Page 86 of Live, Ranch, Love

Fuck. I rake my fingers through my hair, clawing out the knots.

Would he actually do this?

I knew how he felt about her. The way the guys made it seem like he would never get over her. The way she clearly still had a hold over him, keeping onto those clothes for so many years. We’re technically not even together. Not like him and Holly were for years. How could I expect the couple of months we’ve known each other to trump years with his high school sweetheart?

Especially when neither of us know how long I’m going to be around. For all I know, this was always going to be ephemeral for him.

The blood rushing in my ears is almost deafening.

I’m letting myself spiral. And I can’t rely on him to help me out of it this time.

I need to get out of here.

When I make a dash for the stairs Wyatt jumps out to try to stop me. “Aurora, please, don’t go. Please, Aurora.”

“No!” I throw my hands up to ease him back from me, to clear my escape route. “You don’t get to call me that right now. You can call me Rory, like everyone else.”

Wyatt flinches, jaw ticking, brows drawing together. I try to ignore the way whatever is left of my heart breaks again at the pain flushing through his expression. Slowly, I can see the fire in his eyes start to extinguish, a consideration to give up cresting. I use the moment as an opportunity to run and head down the stairs, trying my best to hold myself together by wrapping my own arms around my body.

I can make it to the main house without crumbling.

I can do this.

“Get the fuck out of my house, Holly,” Wyatt’s bark echoes behind me. I hear him calling after me, and I try to pick up my pace. I’m only a short distance from the deck.

“Aurora, please,” his pleas are getting closer, and suddenly they’re ringing from right behind me, his running footfalls thumping with them. The next thing I know, Wyatt’s taking my arm, twisting me around to face him.

I want to yank myself away, but his touch instantly warms me, reminding me of all the times I was encompassed in his tender embrace, wrapped up in him and his pinewood scent. The smell of home.

But now, maybe also heartbreak.

Please tell me this isn’t happening again.

My eyes stay locked on where he gently grips my arm, strained muscles moving under his mountain range tattoo. With all the tears brimming in my eyes, I’m scared if I look anywhere else, they’ll gush out like a waterfall. So, even when he lets go, fingers stroking down my arm, I don’t move.

“Aurora, please.” Wyatt’s deep voice is barely above a whisper, like a racing river in the distance, ready to sweep me away should I step too close. “Jake might not have chased after you, but I will. Because you are worth it. Because you mean more to me than Holly ever has. I promise, with all my heart, that she kissed me.”

You will not cry, Rory. Not yet.

“But why was she there, Wyatt?”

“She said she wanted to talk. She was having doubts about her engagement and… Fuck, look, I realise now I shouldn’t have let her in. I’m sorry, but please, don’t run away from me.”

One lone tear streaks down my face. Wyatt watches it, redness seeping into the whites of his eyes. I know he’s breaking right now too—it’s obvious in the way his breath is shuddering, the way his fingers twitch at his sides, unable to touch me, the way every dark angle of his face is strained, trembling.

But every time I think of moving to hold him, I just get another flash in my mind of bodies tangled in a kiss, blonde hair swaying. I just need to get away for a second. To think and pull myself together.

For God’s sake, I said I’d take Jake to the airport in a couple of hours as well, as he forgot to book a taxi and Luke is busy. I can’t be a blubbering mess then because I sure as hell don’t want to go into the details of how his infidelity has clearly traumatised me to not be able to trust even when I know I should.

Reluctantly, I start easing backwards, checking over my shoulder to the house. “I—I just need some space right now. I’m not in the right headspace to talk about this properly. Please, I… I’ll come find you when I’m ready. I promise.”

***

“I think you’re supposed to drown your sorrows in alcohol, not tap water,” Duke’s voice startles me.

I whip my head up from where it has been buried between my arms, leaning against the booth table. He settles a glass of some colourful orange concoction on the table, nudging it towards me as he slides into the booth.

“Not that I’m trying to encourage alcoholism or anything, but it does help when you own a bar.” Duke’s smile is light, a gentle press of his lips that manages to still ease my tension.

---