Tumble (Dogwood Lane 1) - Page 76
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I cry.
He stops at the front of the truck. His lips are twisted as he settles his gaze on me. “You can’t even see what really matters anymore. Should Mia have given you some kind of award instead of a bracelet?” He glares at me. “I let you in our life. In our home.”
“Well, I let you in my life, too, you know.” I rub my thumb over the soft threads of my most cherished piece of jewelry. “I let you both in my life.”
“Pardon me. We were clearly a threat,” he deadpans. “You know how much of a threat I was to you? I was trying to figure out how to ask you to move in with us, and all the while you’re plotting to leave.”
My world crumbles around me, my knees threatening to fail altogether. I can’t blink the tears back faster than they fall.
Why couldn’t he have said this a couple of days ago? Why does this have to happen now?
Memories of Mia’s laugh and Dane’s smile flash through my brain, and I choke back a sob.
“I’m a fucking idiot. I guess Haley and her romantic ways are rubbing off on me, because I thought you and I were going somewhere. And not to New York,” he adds as he walks toward his truck.
“Dane! Wait!” I call after him.
He holds up a hand to signal he’s done with the conversation. I chase after him anyway, even though I know it’s pointless. I need to let him go and sort this out, but I’m a glutton for punishment.
I catch him right before he makes it to his truck. I grab his bicep, but he shakes me off. “Dane. Wait. Listen to me, please.”
“What?” He spins around, almost knocking me over. “What could you possibly have to say now?”
I catch my breath before making my final request. “Can I tell Mia?”
He laughs long and loud, as if he just heard a great one-liner. Then he glares at me and opens the door to the truck.
“Please,” I beg. “I want to make sure she knows this had nothing to do with her.”
“You know what?” he says, climbing in the cab. “Stay away from my daughter.”
“Dane . . .”
He shakes his head as he starts the ignition. “I’ll tell Mia. I’ll tell her in a way I think won’t break her heart since you obviously don’t give a fuck.”
“You aren’t being fair,” I cry.
He doesn’t respond. Just looks at me with watery eyes before pulling away.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
NEELY
I’m pretty sure my face is swollen. I think I can see the bags under my eyes when I look at an angle. My lips hurt, probably from crying until the sun came up, and my heart is in so many pieces I think they’re scattered across all of Dogwood Lane.
I thought about staying here. I gave it more than a few moments of consideration over the course of the night, mostly when I thought about picking up the phone to call Dane. Every scenario ended with me being unsure about what I could’ve done at the magazine, and I don’t want to ever hold that against anyone.
Throwing my last pair of jeans into my suitcase, I latch it shut. My bag goes on top, balanced perfectly, before I roll it to the door. I don’t leave. Not yet. Instead, I turn around and take in my childhood bedroom, my home for the last couple of weeks. I’m going to miss the warmth of the blankets and the way the sun comes in the windows at a slight angle. That’s not to mention all the little things on the walls, in the drawers, and on the shelves that remind me of being younger. More naive. And probably a lot happier.
I make my way through the house, taking in the pictures and mementos of a life well lived. Leftover pie sits on the stove, and I grin at Claire’s joke.
The sky is overcast as I make my way to the car. Gary and Mom are standing on the driveway, awaiting my arrival. Mom has a handkerchief in her hand, already blotting her eyes.
“Stop it,” I tell her, coming to a stop. I pull her into me and give her the warmest, sturdiest hug I can manage. “I love you. I’ll be back to visit. I promise.”
“This visit was one of the happiest times of my life,” she says. “Having you around, being able to enjoy little things with you, has been a mother’s dream.”
“I’ve had a great time too.” I kiss her cheek before turning to Gary. “And it’s been a pleasure getting to know you.”
“I’m going to pretend you meant that much cheerier than it came out.”
“I know. I’m sorry.” I sigh. “I’m just kind of melancholy today.”
“You have every right to be. It’s hard, sometimes, to make choices in life when it’s not a clear-cut decision. All you can do is make the best choice for you, and I believe you did that. Or, at least, you made the choice that feels the best for you.”
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