Page 88 of Impossible Love

I slow Leroy to a walk and stare at my brother, mouth open.

“I read somewhere that we don’t get to pick who we fall in love with. Shit happens, and boom! We look around wondering what the fuck just hit us, but it’s already too late. We’re fucked.”

I laugh. “That’s beautiful, Kevin. Seriously. You need to get yourself a TED Talk. Or a spot in the next poetry slam at the Sweetbriar Public Library.”

“They don’t let you use the F word at the public library. I already checked.”

I laugh my ass off. It feels good to laugh like that. And the damnedest part of all this is that my baby brother, the undercover philosopher-slash-comedian, is right.

I was falling in love with Victoria Backlund before I saw that contract.

Not long ago, I was thinking about the logistics of working part-time in San Diego, just so Victoria and I wouldn’t have to spend too much time apart.

I was even wondering what kind of changes she might want to make to the house. Her own office. A bigger walk-in closet.

Because I’d hoped my house would become our house someday.

And now I don’t know what the hell to do with myself.

Boom.

Chapter 46

Victoria

I sit on the edge of my bed, taking inventory.

I think it's safe to say I'm hungover. Not because I had too much to drink last night—because I didn’t have a drop—but because I had way too much Cal MacLaine.

Too much sex. Too much confusion. Too many moods. And very little communication.

I’m grieving him this morning, because I know he pulled away from me last night, completely, but I don’t know why. We were saying goodbye to each other in the most callous way possible.

It’s left me feeling off balance. Everything feels all wrong.

I stand and groan. I check the clock and see that it’s after noon. Every muscle in my body hurts, which isn’t exactly a shocker. We packed in more sex in the hours between sunset and sunrise than most people manage in a month. On top of that, I got very little rest. Once I left Cal and came back here to my guest room, I tossed and turned. I lay wide-eyed and wide awake, watching the sun get brighter in the sky. I could not get my mind to stop spinning, to stop thinking of what had passed between us.

I’ve been listening for any sign that he’s here in the house, such as cabinets slamming or feet stomping. But it’s silent. I’m fairly certain I heard the back door open and close a few hours ago, but I can’t be too careful. I want nothing to do with Cal today.

What I need is time and space to figure out my next steps.

I listen again and place my hand on the guest bedroom doorknob. I let the door open a crack. Immediately, I’m attacked, savagely mauled by two hairy and drooling beasts who must have been lying in wait in the hallway.

“Off! Get down!” Their combined weight is shoving me back into the room. “Come on, now, have mercy on me, ladies. I need coffee.”

They’re kind enough to jump down. They then follow at my heels as I hobble my way to the empty kitchen. Just then it hits me how in just a few days, I’ve gone from being afraid of these two dogs to considering them my squad. It still cracks me up that the two sweetest, most docile furballs on the planet are named after the most badass women warriors in movie history.

“Sit.” I distribute treats from the countertop jar, and then I get busy with making coffee. And some toast while I’m at it.

As the elixir of life drips into the pot, I lean my elbows on the sink and stare out the back window. The ranch is running at full speed. Summer is in one of the smaller exercise pens, working her magic with a young horse. I really like her—she’s smart and insightful and fun, all packed into a goth princess package. I’ll miss her when I go.

I’ll miss all the kind, hard-working people on Yosemite Ranch. And boy will I miss Jasmine and Jamie and Phyllis and the remarkable MacLaine men—diplomatic Finn, nerdy Declan, hard-ass Evander, and the surly Special K. If “silently grumpy” was an Olympic sport, I can picture Kevin and Cal duking it out for the gold.

I’ll miss this place. The smell of the desert. The ragged mountains, sparkling rivers, and pink sunsets. The lush embrace of the forests. I’ll miss it so much it will hurt.

I pour my cup and add some coconut cream, then throw the toast on a plate. I carry everything back to my room, where I nibble and sip while checking my emails. The girls join me, and before I can stop them, they jump onto the duvet and curl into two large, hairy donuts. Hey, it’s not my duvet or my rules. Sarah and Ripley are beloved, permanent residents here at Chez MacLaine, and they do whatever they can get away with.

I’m just a visitor who’s overstayed her welcome.

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