My pulse is pounding in my ears. The sun is beating down on my flushed face while Devin’s fingers burn into the skin on my arm.

“What else is there?” I ask, happy my voice doesn’t betray the terror coursing through my body.

His grip relaxes and he traces down my arm with his fingers until his palm finds mine. He squeezes but says nothing. We stare at our clasped hands, both afraid to let go.

“I owe you an apology,” I start, unsure if anything I say will matter. “You were right. I’m leaving. I should’ve told you. I was trying to find a way, but after everything that happened with Becs, I just didn’t know how.” I close my eyes and force away the tears. I swallow the sadness and push on. “I was afraid. That you’d say no. Or that you’d ask me to choose. That I might lose you.” I let out a tortured laugh. “Guess it doesn’t matter now. I lost you anyway.”

I force myself to meet his eyes. I need to know he hears me. “I’m starting a program to help small businesses. For the next few years, I’ll be traveling around the state, doing what we did here.” I nod behind him to the shop. “It’s what I want to do.”

He lets go of my hand and a twinge of sadness flashes across his stoic face. Most people would miss it, but I know him too well and I’m looking too hard not to see. I close my eyes and let my head drop back, the hot sun on my face no match for the fire burning in my heart for this man.

Tears choke my voice when I confess, “I wish I was stronger, but I’m not.” I shake my head and stare into those beautiful coal black eyes. “I can’t be with you like this. Halfway. I love you too much. I’d make myself miserable trying to make you happy.”

I force myself to walk away, my heart breaking in my chest with every step. I refuse to let myself look back.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Devin

My pointless alarm goes off at six and my fist comes down with a vengeance on the Snooze button. I didn’t fall asleep last night. I haven’t slept for shit in the weeks since I walked out of Jessie’s bedroom. I thought walking away would be easier than getting strung along, but I can still smell her on my pillows. I hear her laugh in the silence. I see her everywhere, catching imagined glimpses of her wherever I go. It’s worst in the shop. That place is my second home, but these days it tortures me with memories of the crazy woman who stomped on my heart.