Page 103 of That One Night
And now she’d discovered that Hendrix was just as much of a coward. And that was like a knife to her heart.
“I’m going to go, watch him tell his parents, then make sure he signs off the lien. That way I know everything is done. I can move forward, get this house sold and then come back to work.”
“I wish I was there to help,” Maisie told her.
“You’ll be home soon.” That was the one bright light in the darkness.
“I can’t wait to see you.” Maisie took a long breath. “I’m sorry, too, though.”
“What do you have to be sorry about?”
“I wish I’d never given you that list. Then you wouldn’t be going through this.” Maisie sighed.
“I’m glad you gave me the list. It made me feel… I don’t know… alive. Like I’m finally able to take control of my future.” Emery swallowed down the anxiety she felt about what that future would look like. Yes, right now she was in a bad way. But she still had hope.
That was something, wasn’t it?
“Anyway, I never did complete the list,” Emery reminded her.
“When I get home we are definitely staying up all night talking,” Maisie promised her. “Just not on a school night. Listen, I have to go. Call me once everything is done withTrenton. Let me know if you need me to come and chop his balls off.”
“I will.” Not the ball-chopping part, though. Truth was, she’d been over wishing him pain for a while. She was overhim.
The man living in the farmhouse opposite her mom’s, though? She wasn’t sure she’d be over him for a long, long time.
And that hurt more than she could say.
Two days. That’s how long it had been since he’d told Emery it was over. A couple of times he’d seen her in her front yard, collecting eggs or making phone calls. But as soon as she’d seen him looking, she’d turned away, refusing to meet his gaze, let alone return the wave he’d give her.
He’d done the right thing. He knew that much. His chest felt tight at the way she’d looked so broken when he’d ended it. But she would have been more broken if her ex had done what he threatened and never signed off the lien.
Or if he’d spread the kind of gossip that Hendrix knew he could. The type that would paint Emery as a cheater and make everybody in town treat her differently.
He knew what it felt like for everybody to assume the worst of you. He’d learned how to deal with it. But Emery? She never could.
And she shouldn’t have to.
Maybe that’s why he wasn’t prepared to see her out on the lane when he rode home from work. She must have been taking a walk, because she was in the middle of the rocky, white road, wearing a pair of shorts and a tank, her hair tied back in a bun.
He came to a stop, his chest feeling tight at the sight of her. There was no smile on her face, no life in her eyes.
You did that.
He hated the way she wouldn’t meet his gaze.
“How are you?” he asked her softly, putting his foot down on the road to balance himself. He didn’t bother getting off the bike. She looked like she was ready to run away from him, anyway.
Can you blame her?
No, he couldn’t. He’d spent a lifetime running away from himself, after all.
“Fine.” She nodded, keeping her chin high. “You?”
Feeling like shit without you.“All good. We finished the sweetcorn harvest.” And it had been backbreaking work. Like he’d promised his uncle, he’d gotten there earlier than anybody else, and worked after the rest of the farmhands had gone home every evening.
If he was honest, it was mostly to avoid coming home and having to sit in his empty house, missing her.
“How’s the sale going?” he asked her. After he sent the message to Trenton, he’d gotten a reply the next day.
