Page 63 of Wrecked for Love
“Stay,” I ordered, my voice rough as I stalked inside.
I didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop. My hands acted before my brain caught up. I ripped the new mattress from the bed, dragged it through the house, out to the porch, and heaved it off the edge. It landed with a dull thud in the dirt, as useless as the trust I’d placed in her.
I should’ve kept the old one. It was lumpy, but at least it was mine—not bought with care for sharing with the enemy. Now? Now I had nothing. No bed. No peace.
No Claire—the version of her I thought I knew.
I sank into the couch, staring into nothing, my mind as blank as the room.
“What a fool,” I told myself.
But then I stood, remembering Koda didn’t deserve to be left waiting. I couldn’t eat, but my mutt didn’t need to starve along with me.
Logan called just as I was getting up. If I didn’t pick up, he’d be knocking on my door soon enough.
“Log,” I answered, balancing the phone between my shoulder and ear as I mixed Koda’s meal.
“You good?”
I drew in a breath. “Yeah. Yeah.”
“Did you talk to her?”
“Not yet. I’m wiped out. I’ll deal with it tomorrow,” I lied. I wasn’t one for lying, especially to my best friend. But after tonight’s betrayal, I felt capable of anything.
“All right, man. If you need anything…”
“Thanks. You’re a good friend, Log,” I replied before hanging up.
I fed Koda, giving him a pat as he stared at me, clearly sensing something was off. Then, I drifted back to the couch, back to being alone, though now it felt ten times worse.
24
CLAIRE
I packed like my house was burning—yanking open drawers and tossing clothes into my bag without a second thought. Shirts, pants, whatever I could grab—none of it folded, just crammed in. Toothbrush, hairbrush, my favorite perfume—it all landed haphazardly between the mess of fabric.
This wasn’t routine; this was me giving up. If The Revenants tracked me down, let them. I couldn’t stay and scrub this place clean like I’d done with every other safe house. Every inch of it reminded me of that scumbag Armand Voss and, worse, of the man I thought had been on my side walking out like I was nothing.
Then there was the study. God, someone had died there. Tessa had died there.
I almost closed my eyes, refusing to admit I was even standing in the room, but I couldn’t leave my laptop behind. Like a panicked animal, I rushed in, grabbed it, and hurried out again, barely sparing a glance. The door shut behind me with finality.
I slung my bag over my shoulder. There was no coming back. The Willow, once my refuge, had become my hell. To makematters worse, I realized my car wasn’t even here. Elia had driven me from the gas station. So, I walked. The station was miles away, but there was no other option.
The darkness gave no relief. It only served as a reminder that there was nowhere to hide, even in solitude. The running, the losses, the guilt…I could handle those. But not being believed? By the one person who meant everything?
I huffed out a long breath and watched the vapor rise in the cold air. Somehow, the chill made things clearer. I wasn’t angry at him. Instead, his reaction drained me of all emotions. Numb. But even numbness could hurt, just like how gripping ice burns you.
At the station, I breathed a sigh of relief. My car was still there, waiting like the one small thing that hadn’t turned against me. I got in and drove. Passing Paul’s, Mama Berry’s shop…I kept my eyes straight ahead. Thankfully, The Lazy Moose was on the other side of town, so I didn’t have to see it.
The reason I’d come back was to turn myself in—for Elia. But he hadn’t cared. Like he’d hinted, he’d dealt with the Vosses long before I came along. It wasn’t my job to protect him. I had a conscience, but after being dismissed so completely, I could only shrug it off.
I stopped by the shelter and turned the key in the lock for the last time. Noises drifted from behind the building. The dogs knew me, so there was no frantic barking, just a quiet recognition like they understood it was goodbye. I didn’t make it to the backyard. Instead, I left my silent farewell hanging in the air. The cats, lazy as ever and not a care in the world, barely twitched an ear as I left.
I slipped an envelope onto the counter, parting with most of what I had left from New York. Then I set the key down, the lock clicking behind me as I stepped away for good.
Back behind the wheel, the engine hummed. Clare Ashbourne’s car was still going strong, with plenty of life left in her. And hell, why did that make me think of the time Elia fixed the spark plugs?
