“I don’t want it.”
“Then give me space,” she cried out and pulled away from me. Sitting up so she was facing me in a way that somehow encompassed her attitude and pain perfectly. Legs crossed. Back rigid. Brows set low in defiance as hurt swirled in her eyes.
I fought every instinct I had and rolled onto my back instead of following her. Forced one hand behind my head to prop it up and kept the other formed into a fist on my stomach so I wouldn’t reach for her.
Touch her.
Pull her back to me.
“I’ve been thinking about it since this morning,” she mumbled, her head bobbing. “And no matter how many times I argue with myself that I need to fight for you, I keep coming back to the same conclusion.”
Her shoulders slowly lifted and her mouth twisted into a pained smile.
“I know how you feel about me, Hunter. I know how I feel about you. But I also know how you feel about Madison, and if I kept you from her now, you would always wonder. I would always wonder,” she added, her stare drifting. “If you were thinking about her . . . wondering what might’ve been. I refuse to hold on to you only to destroy us that way.”
I wanted to assure her that wouldn’t happen. I wanted to comfort her in any way I could. Comfort her in us.
And I hated that I couldn’t.
Hated myself.
“If it were reversed?” she choked out, her glassy eyes meeting mine. “If it were Dean? I wouldn’t be able to just dismiss that. I would need to let my heart decide, no matter how much it broke me in the end. And I know this is going to break you.”
At the crack in her voice, I reached for her and pulled her against me. The heaviness in my chest easing only a fraction when she came willingly.
My hands were curled around her neck and my fingers were in her hair as I pressed my head to hers, whispering, “I’m sorry,” over and over again as she silently cried.
For her pain.
For Dean.
For putting her in a position where she had to do this at all . . .
I should’ve known Isabel would do something selfless. Should’ve anticipated her reaction. She knew me better than anyone—including my family. She understood my pain and heartbreak. Experienced it in a way I hoped I never had to. Knew what it was like to hopelessly love the person you’d given your heart to, even years after they were gone.
Still, the thought of losing the girl in my arms, even if just pressing pause on whatever we were, physically hurt. Made me feel like I was grasping, trying to keep us where we were, and only hitting that space she was trying to put between us.
“Don’t do this,” I pleaded softly.
“It’ll crush us in the end if we don’t,” she whispered so, so low. “We can’t survive those unknowns and what-ifs, Hunter.”
My head moved in slow shakes as she spoke. For a moment, it was all I could manage when her words echoed the outcome I’d been ignoring all morning.
One where, even if I chose Isabel every day, we still couldn’t survive the upset that Madison’s reappearance caused. The way we’d been so utterly rocked just by Madison coming back had been a warning.
One I desperately wanted to ignore.
Still, I couldn’t assure Izzy those unknowns and what-ifs didn’t exist. Couldn’t say I knew, without a doubt, it would be us at the end of this. And it made me feel like even more of an asshole.
Her brows drew tight and her head moved in quick, faint shakes. “I’ll be fine tomorrow. I’ll give us the space we need.”
“I don’t want that,” I cut in quickly. “You don’t either.”
“Need,” she maintained, firm and full of sorrow. When she continued, her voice shook. “But can I have today? Will you give me tonight of just this—of you holding me?”
“Every night, just say the word.”
She looked at me with so much pain and hopelessness. “We both know that can’t happen.”
I didn’t argue. We would just continue to go around and around, and I didn’t have it in me anymore. So instead, I drew her against my chest and laid her down with me, dragging the covers back over us.
A mournful yet relieved breath escaped her before she leaned forward to capture my mouth. Her lips moving in a slow, harrowing dance that tore into my chest and gripped my heart. Squeezing it tight until it splintered.
Shattered.
Broke in her hands.
“Don’t say goodbye,” I softly begged against her lips.
“I didn’t say a thing.”
But when she pulled away, the tears slipping onto the pillow and the crushing silence pulsing between us shouted exactly that.
Goodbye.
Goodbye.
Goodbye.
Drowning out my unspoken confession.
I love you. I love you. I’m sorry.
“Go home, Izzy,” Hunter called out as he smacked his hand on the wall of my office, scaring the ever-living shit out of me.
I jolted, my fingers flying across the keys to minimize the windows on my computer screen as I sent up a prayer that he hadn’t seen what I’d just done. Hadn’t seen what was on there.
I’d been working for Hunter for three years now. There wasn’t one thing I did for Dixon Farms that I didn’t run by him first, but we both knew Hunter would be lost without me. From payroll to purchasing materials and equipment to keeping all the members of the crews in line . . . I took care of it all.
Which meant Hunter trusted me. As he should.
I would never do anything to lose that trust . . . but he couldn’t see what was on that screen. Yet.
I forced my expression into indifference as I spun around in my chair and tried not to sag in defeat when I saw him in the doorway watching me.
Baseball cap barely resting on his head.
Sweat-soaked shirt clinging to his body and showing every defined ridge and muscle.
One eyebrow ticked up in curiosity.
Corner of his mouth twitching like he was fighting a smile so damn hard.
Well, shit.
“What was that?” he asked, amusement weaving through the question.
There was no point in lying, I knew. He’d seen something, and I was a terrible liar anyway. It was always written on my face. Except, I really wasn’t ready for him to know because it wasn’t ready just yet.
So, I did the only thing left to do . . . I lied. Blatantly.
I leaned back in my chair and let a wicked grin cross my face. “Absolutely nothing at all.”
Hunter placed his hands on the doorframe and took another step into the office. His dimples flashing as he lost the fight to hide his smirk. “That so?”
“It’s what I said,” I tossed back arrogantly.
Something in his blue eyes flashed.
The muscles in his forearms flexed as he gripped the frame, keeping himself in place. In an instant, the air in the room changed.
Filled with tension.
Need.
Shifted from our normal day-to-day to one of the times where we needed more.
Even after he’d spent a day in the orchard, I kinda wanted his restraint to snap. I wanted him to lose control. Take me against the wall. Make me tremble. Make me scream.
It’d been too long . . .
Or maybe it’d only been two days. Maybe that’s why he was holding himself in place.
“You’re sweaty and gross,” I said dismissively as I spun the chair back around to face my desk. “Go shower, and I’ll go home when I’m done.”