“And?” Savannah asked.
I blinked quickly and met her curious stare for a moment before looking away again. One of my shoulders lifted before falling. “I repeated what I said when I left. Told him I was doing what I needed to. The last time he came . . .”
I sucked in a breath only to release it around the words trapped in my throat.
The last time had ruined me in a way nothing else ever had . . .
Leaving Hunter had wrecked me. Lying to him each time he showed up had destroyed me. But the look on his face the last time he came after me?
I’d made it maybe a minute after he left before I was on the floor. Heart wrenching so painfully that no sound left me as I cried out. Unable to breathe. Unable to move. Curled in on myself as my soul had faded to ash.
“He kept coming back, and I needed him to let me go,” I said, voice thick with shame. “So, I started yelling at him. Said something like, ‘You’re so tied to that ranch and that town that you’ll never be able to see what else is out there, waiting for you. Stop trying to tie me there with you.’”
Savannah’s shock and disappointment burst from her. I took that knife in my chest. Welcomed it.
I deserved it.
“Madi,” she said on a breath.
I didn’t respond. I couldn’t.
“You needed him to let you go,” Savannah muttered after minutes passed with both of us wrapped up in our own thoughts. Her head slanted as she studied me. “You said that, and it keeps going through my mind on repeat.”
I held myself still as she seemed to think about her next words.
“I’m missing something, Madi, I know I am,” she went on. “Your leaving never made sense to any of us. But talking to you earlier and listening to you explain it now . . .” Her head shook slowly, her tone becoming more confident when she continued. “I’m more confused than ever because you left even though you still loved him. You stayed gone for years before trying to come back.”
“I did what I had to,” I whispered, then cleared my throat and said louder, “But it doesn’t matter—it happened so long ago, and I can’t change what I did.”
No matter how much I wished I could . . .
“It might matter,” she argued. “It might change everything.” She waved her arm, gesturing blindly behind her. “Hunter is still hopelessly in love with you, so I’m pretty damn sure it’ll matter to him.”
My spirit wrenched.
Thrashed.
Cried out.
“I’m also pretty sure the fact that you’re in love with him will matter.”
“I’m—” I struggled for words, fumbled through the chaos of my thoughts.
“In love with Hunter,” Savannah finished for me.
It wasn’t as if I could deny what she was saying—I’d already admitted as much. But . . . “I’m married,” I argued softly, letting my voice drop to a whisper. “I mean, technically. For however long Raf drags this out, I guess. But that doesn’t mean I can just go love Hunter. I just found out about everything with Raf less than a week ago.”
“I know.” Her tone shifted, turned sympathetic. “I know, and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for what you’re going through. That’s why . . .”
My stare narrowed on her when she sucked in a slow breath and then bit on her nail in that Savannah way. Never actually chewing on it, just kind of tapping on it with her teeth the way she did when she was nervous or thinking about something big.
“That’s why what?” I coaxed.
“I told Hunter to give you space,” she confessed, her golden eyes flashing to meet mine. “He doesn’t know why. I just told him you needed time. And you’ll get it. He rarely comes into town, just stays on the ranch. You seeing him twice within twenty-four hours is shocking, trust me. I’d barely caught glimpses of him for a decade.”
Surprise swirled through me. “It was that bad?”
Savannah just nodded. “Still sorta is, but that’s beside the point right now. You need time, I know,” she said gently. “Which is why he’ll give it to you.” One of her shoulders lifted. “Time until he seeks you out. Talks to you. Gets closure. Tells you he’s lost without you. Whatever it is . . . time just means time, Madison. Y’all get to decide the details.”
Right.
I smiled at the kids when they came running through, Avalee waving wildly at me as they sped off toward another room.
“So,” Savannah went on, pinning me with a look, “let’s talk about this whole I-needed-him-to-let-me-go business.”
My lips parted, a refusal on the tip of my tongue as shame gathered, hot and thick in my chest. “It’s just so complicated.”
“Well, look at everything else we’ve uncomplicated,” she said, a soft smirk shaping her lips. “I’m sure we can get through this too.”
A dull laugh crept up my throat, my head slanting a little. “Uh . . .”
“Who the hell are you?”
A jolt of fear tore through me at the sound of his voice. It was deeper and rougher than it had been before, but the underlying threat was something I’d never forget.
Savannah gasped as she turned to look behind her. “Beau Dixon,” she said, equal parts reprimand and shock. “It’s Madison, you big bear. Jesus.”
But I’d already glanced to the side, locking onto midnight blue eyes that were narrowed in the same, menacing way they had been our entire lives. Recognition lit there a split second before Savannah said my name, but he just held my stare for a second longer before looking to his wife.
“What if she was a new guest?” Savannah snapped half-heartedly.
“I knew she wasn’t,” he said gruffly, and left it at that.
Same as he’d ever been. Never offering more than he had to.
But as he turned to walk away, he ground out, “Pretty fucking sure you’re not welcome here.”
“Beau.” His name ripped from Savannah on a horrified breath.
When he glanced over his shoulder, his narrowed eyes focused solely on me. “You hurt my wife? You’re not welcome in my home. Ever.”
“Beau, stop,” Savannah breathed.
When he spoke again, he turned to face us fully. “You can go.”
“Beau.”
I swallowed past the rock lodged in my throat and began standing. My stare darting to Savannah when she reached out and grabbed me to keep me in place.
“It’s fine,” I murmured, trying to pour understanding into the small words. I understood more than she knew.
“No, it isn’t.” She gripped my hand tighter as if telling me to stay and stood instead.
Marching up to her husband like she towered over him instead of it being the other way around. Pressing a hand to his chest and pushing him back like she could move the fortified mountain that was Beau Dixon.
Her hushed whispers had just barely begun reaching my ears when a cry rang out somewhere in the house.
I stood even though I knew in my bones that cry didn’t belong to Avalee, holding myself as tense as Savannah and Beau seemed to be doing at that moment. Gauging if it was playful or whining or—
“Damn it,” Savannah muttered as she took off for the source of it.