Page 105 of Most Likely to Fear Love

We drank our coffee quietly after that, the silence broken only by the kids’ laughter as they chased the dogs around the backyard. It was peaceful in a way, but it also made the emptiness inside me feel sharper, like I was watching a life I couldn’t have.

Fuck that noise. I finished my coffee, set the mug down and stood up. “I should get going.”

Sarah got up too, giving me a long look before she nodded, not in the least reassured. “Alright. Let’s get the kids to say goodbye.”

The goodbyes were quick. Hugs from the kids and slobbery kisses from the dogs, then Sarah led me outside. We walked in silence to my truck, and when we reached it, she turned to me, her eyes filled with worry.

She wrapped her arms around me, pulling me into a tight hug. “Text me every day, okay? Just so I know you’re alright.”

I hugged her back, the lump in my throat making it hard to speak. “Yeah. I will.”

She pulled back, her hands on my shoulders. “I love you, Harle. Just remember that.”

I swallowed hard, nodding. “I love you too.”

With that, I got in the truck, started the engine, and pulled away from the house. I drove down the long drive, the dogs watching me from the front porch, tails wagging. At the gates, I paused, staring at the intersection. Left or right? North or south? It didn’t really matter.

On a whim, I turned north, the road stretching out ahead of me, and let the unknown pull me along. Away from Cassidy.

CASSIDY

Thirteen days. Not even a fortnight. It felt like I’d lived a lifetime in that short span of time. It wasn’t a good life, either. But it was one I made for myself, so now I just had to deal with it.

I sat at my desk, staring at the blank screen of my computer, my thoughts in a never-ending downward spiral.

This was so much harder than what happened with Brian and I just wasn’t prepared for that. With Brian, the choice had been made for me. The truth had come crashing through my front door wearing Michelle’s face and carrying a manila envelope full of evidence. But with Harle... God, with Harle, I was the one choosing to walk away. From someone honest. Someone real. Someone who’d laid his heart bare and trusted me with his darkest truths.

I’d thought I was doing the right thing, knowing I could never give Harle what he deserved. But how could the right thing feel so wrong?

I was such a fucking mess, I couldn’t think straight.

The obvious solution was to bury myself in work. Right now, my desk was piled high with briefs, reports, summaries,files, anything I could get my hands on to keep my thoughts awayfrom him.It wasn’t enough to just stay busy; I needed to be exhausted, wrung out, my mind so consumed by work that there was no room for anything else.

But no matter how many emails I sent, no matter how many contracts I reviewed, no matter what I did, the memories just wouldn’t quit haunting me. The way he smiled at me, the way he touched me, the way he cared for me.

The sharp ping of my computer broke through my thoughts. I quickly wiped my eyes and glanced at the screen, grateful for any kind of distraction.

It was an email.

From Michelle Buchanan.

My stomach dropped so fast I felt dizzy. The pen I’d been holding clattered to the desk as my fingers went numb. Michelle. Brian’s other wife. My throat closed up as I read the name again, willing it to change into something, anything else. It felt like it had been eons since she first showed up at my door, revealing the web of lies Brian had spun around both of us. I hadn’t heard from her since that day.

My hand jerked away from the mouse like it had burned me, and I could feel my pulse hammering in my throat. Nope. Not today. Not when I was already this emotionally raw.

I turned back to the Willis brief, but the words swam before my eyes. My hands trembled as I tried to shuffle the papers into some semblance of order, anything to distract myself. But the unopened email sat there like a ticking bomb, demanding my attention. What could she possibly want after all this time? The metallic taste of anxiety flooded my mouth as I considered all the possibilities.

Three times I minimized my email, my mouse clicking with unnecessary force. Three times I brought it back up, my breath coming in short, uneven bursts.

“Get it together, Hayes,” I muttered, running my fingers through my hair. The smart thing would be to delete it unread. To maintain the clean break I’d made years ago. To keep that chapter of my life firmly closed, the shame and humiliation locked away where no one could see it.

My fingers drummed against my desk as I stared at the screen. What possible reason could she have for reaching out now? The question ate at me. I’d spent so many years running from anything that might hurt me. Maybe it was time to stop running.

Fuck it. I needed to know. I sucked in some air, held it for a moment, then clicked the email.

Hi Cassidy,

I hope this email finds you well.

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