Page 46 of Solitary Man

He put his fork down and sat back in his chair. “You haven’t done anything, Riley. I’m busy, that’s all.”

My gaze dropped to his split knuckles from punching the wall. They’d scabbed over. I reached out and covered his hand with mine. “You can talk to me.”

He stared down at my hand, throat working.

I grabbed what I’d made him from the chair beside me. “This is for you.” I slid his plate out of the way and put the book down in front of him. “It’s a scrapbook. It’s filled with all the emails we sent each other. I don’t think you know what they meant to me.”

He stared down at it, body completely still.

I opened the cover, placing my hand over the first one. “Or how I felt when I saw that you’d replied. The happiness just reading your words gave me.” I smiled at him. “Maybe one day we’ll be able to show it to our children?” I squeezed his hand. “In your emails, you were…”

He stood suddenly, his chair sliding back hard, hitting the wall behind him.

I blinked up at him.

“Thank you for the…it’s…” He swallowed convulsively. “I need to get back to work.” He started toward the door.

“Cash…”

He paused by the door, shoved his fingers through his hair, and turned back to me. “I’m going away tomorrow, for a couple days. Hunting with Hank and Beau. You’ll be okay?”

Would I be okay? As it was right now, I felt like I was all alone anyway. And I would not beg him to stay. I’d begged my parents to stay, and they’d left anyway. I wouldn’t do that to myself again. Never again. “Yes,” I whispered, glad when my voice didn’t break.

He dipped his chin and walked out.

I cleaned up, showered, and went to bed. I woke when Cash climbed in beside me. He didn’t reach for me. He stayed as far away from me as he could.

When I woke the next morning, he was gone. He’d left on his hunting trip.

And he hadn’t even said goodbye.

11

Riley

As the plane came in to land, my heart was in my throat.

Three days Cash had been gone. Three days I’d been here on my own, wondering when he’d come back. Wondering what he was thinking. What he was feeling. If he even wanted me here anymore.

I felt like I didn’t factor in his world, like I wasn’t important.

I’d spent most of my life feeling that, and dammit, it hurt. So much.

He climbed out of his plane, looking extra rugged after three days of hunting, and despite it all—his silence, him not touching me, not saying goodbye when he left—I still had to stop myself from running to him, from throwing my arms around him.

Seeing him filled me with happiness and broke my heart all at the same time. I couldn’t be with someone who was completely and utterly emotionally unavailable. Who would rather run away and hunt for three days than discuss what the real problem was.

All I could do was speculate. I’d been doing that since before he left.

And now I wasn’t just hurt, I was angry as hell.

So when he walked in, did that jaw-clenching thing and dipped his chin in greeting, I lost it.

“Well, hello to you, too. Nice of you to finally come home.” I planted my hands on my hips, fighting back tears when he said nothing. Refusing to let them fall. “Yes, I’m fine, thanks. Lovely of you to ask.”

His wide chest rose, expanding on his deep breath. “Riley…”

I waited, but he said no more, his eyes boring into me, that square jaw working like he was trying to find actual words but none would come.