. “But it’s really a relief.”

So many words are on the tip of my tongue, but I don’t have the guts to say them. It’s for the best that I don’t anyway. He’ll think I’m just overly emotional—and maybe I am. And I’ll regret saying them when I return to my life, and he never talks to me again—which he won’t.

The best way to predict the future is to look at the past. While our storied history is the sweetest part of my life, it’s the end I must use when looking into a crystal ball.

Even though as I stand in his kitchen and peer into those bright green eyes, feeling the connection between us reverberate in the air, it’s hard to remember why it didn’t work out.

“I owe you an explanation,” I say, realizing I’ve never given him a reason for being here.

“You really don’t.”

“No, but I do.” I move across the room to put some distance between us.

Only when we’re more than a few feet apart can I breathe again.

“And I want you to know that it was really brazen of me to use the key to get in your house .” I return his grin.

“And it was even kinder of you to have been as sweet to me as you have.”

“Let me ask you this,” he says, smirking. “What would you have done if you had broken in here and my wife was in my bed?”

“I would have questions.”

“Such as?”

My grin grows. “I would’ve asked you why you never showed pictures of your wife on social media.”

His loud laughter fills the room.

“I mean, I get that you use your page for work, but you could still show her every now and then,” I say, laughing too. “I’m always suspicious if a man is married and his girl doesn’t show up anywhere with him online.”

“ Oh ,” he says, his eyes alight with humor. “I see. You’ve been checking me out.”

“Hardly.”

He hums.

“Stephanie happened to see one of your viral videos,” I say, rolling my eyes playfully. “And she showed me, and I may or may not have gotten curious.”

“You’re a fangirl.”

It’s my turn to burst out laughing. “I am hardly a fangirl, Luke. But thanks.”

“You are. That is so cool.”

“Stop it.”

“Why? You don’t think I’m not online watching what you’re up to?”

He turns away before I can see his face.

“You’re checking on me?” I ask.

“I just wonder what you’re up to sometimes.” His voice drops a few octaves. “You’re really impressive. But I’m sure you know that.”

My heart swells so big that I’m afraid it will burst.

After I was supposed to come home the last time and couldn’t, he didn’t answer my calls.

Worse, he didn’t return them, either. I’ve always hoped that maybe it was too hard for him like it was for me.

A clean break was easier than peeling the bandage off slowly.

I’ve looked into endless arenas and at thousands of crowds—read countless comments on posts and wondered if any of them were him.

I’ve wondered whether Luke thought about me.

To have the answer, to know that he has , brings tears to my eyes because what I’ve really feared all these years is that he hated me.

Did he hate me for leaving? Did he hate me for not coming back?

Even though he told me he knew I had to go try to achieve my dreams, did he really mean it?

Knowing that Luke was always in my corner, rooting for me if only silently, heals a wound I’ve carried with me since the day I left Peachwood Falls.

“The peach dress that you wore to the awards show last spring,” he says, looking at me over his shoulder. “It reminded me of the one you wore to senior prom.” He dips his chin and looks away again. “I’m sure it was a lot more expensive, and those diamonds were real, but you were beautiful.”

My vision fogs as I will myself not to cry.

“Anyway,” he says, running a hand over his head. “I’m glad things are okay, and your people are fighting for you behind the scenes.”

Like I never fought for you.

Like you never fought for me.

“Yeah,” I say, clearing my throat. “They’re all in agreement that my stunt this afternoon was the best thing I could’ve done in the moment.”

Luke faces me again. “And you don’t think you’ll ever talk to Tom again?”

His features are sober, and his brows pull together. The question hangs in the balance between us.

I’m not sure why it seems important to answer this fully—but it does.

“Tom didn’t love me, Luke. Not like a man should love a woman if he’s going to marry her. And I didn’t love him like a woman should love her husband, either.”

He stares into my eyes.

“I was convenient for him,” I say. “I helped him reach his goals. I bolstered his public persona. But there was little respect there. No fun.” I gulp. “No sex.”

“ What ?”

I exhale and turn to the sink, watching a horse approach the barn.

“Tom isn’t a terrible human being,” I say. “He’s no saint, but he’s not the devil. Mutual friends set us up, and it was great at first. But then I went off on tour, and he went off making movies, and we weren’t really around each other all that much. A weekend here, a couple of weeks there.”

Luke drags a chair out from the small round table near the sliding glass doors and sits.

“Then Tom asked me to marry him in front of the world, basically, and I couldn’t say no.

And, before I knew it, a wedding was planned, and I was neck-deep in this whole …

production . Then what do you do? Everything is ordered and reserved.

The entire planet knows it’s happening. I just stuck my head in the sand and worked and tried to block it out.

” I laugh sadly. “It didn’t hit me until this morning that we would be married .

I would be attached to this man who I barely knew, a man who I hadn’t had sex with in six months.

A man who if I had to start dating all over again, I would pass. How could I marry him ?”

“You can’t.” His voice makes me jump. “For what it’s worth, I’m proud of you. It had to be hell to walk out of there today.”

I try to reply but fail. I can’t speak. All I can do is swim in the depths of his kind eyes.

“Oh, and in case you’re wondering,” he says, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “If another woman had been here today, I wouldn’t have asked you to leave.”

“You really don’t know how much that means to me,” I say softly.

“I told you once that I would always be here for you. I meant it. And you don’t know what it means to me that you knew that.”

I start to respond, but the sound is hollow. A sob catches in my throat.

“But I am telling you that if someone comes here looking for you, you better tell me so I can get backup,” he says, winking. “I’m not as young as I once was.”

It’s enough to break through my emotions and elicit a laugh. He glances at his phone.

“You’re thirty,” I say, sniffling.

“It’s been a rough thirty years.”

He stands and walks to me, grinning. “Come here.”

I nearly collapse in his arms, burying my head against his shoulder. My arms wrap around his middle, and my knees buckle. But I don’t care.

“You’re tough,” he says, holding me against him. “You’re going to get through this and be stronger than you were before. Just hang in there.”

I breathe him in, letting his proximity soothe me.

This. When was the last time I was hugged like this? When did I last feel like someone was pouring their strength and care into me? Who was the last person to take me in their arms and make me feel so … whole?

“Why does it seem possible when you say it?” I ask.

“Because I’m always right.”

I giggle. With every move, my cheek brushes against his rock-solid chest.

“Now, I have to tell you something, and I hope you’re not mad,” he says.

What ? I pull away, my heart leaping to life. “What in the heck does that mean?”

“I told Gavin you were here,” he says, wincing. “I only told him so he could pick you up a few things. He won’t say a word to anyone. I promise.”

My jaw drops. “ That’s what you have to tell me, and you hope I’m not mad?” I smack his chest, earning an ouch from Luke. “And don’t patronize me with that ouch.”

He laughs, licking his lips.

“I’d like to see Gavin,” I say, thinking about his adorable smile.

“Good. Because he’s here.”

“He is?”

Luke gives me the sweetest, sexiest grin that melts me to my core. “Come on.”