Chapter 4

4

DANIKA

H e hates me, and to be fair, I understand. The fact that he saved me from staying outdoors and possibly losing my way in the darkness, clothed me, fed me, and gave me a temporary roof over my head should be enough.

Matthew has already gone the extra mile for me, especially after everything.

The dinner was one of the best I've had in a long, long time. The steak was surprisingly good, which was a big deal since the last time Matt and I saw each other, he almost burned down my dad's kitchen while cooking spaghetti and meatballs.

But more than that, it was his company.

God, I terribly missed him. I missed hanging out with him, talking to him, touching him. He wasn't just my boyfriend. He was also my confidante and the first person I wanted to share any news with.

He could read me easily. I could tell him one thing, and he'd see through the lies and half-truths. That was why I did what I did—a note and nothing else.

And in the process, I didn't just lose my fiancé, I lost my best friend too. I hurt him so badly, and I don't know how to make up for it. I don't know if he can ever forgive me fully. I don't even know how he'll react if he finds out I'm moving back to Sweetheart Falls and not just visiting.

God, I hope the rain lets up soon, so I can leave him in peace.

It gets worse before it gets better.

That's what people always say, right? The next morning, the storm intensifies. Any hope of me going down on foot and heading to Dad's house crumbles. I have no choice but to stay here for another day or so.

Good thing Matthew's mood seems to have improved. It's better than last night, at least.

Our truce is back, and we sit on his porch, drinking coffee and listening to the rain pounding on the roof. I can barely make out the woods through the sheets of rain. The trees sway violently, their branches thrashing. A flash of lightning lights up the sky, which is followed almost immediately by a crack of thunder that makes me jump in my seat.

I pull my knees to my chest and grab the cup beside me, wincing at the way it scalds my mouth but welcoming the distraction. I ache to brush my fingers across his skin or run my fingers through his hair.

Matt is on the other side, sitting with his legs crossed at the ankles. I envy how relaxed he looks, and I pretend I'm looking at our surroundings, but really, I'm stealthily checking him out. He's so much bigger than last time, rougher around the edges, and too sexy for his own good. All my lady parts tingle with excitement at the mere thought of being around him.

Goldie is scared of the thunder, but she prefers our company because she snuggles beside me and closes her eyes.

"Why did you really name her Goldie?" I ask, casting a sideways glance at him and breaking the silence.

"We can't have three Goldie Hawns?"

"Ha! So, she really is Goldie Hawn? You said it was because she's a golden retriever." I turn at the waist to look at him, but he continues to stare straight ahead.

"That too."

"You named her after my goldfish. Why, Matt?"

A muscle ticks in his jaw, and he lifts his mug to his mouth. "The same reason why I'm letting you stay here. I have no idea."

Electricity zaps through the air at his admission. This is it. This is my cue to say sorry. I've wanted to, but I'm a coward through and through. I don't know what else that says about me. I had the audacity to leave but not to own up to my actions.

"Matt, I never really apologized for what happened. At least not face-to-face. I'm a coward and a bitch, and you did not deserve any of it."

Except for the tightening of his hand on the mug, he gives no other indication that we still haven't addressed the elephant in the room. The unspoken questions float between us, and I ignore the impulse to shut up, not explain, and leave when it's convenient to avoid confrontations. That's what I did the last time. Not anymore.

It's clear we're both still struggling with our past. Again, my fault entirely.

I look away too because I need all the courage I can get, and looking at him will only pull me back to those moments when I could practically hear my heart breaking. "I need you to understand it wasn't about you, Matt."

Matt still doesn't say anything, but he's never been the type to speak when his emotions are all over the place. He prefers to open his mouth when he knows he's got them under control.

I clear my throat and stare inside my mug as if I can find any strength there. "I left because…"

"Because you wanted to follow your dream and I was in the way because of the proposal. Yeah, I know."

I whirl around to face him so fast, Goldie jumps out from beside me and pads to Matt. "You do?"

He shakes his head slowly. "Not then, I didn't. I was furious at you, not just because you ran away but because you didn't tell me anything. That was a big deal to me. We always talked, Dan." Matt meets my gaze, and the hurt in his eyes slams into me with crushing force. "We talked about everything."

Tears sting the backs of my eyes. "I messed up, Matt. Can we do fifteen minutes of pure honesty where we don't judge each other for what we felt and did back then? This load is getting way too heavy for me to carry, I feel like I'm wading through quicksand."

It takes him a few seconds, but he eventually nods. "Let's do that."

Dragging air into my lungs, I close my eyes and remember the worst days of my life—deciding to leave and actually going through with it. "You were right about me wanting to follow my dreams. Everyone believed I'd grow up to be this amazing artist, and I thought Sweetheart Falls just wasn't the place to grow and learn. It didn't offer enough opportunities. You proposed at graduation, and the whole town was there. I felt trapped and scared."

I stand and drag the chair across from him, still carrying my mug, so we're facing each other. "I didn't want to say yes. Not because I didn't love you, but I really, really wanted to see if I could make it. We'd been together for so long, and I relied on you for so many things, but … I wanted to be independent for once. I had to at least try."

"I get that," he says softly.

"My biggest regret wasn't leaving but not talking to you face to face. I know you would have supported me, but it drove me crazy how everyone I met after the proposal wanted to know which house we'd live in, what wedding dress I'd like, if I'd like a baby right away, how many kids we'd have." I moisten my lips and look at a point above his shoulder. "We were both eighteen, Matt. Kids were the furthest thing from my mind because I still felt like a kid myself. Even so, that's no excuse for what I did to you. It was selfish of me."

Matt leans forward and props his elbows on his knees. "You weren't selfish, Dan. I was. I was so obsessed with you that I didn't stop to think if marriage was what you wanted straight out of high school. In hindsight, maybe part of me wanted to trap you because you often talked about the city and the galleries and all that stuff."

"Matt…"

"I was scared of you leaving and finding someone better than me. I was just a boy from a small town. I had nothing against those city boys."

"I never liked city boys," I say quietly. "I met dozens of them, and let me tell you, none of those boys could hold a candle to you."

It's true. I met enough boys and men to know that Matt was miles above them. In looks, in attitude, in everything. This ruggedly handsome mountain man is so much more than all of the others combined.

"How many boyfriends have you had there? You have one now? Will someone try to break my door in the middle of the night?" He tries to play it off as a joke, but I know Matt as well as he knows me. My answer matters to him. It's there with the way he seems to hold his breath.

"I never had one, Matt. You've always been my only boyfriend."

"Why? Didn't fancy preppy boys?"

I smile sheepishly, swirl my mug, and finish it in three gulps. "I was there for my career. A career that never went anywhere. I had no time for dating. Besides, how could I? You were my standard. No one could live up to that."

We've been so focused on our conversation that we don't notice the pounding turning into a steady, gentle patter.

My stomach drops away at the way he gazes at me, and it takes every ounce of my willpower to ignore the sweet ache between my thighs. It's been too long.

He always looked at me like I was the only girl in the world. He does that now, and a wave of tenderness washes over me. It's frightening but also … freeing.

"I'll take your mug inside," he says abruptly and stands to grab it.

His hand wraps around mine, and my body turns to liquid against his warmth and the heat between us. He studies me and hungrily devours every detail, as if he's trying to commit all of these to memory.

Fighting to find my breath, I ignore my core clenching, but when his thumb grazes my knuckles, I lose the battle. He pins me with a look, something hot and familiar coiling low in my belly. Wet heat blooms between my thighs, and I can't help letting out a stuttering breath.

Naked hunger flares in his eyes, his uncanny ability to be so attuned to my moods in full display.

"Is there someone else for you, Matt? Was there?"

"No." His voice drops an octave, and time slows to a crawl. "There's no one but you. Only you."