Page 184 of Three Reckless Words

Now, I’m another name on her long list of disappointments, and I can’t blame her for taking the one way out she had.

She left.

The worst part is, I know what she’s feeling.

I know how she feels about rejection.

Her entire family, her stupid ex-fiancé, the career she had in politics, they all made her feel likeless.

Now I’m standing here, gobsmacked that I followed in their footsteps.

Colt shuffles into the kitchen, sees me standing there reading the letter that Winnie stained with her tears, and walks back out again.

What does he know?

“Wait,” I say, lurching after him. He’s been home all day—he probably saw her leave. Maybe she talked to him or said something, or at least—

Goddammit, what? I don’t even know what I want besides having Winnie back.

Colt stops in the hall, folding his arms.

“What do you want?” His voice has an edge that says he’s hiding something.

“Did you know she was leaving?” I demand, not caring that I’m too heartsick to be Mr. Calm Upright Dad of The Century right now.

He shakes his head. “Not until she came into the kitchen with all her bags and that letter. She wascrying, Dad.”

Hearing that knifes me deep.

“Did she say where she was going?”

“No. She didn’t say much, just that you guys had a fight.” He stares at me sullenly. The kid’s got a point.

I’d be thinking the same thing if I was him, wondering how my old man could fuck up such a good thing.

“So what was it? Don’t tell me you chickened out.” He sighs.

“Work stuff,” I bite off. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Work stuff? Lame. And yeah right, it must matter a lot if you’re shitting things up with an awesome girl,” he throws back, shaking his head again, this time in disgust. “I can’t believe you.”

Me neither, kid.

Snarling, I lean against the counter and pull out my phone, which has been buzzing frantically in my pocket.

For a brief second, I’m able to hope it’s Winnie until I see it’s my brothers, checking in. Patton wants to make sure I’m okay and Dex is close behind him.

I don’t have the heart to answer them.

And I don’t the rest of the day, either.

Instead, as Colt shuts himself away in his room and ignores me, I mope around the house in the hopes she’ll call or come back or—fuck, do something.

Just tell me you’re okay.

I read your letter and I know you had your reasons. We can still talk.

I hate that I only realize I’m being desperate and clingy after I send those texts.

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