Page 103 of Wildflowers & Whiskey

“Alright?”

“If that’s what you want.” I have to force myself to look at her then. “I ain’t going to make this any harder than it’s already got to be. But Maeve, this was not just fun to me. Don’t think it ever was.”

Her eyes widen, and for a second, she just stares at me like she’s trying to process what I’ve just said.

“I just.” She stops, draws a breath, and starts again. “I want you to listen to me for one more moment, please.”

I wait.

“I know you spent years keeping everyone at arm’s length, being the grump, and protecting every single person you care about so they never have to feel the weight of anything remotely bad. Please don’t go back to that. Whatever happens when I’m gone, don’t shut yourself out from happiness.”

The room sits quiet around us, long enough that I can hear my own breathing. I look at her for a long moment. At the morning light peeking through the curtains, catching the side of her face. I’m going to miss seeing her every day when she goes, having her next to me every morning. My chest aches. Knowing life with her in it has changed everything I thought I was content with. So her going… Well, that’s going to break me more than when Ruby left. And that, that tells me all I need to know.

“Angel.” My voice comes out low, a demand to be heard. “When you get on that plane, you’re going to be taking most of my happiness with you.” I confess.

Her face crumbles. “Wade don’t—” Fresh tears spill over before she can stop them. “Please don’t make this harder.”

I lean forward and press my lips to her forehead, leaving them there a moment longer than I should. When I pull away, I look at her, holding her hand, about to pour every emotion into what I am about to say, not to change her mind—though that would be the ideal outcome—but to let her know a glimpse of what she means to me.

“I ain’t trying to make it hard,” I murmur. “But I also need you to know something too.” I take a slow breath, trying to ease this ache that has yet to fuck off. “You helped me get my son talking to me again, like actually talking. I know you know what that means to me, but I had nearly given up on that ever being something I’d have again. And then you came along, and nudged, and pushed, and refused to let either one of us be stubborn about it.” A rough sound that isn't quite a laugh escapes me. “And on top of all that, you gave me—I don't know. A glimpse of something I forgot existed, the ability to let someone in, to see me for me.” I shake my head. “Didn't think anyone could get me there again, but you did.”

She wipes her face with the back of her hand, not saying anything, just listening.

“So, if this is truly what you want,” I say, “if it’s what you need, then I mean it when I say I’ll respect your decision.” I straighten up, putting some more distance between us because if I don’t, I will fold and take back what I just said. “I’ll stay out of your way for the time you’ve got left here. Give you some space…” For my sake too, I think.

“Wade, I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for, angel You’re probably right, like always.” I laugh. “This is the right thing to do for Colt… At least we got to be selfish for a little while.”

She gives me the smallest, saddest smile I think I've ever seen on a person. I push myself off the bed, dragging my boots across the floorboards. I stop at the door, with a hand on the frame, looking out to the hallway because I cannot say what I need to say to her. So, I whisper to myself, “I love you, Maeve.” Just to get it out there, because I am too late to tell her now.

I pull the door shut behind me and stand in the hall, one hand pressed flat against my chest like it's actually going to do any fucking good. The house is still quiet, leaving me alone with my thoughts, and that's the last place I want to be right now.

I push off and head through the house, quick, with the sudden urge to put as much distance between me and that room as I can. I aim straight for the front door. Don't care that it's way earlier than usual.

Ranch don’t run itself. Never has. Right now, though, I’d give anything for it to.

Chapter Thirty Nine

Maeve

Two weeks.

Fourteen days and I will be back in London, back in Iris’s flat, back to the life I never wanted to go back to, more so now after everything I’ve experienced. I booked the ticket three days ago, during the early hours of the morning as a sleep-deprived mess who hadn’t showered in days. Took all my energy yesterday to finally shower and get back to something resembling normal. Well, a new normal. One where Wade isn’t the highlight of my day anymore.

And that’s why I had to book the ticket, something I had put off for weeks now. Needed that date in the calendar, the one that says the end on this whole trip. Because without it, I don’t trust myself.

Today is the first day since my conversation with Wade that I have been able to face the kitchen at breakfast. I’ve been avoiding it. Not intentionally. Well, not at first. The first morning I couldn’t sit and act normal, like there wasn’t a bigger part of my morning missing. So, I stayed in bed until I heard the rumble of the hands rushing out to start their day so I could slip down, grab some coffee, and hide back in my room. The second morning, it was just easier to stay put. The third morning, I started to believe it was my new routine for the rest of my time here—just lie there and bed-rot as much as the day allowed me to.

The bed has become something of a sanctuary. A safe place for me to wallow in self-pity. Which is sad. I know that. But in bed no one asks me constant questions. In bed I don’t have to lie to anyone else.

Well, most of the time. Colt, as Colt does, has been checking on me every morning without fail. Same time each morning, a knock at the door followed by his gentle question on whether I need anything. I kept saying it was women's pains because no man dares to question that. It bought me the time I needed to get myself together. Only took five days, and if it wasn’t for the charity fundraiser tomorrow, I may have stretched it out another day or two.

But Naomi needs an extra pair of hands for setup today, and I can hardly say no to her. So, I’ve spent the better part of my day at The Lone Coyote with her, moving tables for the mechanical bull, sticking what feels like thousands of QR codes around the bar for people to donate money online—because who even carries cash nowadays—and listening to her talk through the running order of how tomorrow is going to look. The longer I am kept busy, the more thankful I am to have something to distract my mind.

By the time I get back to the ranch, the afternoon light is long gone, and all I want is my bed again. I don’t even bother with dinner. Just come straight up, pull the curtains half-closed, and lie down on top of the covers, still in my clothes.

I could read. I started a book the other day, which I have only managed to get two chapters into. Can’t seem to get past the same page. My brain reads it over and over again, not taking in any of it. And I doubt today would be any different, so I opt for the good old-fashioned staring at the ceiling instead, going back over everything I have done here, trying to work out a loophole with the last strand of hope I have. Fair to say I haven’t found one.