Page 33 of Wrecked for Love (Buffaloberry Hill #1)

CLAIRE

I packed like my house was burning—yanking open drawers and tossing clothes into my bag without a second thought. Shirts, pants, whatever I could grab—none of it folded, just crammed in. Toothbrush, hairbrush, my favorite perfume—it all landed haphazardly between the mess of fabric.

This wasn’t routine; this was me giving up.

If The Revenants tracked me down, let them.

I couldn’t stay and scrub this place clean like I’d done with every other safe house.

Every inch of it reminded me of that scumbag Armand Voss and, worse, of the man I thought had been on my side walking out like I was nothing.

Then there was the study. God, someone had died there. Tessa had died there.

I almost closed my eyes, refusing to admit I was even standing in the room, but I couldn’t leave my laptop behind. Like a panicked animal, I rushed in, grabbed it, and hurried out again, barely sparing a glance. The door shut behind me with finality.

I slung my bag over my shoulder. There was no coming back. The Willow, once my refuge, had become my hell. To make matters worse, I realized my car wasn’t even here. Elia had driven me from the gas station. So, I walked. The station was miles away, but there was no other option.

The darkness gave no relief. It only served as a reminder that there was nowhere to hide, even in solitude. The running, the losses, the guilt…I could handle those. But not being believed? By the one person who meant everything?

I huffed out a long breath and watched the vapor rise in the cold air. Somehow, the chill made things clearer. I wasn’t angry at him. Instead, his reaction drained me of all emotions. Numb. But even numbness could hurt, just like how gripping ice burns you.

At the station, I breathed a sigh of relief.

My car was still there, waiting like the one small thing that hadn’t turned against me.

I got in and drove. Passing Paul’s, Mama Berry’s shop…

I kept my eyes straight ahead. Thankfully, The Lazy Moose was on the other side of town, so I didn’t have to see it.

The reason I’d come back was to turn myself in—for Elia. But he hadn’t cared. Like he’d hinted, he’d dealt with the Vosses long before I came along. It wasn’t my job to protect him. I had a conscience, but after being dismissed so completely, I could only shrug it off.

I stopped by the shelter and turned the key in the lock for the last time.

Noises drifted from behind the building.

The dogs knew me, so there was no frantic barking, just a quiet recognition like they understood it was goodbye.

I didn’t make it to the backyard. Instead, I left my silent farewell hanging in the air.

The cats, lazy as ever and not a care in the world, barely twitched an ear as I left.

I slipped an envelope onto the counter, parting with most of what I had left from New York. Then I set the key down, the lock clicking behind me as I stepped away for good.

Back behind the wheel, the engine hummed. Clare Ashbourne’s car was still going strong, with plenty of life left in her. And hell, why did that make me think of the time Elia fixed the spark plugs?

“God…” I sighed, struggling to accept that this was really the end.

This time, running away didn’t feel like muscle memory. Every mile felt like pushing through thorns—dense, prickling, painful, but never quite enough to stop me.

You’re leaving Buffaloberry Hill, where your heart always has a home.

Tears poured down my face. The sobs came out of nowhere, hitting me hard.

Why? Why now? I’d driven through this very sign just hours ago.

I guessed I still had hope back then. I’d come back for him, for Elia.

But now? Buffaloberry Hill meant nothing without him.

A place is only as beautiful as the people in it.

You could be in paradise and still feel like you’re in hell with the wrong person.

But even the grimmest corner of the world shines when you’re with the right one.

I reached for my Batman Forever pendant and pressed it to my lips. “I miss you, Code.” He’d been the only one who ever truly mattered.

Now, reality stared me in the face. I was still tired of running, and maybe this time, I’d stop. My next destination? Who knew? New York? Maybe.