Page 55 of Wild Highway (Runaway 2)

Easton was not the man for me. As much as I liked my little cabin, I didn’t fit here. He’d been right all along.

I didn’t fit.

Spending three months here wouldn’t change that fact. Bet or not, I was leaving. He could gloat to his family while I was a thousand miles south, enjoying some California sunshine.

I’d stick around long enough to spend a few more nights with Katherine. But as soon as the groceries in my trunk were gone, so was I.

The light was nearly gone by the time I made it home to the cabin. The stars were out in full force and the temperature was dropping fast. Before unloading the Cadillac, I made a fire to warm up the cabin, then I busied myself with putting groceries away.

There was enough food here for a week. I’d invite Katherine over as often as possible and the two of us would have a bit more time together before I hit the road. If I was lucky, the weather would hold out and I wouldn’t get snowed in.

By the time the groceries were unloaded, the cabin was toasty warm and I poured myself a hearty glass of wine, lifting my glass to the empty room. “Cheers to another week. And a lonely Friday night.”

Tears flooded my eyes, and before I could pull them in, I was crying off my makeup.

This wasn’t why I’d come to Montana. This wasn’t why I’d started this journey.

I wanted to feel, but this? No, thank you.

But the dam had broken and there was no holding back the flood. Drops of ugly poured from my body in a stream of uncontrollable tears and broken sobs.

I stood there, in the middle of the room with my wine sloshing over the rim of my glass and cried.

I cried for the life I’d worked so hard to build. The life that had meant so fucking much to me three months ago. The life I’d left behind.

Selling the company and leaving Boston hadn’t been a mistake, but for the first time, I mourned. Because twelve million dollars in the bank hadn’t made me any less alone.

The tears came faster. The sobs wracked harder. My knees were seconds from giving way, collapsing me into a pathetic puddle, when two arms wrapped around me and kept me from falling.

Easton pinned me to his chest, holding me with one arm as he took the wine from my hand and set it on the table beside us. Then he let me soak the front of his green shirt with my tears.

I held tight, letting him keep me standing, because I couldn’t seem to pull it together. No matter how many deep breaths I sucked in through my nose, they exhaled in a mess. Until finally, minutes later, one of them stuck. Then another. And the tears just . . . ran out.

Even when I stopped crying, Easton didn’t let me go.

“I’m okay.” I pushed him away and wiped my face dry, turning my back to him because he’d witnessed rock bottom. “Sorry.”

“What was that, Gem?”

“Nothing.” I waved him off. “What are you doing here?”

“You left the bar upset.”

Honestly, I was surprised he’d noticed. And that he’d come to check on me. Or maybe he was here for a hookup. Regardless, I was such a train wreck that I hadn’t even heard him drive up. “It’s nothing. Sometimes women cry.”

“Bullshit. What the hell is going on?”

“Nothing. It’s been a long week.”

“Gemma.” He took my elbow and spun me to face him.

“What!” I batted his hand away. “It’s nothing.”

He stood there, unwavering, and leveled me with a look that said he had no intention of leaving until he got his answer.

The stubborn ass. “You were flirting with the bartender.”

“Liz?” He barked a laugh. “I don’t flirt with Liz. She’s been my friend since we were in diapers.”