Chapter 13

THIRTEEN

Ava

I don't know what time it is. Early. The little bit of light streaking through the window of Ranger's trailer is still the blueish–gray of early morning. And he's not in the bed beside me. But then I know he's busy. I know today's the day. It's probably the last time I'll see him. It's certainly the last time I'll see him like this.

I don't have it in me to let him just drop in and out of my life. Any other man? Maybe. But not him. With him it's different. I'm different. And I'm smart enough and, god help me, self-aware enough to know that. Maybe it's not love, not yet, but that's where it's headed and that's one fall I don't mean to make solo.

It's not a breakup. Because we're not together. Not formally. We're just two people who have a strong connection but very different goals. And there's nothing wrong with that. He's not the bad guy because he doesn't want to stay and I'm not a villain because I wish he would. But pride is something that I have in an unfortunate quantity and I vow to myself, as I get out of that bed and try to find my discarded panties, that I will not let it get weird. Or sad. No tears. Because my pride can't take it and because he doesn't deserve the guilt he'd feel over them.

I'm at least half dressed before the bedroom door opens again. He's standing there with two cups of coffee. "Good morning."

"Good morning to you. Are one of those for me or are you double fisting caffeine after your very late night?" I tease.

He passes me the cup. "You wanna get breakfast before I head out?"

It's tempting. Too tempting. The thought of even another five minutes with him pulls at me. And that's why it's so important to stick to the plan. "No. I hate long goodbyes. There always awkward … But I have to tell you, Ranger, my whole life I swore nothing good ever came out of a trip to the laundromat. You've proven me wrong. Thank you for that."

He frowns. "You talk like we're never going to see each other again. I still have ties to Bellehaven. I'll still be here."

"From time to time," I point out. "We started this because it was hot and fun. Because we liked each other. Long distance or off an on—that's just not a thing that's ever good for anybody. You're a wanderer by nature and I like my very settled, very dull and very much stationery condo. I think we both need to admit that we've reached the natural conclusion. Don't you?"

He looks stunned. Poleaxed, honestly. And I feel bad instantly. Maybe I was too flippant about it all. Maybe he's a little more conflicted about just walking away than I thought. But he never said, and I can't assume.

After a minute he nods. "You're probably right. No regrets, Ava. Not a single one. More fun than I've had in this town in a hell of a long time."

I step closer to him, wrap my arms around him for just a minute and press a kiss to his cheek. "Be safe." And then I do the hardest thing I have ever done in my life. Harder than cutting ties with my narcissistic father and very codependent mother. Harder than putting myself through college and living on ramen for years because it was all I could afford. I just walk away, head held high and trying not to let my heart shatter right there in front of him.

By the time I walk back into my house, the tears are flowing freely. And I can hear the engine of his truck turning over and then the sound of the engine fading as it rolls down the street.

I fucked this up so bad. So damn bad. And I've got no one to blame but myself. But knowing that doesn't make it any easier.

I get through the next two days at work, but I'm like a robot. Going through the motions. I'm not doing a damn thing for my clients or myself by being there. And on Friday afternoon, Gretchen calls me on my shit.

"Ava, WTF?"

"I've just got a lot on my mind," I tell her. "I'll be better on Monday."

"You will not be here on Monday. You still have more PTO than any three other employees combined. PTO that does not roll over and that anything in excess of eighty hours just vanishes. It's not possible for you to take all of it, but I'll be damned before I let you just waste it all. Take the week. The whole damn week, do you hear me?"

"My clients?—"

"Will be handled. You've covered for everyone else often enough. They can damn well cover for you."

"I may be in love with you," I tell her.

"Don't let Barb hear you say that. She's jealous and has a mean streak," she says, referring to her tiny little wife who is probably the sweetest person to have ever walked the earth.

"Yeah, right."

"Go home, Ava. Get your notes from today in and go the fuck home. I don't want to see you until you come back here in a week with a tan and dry eyes. And whoever the asshole is, I hope he's as miserable as you've been."

Maybe some time off will be good for me. There's a pool in the condo complex that I haven't used nearly enough. And there are some home improvement projects that I've been meaning to get to and just haven't found the time. The prospect of getting my hands dirty and alternately lounging by the pool is way more appealing than it ought to be.

With renewed energy, I dig back into my stack of paperwork. When I get the last line of the last case note typed in, I breathe a sigh of relief.

I pack up my laptop. Time off or no, I'll still be checking in. Can't help it. With all my stuff crammed into my tote, I head down the steps and out the door to my car which cost way too damn much to fix. I'm halfway across the lot before I notice the very familiar Land Rover parked directly beside it. It's too late to turn around. He knows I've seen him.

"Fuck. My. Life."

Billy McGill steps out of his over-the-top expensive vehicle and gives me that same snake‐oil smile as before.

"Hey, pretty lady," he says. "Looks like I got here just in time."

"Just in time for what?"

"To take you to dinner, darling. Little birdy told me your free bird has flown the coop." He leans back against the SUV and crosses his arms, looking smug and very satisfied with himself. "I warned you about him. Told you he wasn't the type to stick."

"Ain't that the way of it?" I say, with a not so friendly smile. And then I follow it up with an "I am definitely tired of your shit" comeback. "You can't keep the ones you want and can't shake the ones you wish you could get rid of."

All pretense of amiability just falls from him. Like a snake shedding skin. "A girl big as you, Ava, ought to be nicer. Show some appreciation for a man who's willing to look past that."

"I'd tell you to kiss my fat ass, but apparently that's pretty high on your list of goals right now. I'm sure you'd enjoy it more than I would, anyway. So here's a novel approach for you, Mr. McGill … If you don't like my attitude, then stay the hell away. I can promise you it won't change anytime soon. Or ever."

He smiles again, but this time it's just cold and mean. "Did Ranger tell you about his clients in West Virginia? The ones that pay him extra? Her name is Whitney Foxworth. Of Foxworth Farms. Of a shit ton of money and a husband who probably won't even get it up when rigor mortis sets in. She's real fond of Ranger. Real fond. You think about that while you're home alone tonight." Then he gets in his too expensive toy and peels out of the parking lot like some teenager having a tantrum.

God, I hate that fucker.