Southern Bombshell (North Carolina Highlands 5)

“Nothing.” A pause. “I think you should go.”

I lean back from the sink and drop my head. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what else to say. I’m sorry it happened that way, and I’m sorry you feel the way you do. I hate—” My voice catches. “I hate that I hurt you.”

I can’t see her, but I can picture her looking away and rolling her lips between her teeth, distraught.

“I don’t think I can do your wedding,” she says.

Thank fuck. I can’t keep being torn in two like this, caught between the guilt I feel for hurting this woman and the commitment I’ve made to another. Because I do love Reese, and I want to make her happy. She makes me happy. And once Milly is out of the picture—once she stops reminding me how fucking great we were together—I’ll stop feeling like I’m being ripped apart.

I’ll be back on solid ground.

“I think that’s a smart call. I’ll tell Reese.” My stomach clenches. She’ll be heartbroken.

How many hearts am I gonna break? We’re all trying to do the right thing. But the right thing keeps fucking me over, and I’m sick of it.

I’m sick of everything and everyone.

“Please.” I scoop up Lucy and meet Milly’s eyes one last time. “Take care of yourself, all right?”

She nods, lips still curled between her teeth. “I will.”

“Bye, Milly.”

“Bye, Nate.”

My heart’s in my throat when I turn for the door.

It promptly drops to the hardwoods between my feet when I see Beau standing in the doorway.

Beau looks at me, then turns his head slightly to look at Milly. Seeing her tears, he arranges his face into a stony mask of fury.

“What’s going on here?”

Chapter Fifteen

Milly

“Nate was just leaving,” I say, pushing off the counter. “It’s fine. We’re fine.”

Beau’s murderous gaze stays on Nate. My stomach dips.

Captain Obvious statement, but: this is not good.

“You don’t look fine,” Beau replies, still glaring at Nate.

Lucy, being Lucy, works her way out of Nate’s grasp to hustle over to Beau and make a new friend. She jumps up on his leg and wags her tail. He finally breaks eye contact with Nate to look down at her, bewildered.

“Stop being such a caveman.” I step forward to stand beside Nate. I don’t know how I feel about the argument we just had, but I do know I’m not going to let a fistfight break out in my kitchen. “Nate gave me a ride after my car was towed downtown. He just dropped me off, and now he’s leaving.”

“Hm.” Beau arches a brow. “So what happened between then and now that made you cry? And why is he in your house if he was just dropping you off?”

All good questions.

I look at Nate. He looks back. A beat of silent understanding passes between us. No one’s taking the lead here because that wouldn’t be fair. There’s no good explanation as to why Nate’s in my house and I’m a hot mess, but we’ll do our best to smooth the ruffled feathers nonetheless.

What else can we do?

“I upset your sister, and I’m sorry about that,” Nate begins.

“He apologized,” I say to Beau. “That’s as much as you’re gonna get because this is a private matter that happened in a private residence. Which begs the question, what are you doing here?”

Beau turns his gaze back to Nate. “I was taking my daughter for a walk when I saw the Bronco pull through the entrance. It’s been a spell since I saw that truck in these parts. Had a feeling something was up, so I hustled home to drop Maisie off and came over here. I heard y’all arguing, and I came in”—he nods at the back door—“to make sure everything was okay.”

“I told you, I’m fine,” I reply.

“Aren’t you engaged to someone else?” Beau asks Nate.

The pink flush that’s crept from Nate’s neck to his face turns red. “I am.”

“Then what are you doing alone with my sister in her kitchen?”

“My dog jumped out of my car,” Nate says steadily. “I had to come in to get her.”

“Then I started an argument,” I say.

Nate turns to me. His eyes are almost amber in this light. They’re sad. “No, you didn’t. You just asked a question you had every right to have answered.”

Everything about his expression communicates heavy sadness. The furrowed brow, the hard jaw.

His sadness affects me far more than his anger. The ache in my center intensifies. I can hardly breathe.

“What question was that?” Beau asks.

I step forward to grab Lucy. “I told you, that’s between Nate and me. C’mon, Kingsley, I’ll walk you out.”

I don’t miss the way Nate winces at Kingsley. I’ve never called him that before. It must sound impersonal to both our ears.

“I’ll come with you,” my brother says.

Rolling my eyes, I head for the front door. “You’re ridiculous.”