Oh God. She’d lost Wes.
How, though?
How?
Their relationship had been new, but strong. Every time a worry bubble rose to her surface, he found a way to pop it. Found a way to make her forget it ever existed in the first place. He helped her laugh away her fears and focus on the good. No, he’d made her feel the good, not just look for it.
Wes had fought her dragons valiantly.
And she’d . . .
Kept letting them out, expecting him to crash back onto the scene in his suit of armor every time, sword at the ready. Had she stopped fighting her own mental battles and left the chore up to him too often?
Yes.
Yes, clearly she had. And everything he’d said to her in the kitchen tonight had been terribly accurate. She’d been looking for weaknesses in the foundation they were building together. She’d been up to her old tricks of searching for a way out so she wouldn’t have to face her imperfections.
God, it would have slayed her if Wes had shown her kind of reticence. Instead he’d been the steadfast one, never letting her feel anything less than secure. Yes, she’d been working on herself, but not quickly enough. She couldn’t sustain the blow of having her home deemed unsuitable and everything had fallen apart in the blink of an eye.
It was her fault. Entirely.
She’d folded like a cheap lawn chair and hurt the man she loved. And there was no mistaking that. He’d all but begged her with his eyes not to push him away. Now she’d lost the only person who’d ever looked over a list of her demons and signed up anyway.
Bethany pressed both hands to her face, letting salty tears trickle down along her palms to her lips, dripping onto her shirt. Oh man, she’d fucked up. She might have made herself more vulnerable to Wes than she ever had with another human being, but when it came down to brass tacks, she’d demanded a lot of Wes and given not enough in return. She was unreliable and wishy-washy and unworthy of someone with a heart that big.
Hastily, she wiped her eyes and looked up and down the hallway. It was the middle of the night, so there was nothing but lingering dust and a freshly cut lumber smell to keep her company. That’s what she deserved—to be alone.
The Bethany she’d been before Wes would have preferred to be alone.
Did she prefer it now?
No. God, no. Nothing got accomplished that way.
Bethany sat up straighter.
At the outset of this project, she’d set out to prove she could flip a house alone and do a better job than her brother. A better job than anyone. That wasn’t what she’d learned, though. She’d learned to accept help and be grateful for it. She’d learned it took letting down her guard and admitting when she made a mistake—like firing Wes or ordering the wrong size tile for the bathroom and a million other things she’d done along the way—to be successful. Perfection wasn’t success. It was impossible and frankly kind of boring.
It was the effort paid to the project that made her proud.
Not the outcome.
If only she’d made the same effort with Wes.
Bethany pushed herself up off the floor and walked to the living room, using her fingernail to scratch a piece of tape off the plastic wrapped around the couch. Was she going to learn from her lesson? Or was she going to pretend the last two and a half weeks never happened and crawl off to lick her wounds?
Honestly, the latter held the most appeal. Her knees were rubber and her eyes were gritty from crying. She wanted a certain set of strong arms around her and the knowledge that she didn’t deserve them was the most painful of all.
Still, she slipped her phone out of her pocket and dialed her sister, determined not to slip into the patterns that had landed her in this lonely, cold wasteland without the man who’d stood by her side when she didn’t deserve it.
“What’s wrong?” Georgie answered, sounding alarmed.
“Nothing is wrong,” Bethany said quickly. “Sorry to call you in the middle of the night like this. I just . . . need some help.” She swallowed. “I need your help staging the house for tomorrow. I can’t do it alone.”
A long pause. “Wait. Is this Bethany? My sister Bethany?”
A dull smile drifted across her lips. “Yes, it’s me.”
“Okay . . .” Georgie said slowly. “I’ll leave Travis sleeping and be right over.”
Travis piped up in the background. “Like hell.”
“She needs help staging the house,” came Georgie’s muffled voice.
“Bethany needs help?”
“Yes!”
“Are you sure it’s her?”
Their voices faded out for a few moments amid the sounds of covers rustling, then Georgie was back. “Travis is coming with me. He doesn’t think I can handle the mean streets of Port Jefferson alone.”
“The more the merrier. See you soon.”
Georgie didn’t come alone. She showed up with half of the Just Us League members, including a sleepy-eyed Rosie, Dominic in tow looking stoic and protective of his wife as usual. Bethany opened the front door of the house, so taken aback by the sea of smiling faces staring at her, she stumbled sideways. They didn’t wait for her to greet them and they didn’t ask for an explanation; they simply filed past her one by one, a couple of the older ladies patting her on the shoulder as they passed. The house went from eerily silent to extremely noisy, as plastic was ripped with Stanley knives, boxes were broken down, and furniture was dragged across floors. Bethany stared at the chaos with grateful tears in her eyes until her type A genes couldn’t take it anymore and she joined the effort.
It took until dawn and a lot of hoarse instructions before the house was arranged as she’d envisioned. She didn’t experience her usual dose of satisfaction, though, because the person she wanted to share the joy with the most wasn’t there. He was getting ready to leave her—and rightly so.
With yawns aplenty, her impromptu decorating committee started to leave and she stood at the door, thanking each and every one of them until they’d all driven off to start their days, undoubtedly exhausted. Travis, Georgie, Rosie, and Dominic all lingered behind, cleaning up the last of the unpacking mess.
Georgie came up beside Bethany, laying her head on her shoulder. “It looks amazing. You should be really proud.”
“I barely recognize it,” Travis added, turning in a circle to take in what was once his childhood home. “And that’s a damn good thing. Nice going, Bethany.”
“Thanks.” Her heart beat heavily in her chest. “I didn’t do it alone.”
Rosie handed her one of the coffees Dominic had gone out to pick up at the gas station, and asked gently, “Wes is home with Laura, I’m assuming?”
Bethany didn’t miss the curiosity in her friend’s tone. She’d obviously noticed that something was wrong. “They’re at my house. They moved into my house.”
Four sets of eyebrows shot up.
“I don’t know how long they’ll be there,” Bethany continued stiltedly. “I’ve ruined everything.”
“What is . . . everything? If you don’t mind me asking.” Travis shot his wife a look. “You’re supposed to keep me abreast of the gossip.”
“I wasn’t abreast of it myself,” Georgie murmured, studying Bethany’s face. “Whatever it is you think you ruined, it’s fixable. We’ll help.”