Tangle (Dogwood Lane 2)

“It’s for her own good,” I argue.

Her eyes flip to mine. “That’s the weakest argument you could make.”

“It’s true.”

“And why is it in her best interest for you to walk away? Does she love you?”

I shrug.

“Do you love her?”

I don’t answer.

“I fed Geoff, nursed him when he was sick, held his hand on his deathbed even though the man ended our marriage and hurt me in a way I’ll never be able to explain if we sit here for the next hundred years. Want to know why?”

“Why?” I say, my voice hoarse.

“Because love doesn’t end. Because that piece of paper that says we were no longer married didn’t climb inside me and cut the line from my heart to his.”

I hang my head again.

The piece of paper in the form of a napkin that Haley and I signed didn’t keep me from hurting her either. Maybe I’m as bad as Geoff.

I flinch as stomach bile threatens to come up my throat.

The weight of the world presses on my shoulders, and I think I hear the wood crack in the chair from all the pressure. Maybe it was my heart cracking instead.

Lorene scoots to the edge of her rocker and sets her project on the coffee table. “If you’re running from love, Trevor, you better stop while you can and go back and get it. Because I’m telling you the truth when I say you can’t outrun it.”

The wind vanishes from my sails. I sag against the chair. “What if I change my mind?”

“Then you do.” She laughs. “Geoff changed his and I survived.” She reaches across the space between us and takes my hand in hers. There are brown marks marring her papery skin, her veins bright blue. “You’re a bit of a pistol, you know that?”

I grin.

“If a woman is going to be around you long enough to fall in love with you, she’s going to be strong enough to let you go if that’s what you want.”

“But what if—”

“What if the inn burns to the ground tonight while I’m asleep in it?”

“All right, Lorene. There are lines you don’t cross.” I shake my head, my frustration growing.

She shrugs, not giving a second thought to my comment. “Well, you can what-if yourself to death. Keep it up, and you’ll find yourself on your deathbed someday, wondering what-if, and you’ll be out of time. A hundred years goes by like the blink of an eye.”

My heart is heavy as I get to my feet. It already feels like a lifetime since the conversation with Haley, when in reality it probably hasn’t been an hour.

I kiss Lorene’s hand and then her cheek, and watch her eyes swell with tears. I fight a tug in my chest as she pats my hand.

“Thank you, Lorene,” I say. “Thank you for your hospitality. I appreciate it more than you’ll ever know.”

“You’re welcome,” she says through unshed tears. “If you ever need a place to stay, you find me. Even if it’s coon-hunting season.”

I shake her hand, the lump in my throat preventing any words from coming out. She nods, understanding, as I place her palm on her lap.

“Goodbye,” I say.

“Goodbye, honey.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

TREVOR

I’m almost to the end of the driveway when a familiar truck pulls in beside me. The window rolls down, and it’s Dane staring back at me.

The look he’s giving me rips at my pride. I might as well be the dirt under his boots right now.

“Great,” I mumble. I hit the button and feel the wind fill the cab. “Hey, Dane.”

“Trevor.” He works his tongue around his cheek, as if he’s trying to decide whether to give me the speech he’s rehearsed or just rip into me off the cuff. “Are you heading out?”

“Yeah. I need to get back to the office.”

He taps a beat on his steering wheel, gazing off into the distance. He brings his hand to his mouth and runs it along his jaw as I squirm in anticipation of what’s next.

“You aren’t the guy I thought you were.”

I flinch. “What did you say?”

“I have a really good ability to pick out bad people. It’s one of the few good things I got from my father. But I’ll tell you, you had me fooled.”

“Dane . . . ,” I stammer.

“You fucked with Haley.”

“I didn’t. Not like you think.”

He grins. It’s not a gesture of friendliness or an invitation to set the record straight. It’s a warning, pure and simple. A warning I read loud and clear.

“Here’s the deal,” he says. “I don’t give a flying fuck if you did it like ‘I think’ or not. All I know is I watched you chase her, and now I’m watching you walk away.”

I sigh, looking at the road ahead and wishing I’d left a few minutes before. I don’t need this guilt trip. I’m tripping enough on my own.