Page 66 of A Montana Fake Marriage

The metal of the fence poster clanged against the metal of the bar he hammered into the ground. It rattled and vibrated, making his arms tingle when he hit it at just the right angle. Unfortunately, that sensation wasn’t enough to tear his thoughts from Sammie.

Where had he gone wrong?

That was the question he couldn’t stop asking himself. He’d shied away from falling for her in the beginning—unwilling to accept that she might have feelings for him. But she had. He’d seen it. He’d felt it.

It just hadn’t been enough.

Could he have done something differently? Her issues with finances were similar to his own—they each worried about taking care of themselves. It all came back to that blasted prenup. Why hadn’t he thought about signing one?

Duh.

Because he wasn’t after her money. How on earth was he supposed to prove a negative at this point? There would be no way to convince her of that fact. Her father had found the perfect little crack in his daughter’s relationship. The guy was good.

Caleb seethed, thwacking the fence poster down even harder.

“Easy, Reese. You need to get it in the ground, not strike oil.”

He turned his dark gaze on the cowboy at his side. The man took one look at him and lifted placating hands before backing up afew steps. “Never mind. Drill away. But don’t get mad at me if you end up hurting yourself.”

Caleb was already hurting. It was the most excruciating pain he’d ever experienced. It knocked the air from his lungs and made him reconsider everything he knew about himself. If losing Sammie in the capacity he’d had her hurt this much, then what would happen if he lost her altogether? The second they finalized the divorce, she could slip off to hidden parts of the country and never see him again.

He was going to be sick. There was no other way around it. The little voice that kept warning him he’d made the wrong choice only grew louder the more time he thought about what had happened. Would she even take him back if he apologized? Probably not. With the way she let down her walls and cried the other night, chances were slim she’d ever want to take him back.

Caleb scowledat the food on his plate. As much as he wanted to avoid Sammie entirely, he couldn’t. It wasn’t just the fact that his folks insisted they still had family dinners. It was the fact that he couldn’t seem to stay away. Even with the way things had ended, he craved being with her. He wanted to ask her how her day had been. He wanted to take her out on a date.

Shoot!

He’d become so addicted to being with her that knowing he had to keep his distance seemed to be making him physically ill.

“Caleb? You okay, honey?”

A sharp dig to his ribs startled him from his thoughts, and he became all too aware that everyone at the kitchen table was staring at him.

Caleb avoided looking down the table at the one pair of eyes he couldn’t bear to look into.

Sammie.

She was finally joining them for dinners as well. There was some sort of hangup with the paperwork and her inheritance. She hadn’t gotten her money yet, and he wasn’t going to risk finalizing the divorce until he knew she would be okay. He knew all too well how hard it was for someone to get their feet under them after a major life event like this one.

Caleb glanced up at his mother. Her sad eyes were so easy to read. They weren’t just sad. There was worry there. And pity. He could see it plain as day. While she hadn’t outright told him that he shouldn’t get a divorce yet, she hadn’t hidden the way her mouth had thinned when she bit back that motherly advice.

He nodded, pushing away from the table. “I just don’t feel good. I’m heading to bed early.”

Once he was in the room he temporarily called his own, he pulled out the divorce papers that he’d hidden beneath his pillow. All the tabs were in place for where to sign. He couldn’t bring himself to sign the dang things early, even if he didn’t give them over to Sammie yet. Signing them felt too final.

The cot came up beneath him as he collapsed onto the firm surface. Eventually, he’d have to give them to her. Eventually, she’d give them right back. She’d take her money, and then she’d flee to whatever part of the country felt right for her.

He felt empty inside. Maybe he should just give her the documents and let her sign them first. Then at least he knew where her heart was.

Before he could second guess his decisions, he took the offensive documents and placed them on his old bed—the bed where Sammie currently slept. Eventually, she’d finalize the stuff with her dad. Then she could sign the document. She already had the post-nup—a promise that neither one of them would try to take what the other had.

It was all so… juvenile.

At least that’s how it felt to him.

He would never let her suffer out in the world on her own. And he wished she had been able to trust him.

The following day, as he continued to fume over his impossible situation, he was prepared to come home and attempt to talk Sammie into having a better discussion. It had only been about a week since they’d decided to part ways. All the red tape that held them in limbo might actually be a good thing.

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