Tangle (Dogwood Lane 2)

“Trev . . .”

“What if I do that to Haley? What if I decide it’s not for me and something happens to her? I couldn’t hack it, Jake. I’d be done.” I shiver, my stomach threatening to expel Lorene’s biscuits and gravy that I had for breakfast. “I just don’t know if I can take that responsibility.”

“You’re the only one who knows, little brother.”

Fuck. All I know is that hurting her would break me. Surely that can’t be love.

It’s lust. She needs someone who is all about love. All about lifelong love and commitment. And that’s . . . that’s not me.

“I can’t commit to that with her.” I turn to see Penn standing at my truck, his hands over the bed. My stomach twists and I force a swallow. “I gotta go. I’ll call you later.”

“Bye.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

HALEY

Hey,” I say.

I step onto the porch and close the door behind me. Trevor kisses the top of my head before taking my hand and guiding me down the sidewalk.

The friend kiss again. Okay.

“Thanks for coming with me,” I say. My voice wobbles more than I’d like, but I’m doing my best to keep my composure. Every day, every hour, that passes is a moment closer to him leaving and me not having a resolution to whatever it is we are. Or aren’t.

“Absolutely,” he says. “In you go.”

The truck door opens and I climb inside. I set the vase of flowers I arranged earlier for Neely on the floor between my feet, and by the time I’m situated, Trevor is climbing in.

The conversation he suggested we have yesterday hangs over us like a dark cloud. I feel it lingering about, threatening to ruin everything.

I don’t know whether to bring it up or to let Trevor do it. As he flips on the engine, I figure it might be best to wait until the party is over. I’d rather not see my friends with mascara tears, and even though I knew who Trevor was going into this sexual relationship, it hurts. But at least I’m happier in myself and I’m still awesome.

But I might still cry . . .

“Did you design those?” he asks, nodding to the flowers.

“Yeah. They’re pretty, huh?”

“You did good, Ohio.”

He pilots the truck onto the road. I turn the heat up on my side and rub my hands together in front of the vent. There’s a chill I can’t shake, but I think it radiates from inside me and no amount of heated air will fix it.

“Turn here,” I say.

“So why are they moving?” he asks. It’s a clear conversation starter, and I hate that it’s so forced.

“Dane has lived in the house they live in now since before Mia was born. Now that Neely is in the picture, he thought it would be nice to have a house they could all see as home.” I shrug. “It’s pretty sweet, actually.”

“He seems like a good guy.”

“He really is.”

We drive quietly out of town. The sun hovers over the horizon, painting the sky the most beautiful colors. Trevor bites a fingernail, something I’ve never seen him do before, and I wonder if that’s a good sign or a bad one.

I’ve thought about our impending conversation all day and popped antacids like they’re candy. Whether it’s out of necessity or because I’m that desperate, I can find some hope in things. He came into the shop today. He’s going with me tonight. He wouldn’t do those things if he didn’t see something for us together. It wouldn’t make sense, and if Trevor is anything, he’s logical.

Besides sexy. He’s so fucking sexy.

He glances at me out of the corner of his eye and smirks. “You’re staring again.”

“You’re cute again. What do you want me to do?”

He reaches over and grabs my thigh. He gives it a gentle squeeze. “Thanks for inviting me tonight.” His tone lacks any enthusiasm whatsoever.

“Thanks for being so excited about it.”

He laughs, removing his hand. Instantly, I miss it. I want to take it off the steering wheel and put it back on my leg. Or arm. Or face.

Damn it.

“Is this it?” Trevor points at a farmhouse on the right. “Never mind. The sign makes it clear.”

We pull into the driveway and park behind Penn’s truck. Trevor jumps out and opens my door and pulls me into him before my feet hit the ground.

He smells amazing, like leather and pine. I wrap my arms around him and bury my face in his chest. He holds me tight, gripping the back of my head and pressing it into him. My body relaxes as his heartbeat plays beneath my cheek.

“I know you want an answer,” he says quietly. “I don’t want you to think I’m avoiding you or the conversation.”

“But aren’t you?” I ask, my chest burning like it’s on fire.

“No.” He shakes his head. “We have to figure out where we stand. I know that. I’m not stupid.”