Page 80 of By Your Side
“Hunter,” Spencer pressed. “It’s her birthday. Don’t you think?—”
“I can’t.” My voice came out rougher than I meant.
He frowned. “Can’t? Or won’t?”
I set the wrench down harder than I should’ve. “She doesn’t want us public, Spence. Doesn’t want the town talking. If I walk in there tonight, everyone will know how I feel. And that’s not what she asked of me.”
Spencer studied me for a long second. “So you’re just going to sit here in this shop and mope while she blows out candles without you?”
My chest tightened. The picture of it rose up in my mind—Paige under those new lights, the jukebox humming, Piper probably shoving a fancy drink in her hand, her family around her, laughing, loving her.
And me? Not there. Not beside her where I wanted to be.
“She deserves to celebrate without me making things harder,” I said finally, my throat tight. “She’s going through enough.”
Spencer’s jaw worked, but he didn’t argue. He just grabbed his jacket off the hook. “Suit yourself. I’ll be there, keeping an eye on things. Deacon too. Tucker has the kids tonight. Brody and Dad are on their way. Are you sure you don’t want to come with me?”
“I can’t,” I all but growled. “Look at me, I’m a damn mess over her.” It was as close to honest as I’d been with him.
I hesitated, caught between the urge to go with him and the ache in my chest that kept me rooted to the spot. My eyes drifted to the birthday card tucked beneath a pile of invoices on the workbench—a card I’d bought weeks ago, intending to write something clever or sweet, but every time I tried, the words dried up in my throat.
I picked it up, flipping it between my fingers, tracing the embossed edges. This feeling was a living thing, coiling tighter with every second.
Some part of me wanted to believe I was doing the right thing—giving her the space she asked for, not making a scene, not forcing her to choose. But another part, stubborn and hopeful, kept whispering that maybe she wanted me there, even if she’d never say it out loud. Maybe I should make the choice for both of us and let my feelings show.
I let the card drop back down and scrubbed a hand over my hair, the familiar smells of oil and metal grounding me, even as everything else felt uncertain.
“Shit,” he finally said. “I understand. I’m sorry.”
I nodded, grateful and gutted all at once.
“I get it, I do,” He said as he reached the door. “I understand why you’re holding back. But don’t wait too long. She might need you more than you think.”
The door shut behind him, leaving me with nothing but the glow of the laptop in the dark. I sank onto the stool by the bench and dragged my hands over my face. I should be there. But all I could do was sit in this damn shop, watching the clock tick, listening to the empty silence, and wondering how much longer I could keep trying to pretend I didn’t want more.
I shut the laptop with a decisive click before I grew tempted to switch to the live feed. I did not need to see her having fun without me. And watching her without her knowledge would be wrong and creepy. Not to mention pathetic and sad.
My mind wandered back, like it always did lately, to that night years ago—the night of the pact. We’d been young, reckless, full of cupcakes and prom-night promises.If we’re not married by forty. We’ll marry each other.I had laughed when she said it, but even then, I’d wanted her more than I ever let on. More than I had ever been willing to admit to myself.
When I brought it up again a few weeks ago, I hadn’t meant it as a proposal. Not exactly. But I had meant it as a reminder. Of what we had back then, our friendship. Of what we could have if we tried for more. I wanted her to remember the way we used to be together—comfortable, steady, like the world made more sense when it was just the two of us. I wanted her to see that we’d always been good, and that maybe, we could be great now. I leaned back, staring at the ceiling, restlessness already pressing in on me like a storm I couldn’t outrun.
I wanted her. Not just for tonight, not just for the quiet moments after closing the bar. I wanted all of it. Her kids. Her chaos. Her mornings and her bad moods and her stubborn streak that could level a man if he wasn’t ready for it.
But she didn’t want the town knowing. She didn’t wantusin the open.
And if that was what she needed, then I’d grit my teeth and give it to her. Even if it meant sitting here in this empty shop, wanting her so badly it hurt.
The clock ticked on. Spencer’s truck had long since rumbled out of the lot, heading toward the tavern. The hum of the heater filled the silence.
I dragged a hand over my face, ready to stand up and lock everything down for the night, when my phone buzzed in my pocket.
I pulled it out, not expecting much. Probably Deacon, checking in about tomorrow’s schedule.
But it wasn’t.
It was her.
Paige: You should come tonight. Please. I want you here. With me.
