The optimism that had been in her heart this morning slipped away, leaving her numb. “You’re an asshole.”
Riley followed her to the front door. She let the dog out with her and took small satisfaction in childishly slamming the door behind her.
Hunter slowly turned his head to stare at the door after Sylvie left, the cottage rattling with the slamming of the door. The ache in his chest burned like acid eating through him. Telling himself it was for the best didn’t stop the pain. He had to let her go, make her go, so she could find a man who would be able to love her the way she deserved.
He lost himself in the words. They were all he had now. His hand was on fire, his fingers cramping until he knew it was no use to put the pen to paper any longer. Still, he stayed inside and filled a few more pages.
Gradually, the noises from outside the cottage began to infiltrate his concentration. Stomping footsteps. Doors banging. Cottage doors. Car doors? He groaned as he pushed out of the chair he’d been sitting in for too long. He pulled up the blinds and saw Sylvie stowing a suitcase in the trunk of her car.
He lumbered out the back door to the parking area. “What are you doing?”
She whirled around and crossed her arms defensively. “I’m leaving.”
“Wait.” What day was it? “It’s Friday, isn’t it? I thought you were staying until Monday morning too.”
Her wide eyes looked haunted. Hurt. “Yeah, well, I’m ready to go home.”
He shouldn’t have been surprised after the way he’d treated her. He should be relieved. Still… “You’re not leaving now.”
“The car’s packed and my folks are waiting for me. I’m going.”
He took a couple of steps toward her. “Not now you’re not.”
She lifted her chin and didn’t retreat. “Yeah. I am.”
He growled, the dark rumble coming from deep inside where his pain and loss resided. “It’s six o’clock at night. You’re not getting in that car and driving anywhere, much less South Carolina.”
Her eyes blazed. “I’m fine.” Her hands dropped to her sides and curled into fists.
His hands began to shake he was so angry at her cavalier attitude. “Sylvie, I swear I’ll lock you up in my cottage if you try to leave now.” He grabbed her arm. She started to struggle and he tightened his grip. “Don’t do something stupid just because you’re pissed at me.”
“Now you’re calling me stupid?”
“Don’t you get it? It’s late. You’re tired. You’re upset. You’re an accident waiting to happen.”
She frowned, confusion and annoyance clear in her expression. Then she sighed and her gaze softened. “Okay. Okay. I’m sorry. I didn’t think. I get it now. It’s how you lost Jenny.”
“I’ve distracted you.”
“No.”
“Yes. You don’t need all my shit on your mind when you have to concentrate on driving.” He’d never forgive himself if something happened to her. He dropped her arm and she rubbed the spot where his fingers had dug in. He hadn’t meant to hurt her. Hated to hurt her, but he refused to feel sorry for it. He’d do anything to keep her safe.
They stood there awkwardly for a moment, staring at each other.
“I’ll leave first thing in the morning,” she announced as if she was waiting for him to argue about that too. “I’ll be okay.”
He nodded. “You decided to move in with your parents?”
“For now. They have a big house with a lot of land. I’ll look for a job. Then I’ll find a place of my own.”
“Listen.” He hated this even though he knew it was going to happen. “If you need some help, you know, until you get a job and some money coming in…”
She took a step back. “Thanks, but I’ll be fine.”
He had no doubt she’d be just fine. “How about one last walk?” he asked, although he hadn’t planned to until that moment.
“You mean you have time? You don’t need to get back to your writing and make your hand cramp up some more?”
“Don’t.” He knew he deserved the snide comment, but he hoped they could part on a better note. It wasn’t her fault he couldn’t love her. “I have time.” He looked around and saw Riley curled up in the shadow of the cottage. “Riley? Walk?”
Riley jumped up with an eager bark. They both laughed uneasily.
“Okay,” she said.
He liked to think the silence wasn’t quite as awkward as it felt to him. They walked barefoot on the sand, side by side, but they no longer held hands. Sylvie waved to some of the people they saw every day. Riley lunged in the surf and chased the gulls and they stopped to watch for a while.
“I had a great time these past few weeks,” she said softly, her gaze out over the water.
“Me too.” He didn’t look at the rolling waves, but at the amazing woman beside him. Her gold-shot curls lifted by the breeze. The sprinkle of freckles across her nose. How long before he wouldn’t be able to remember what she looked like?
“Are you going back to New York?” she asked.
He tore his gaze from her. What the hell was he doing, trying to memorize her features? “Yeah. I’ve got my place there. Computer’s there. I’ll get this book done and then decide if I want to make any changes after that.”
“I expect an advance copy at the very least,” she said with a shaky grin.
Damn, he was going to miss her. “You got it.” He started to pull his cell out of the pocket of his shorts to make note of her address, then stopped. “Wait. Fletcher knows where you’re going, right?” Hunter didn’t need to know where she would be living.
“Yeah.” They hadn’t reached their usual turning spot, but she turned and started to head back the way they came. “Riley. Come on.”
The dog came flying down the sand, tongue hanging, tail wagging. Sylvie laughed and bent down to give Riley a hug. And Hunter knew what he had to do.
He cleared his throat. “I know I don’t have the right to ask, but would you do me a favor?”
She tilted her face to him in that way he’d come to love. “What?”
“I want you to take Riley.”
Sylvie froze, eyes wide. “No. I can’t. He’s your dog.”
“He doesn’t belong in a New York City apartment. You said your parents have a lot of land. He could run like he was meant to do. And he loves you.” He crouched down and scratched behind Riley’s ears so he wouldn’t have to look at her. “You said you always wanted a dog. Would you mind taking him? Would they mind if you brought him home with you?”
“No. Of course not.” Now she took his hand, and he clutched it for a moment before he let her go. “But, Hunter, are you sure?”
He shrugged away the ache in his chest. “Yeah. I hate dogs, remember?”
She was not going to cry.
Sylvie stood on the deck and took one last look around. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky. The roar of the surf still touched something deep inside her, but she needed to get away. Away from the beach. Away from the man who wasn’t ready to love her yet.
Maybe he’d never be ready.
But he did love her. She was certain of it. He just needed time to accept it. Time to let himself love again.
He’d held her, made love with her, danced with her, encouraged her. He cared for her so much he refused to let her drive when he knew she was upset. He kept her safe even as he pushed her away.
And so she’d give him some time. But not forever. She wasn’t going to put her life on hold for another man. Not even Hunter.
The GPS was programmed. The trunk packed with all her stuff. There was plenty of room in the backseat for Riley, and while she hated taking him from Hunter, she was glad she’d have the dog with her. Something she got from Hunter even if he couldn’t give her his heart.
Hunter had been watching from the cottage, but he step
ped out now. “Can I see your phone?”
She frowned but grabbed her purse and pulled it out.
He climbed over the railing and held out his hand. She gave it to him. “I’m putting in my number. I want you to text me when you get home.”
She let herself smile. “Worried about me?”
“I’ll feel better knowing you got there safe.”
“Okay.” He handed her back her phone, and she shoved it in her pocket. She knew he cared about her. Knew he’d come a long way from the bitter man he’d been a few weeks ago. She reached up to cup his face. “You’re a good man.” She brushed her lips lightly over his. “I’ll miss you.”
He gathered her close for a brief moment, then let her go. “Don’t miss me.” He stepped back. “Bye, Sylvie.”
Tears prickled her eyes but she lifted her chin and stared him down. “I’m not going to wait forever, you know.”
“I’m not asking you to wait at all.”
“You’re not responsible for Jenny’s accident, you jerk,” she ground out through gritted teeth. How long would it take for him to accept that? “You don’t have to play the martyr.”
He didn’t rise to the bait, his mask firmly in place. “Drive carefully.”
So this was it. Sylvie nodded sharply. “I will.”
Riley barked, his head out the back window. Hunter reached out as if to scratch his head, then pulled back his hand. “Got to get back to work.” He turned and walked away without a backward glance.
As soon as Sylvie pulled away, Hunter popped the top on a beer and threw himself down into the deck chair. It was a perfect morning. Blue sky. Rolling waves. No annoying mutt. No nosy neighbor.
The writing was going great. Yeah, Quinn and Olivia were on the outs. She was on leave after the kidnapping. She’d threatened to quit the force. Maybe she’d be reassigned to another partner. Quinn didn’t need her, he didn’t need anyone. But he felt her absence. Worried about her. Thought about her when he should have been working the case. Hunter knew the murderer and his gang would use that weakness against Quinn at the end of the book.
The beer tasted like shit. Hunter tossed it in the trash. He had to get his mind off Sylvie, all alone behind the wheel, with all the crazy drivers out there. Time for a run and then he’d get back to work. He had to keep busy.
Running the beach didn’t feel the same without Riley bounding beside him, having the time of his life. Hunter found himself waving back to the people Sylvie had been talking to before he caught himself. What the hell?
He pushed harder. Ran faster. Pounded the sand. Ignored everyone and everything around him. He was gasping for breath by the time he got back to the cottage. He collapsed onto the sand. He was out of shape from all the fucking walking he’d been doing the past few weeks.
Once his heart no longer felt as if it were beating out of his chest, he climbed the steps, grabbed his notebook and pen and a bottle of water. He stretched on the chaise and prepared to let the rest of the world disappear while he lost himself in the world of his own making.
Hunter didn’t know how long he’d been writing before his hand cramped so badly he dropped the pen. It rolled across the deck floor and tumbled over the side. His stomach growled. It was time for a break anyway.
He was staring at the empty fridge when his phone chimed a text notification. His heart raced. Could Sylvie have reached her destination already? He glanced at the clock on the microwave as he dug the cell out of his pocket and discovered how late it was.
Made it.
Attached to the two-word text was a picture of Riley sitting on a white wraparound porch connected to a large yellow house with black shutters. Branches from tall shade trees framed the picture. Relief flowed through him, more intense than he expected. Sylvie was where she should be. She’d made it there safely.
Trip went smoothly? he texted back, his fingers trembling.
Yes. Almost forgot, there’s still food in my fridge. Help yourself.
Thanks.
Take care of yourself.
There was no answer for that so Hunter shoved the cell back in his pocket and stepped out onto the deck. Families gathered in groups on the beach around him, laughter rising in the air. Kids and dogs ran through the surf. Hunter stood alone at the railing. Watching from a distance.
Only when his stomach reminded him that he was starving did he grab the key Sylvie had left him for her cottage and went to raid the fridge.
Chapter Eight
Sylvie had forgotten how much she enjoyed lazy Sunday afternoons at home. Riley already loved it here. She took him through the trees to the creek behind the house. He dashed into the water, barking like a fool. Sitting on the bank, watching him play, Sylvie smiled when nothing up to that point had lifted her lips.
She took a picture and texted it to Hunter. No words. She couldn’t think of anything that didn’t sound clingy or needy.
Her parents were being great about this. They’d been so supportive. She knew she could stay with them as long as she wanted, but after being around the world and back and on her own for years, she didn’t want to stay with her folks for long.
No response to the text. “What do you suppose Hunter’s doing now?” she asked Riley. At her words, the dog bounded out of the creek and dashed over to her. She put her arms around his neck, didn’t mind getting wet at all. “Maybe he’s running the beach. Think so, boy? Maybe he’s all wet too.”
Or maybe he was hunched over his notebook, ignoring everything but the book. Riley curled up beside her with his head in her lap. “I hope he sleeps tonight. He’s leaving in the morning.” She stroked Riley’s soft fur. “I hope he’s not going to try to drive straight through. All by himself? He wouldn’t do that, would he?”
Riley looked up at her and whined. “I know. He hasn’t been sleeping well. He’s probably not eating right. What is he going to do without the two of us there to look after him?”
She had to stop worrying about him. Had to plan a future that didn’t include him. Had to accept the fact that he might never be able to open up his heart to her.
She might never see him again.
Safe trip.
Hunter was already out of Florida and halfway through Georgia when Sylvie’s text popped up Monday morning. Yeah, he knew he shouldn’t be looking at his phone, but he couldn’t resist, knowing it was probably from Sylvie.
He’d tossed and turned most of the night and finally threw his crap in the car and took off before sunrise. He’d found the shirt of his that Sylvie had worn rumpled in the corner of the bedroom and had decided to wear it. He inhaled deeply as he passed a slow RV and was rewarded with her lingering scent.
I-95 got busier as the morning went on and though he was tempted, he didn’t pick up his cell when he heard a couple more text alerts. With no woman and no dog travelling with him, Hunter kept sailing up the interstate. No stopping a million times for pee breaks. No distracting conversations or arguments. Although wondering what her texts said was more distracting than it should have been.
His stomach was starting to complain as he drove through South Carolina. Maybe it was time to stop for a break of his own. Grab some lunch. Stretch his legs. Spend time in the state where Sylvie was.
And that had to be the stupidest thing to ever pop into his head. He could make it into North Carolina before he stopped.
He still hadn’t decided if he’d drive straight through to New York. He hated wasting any more time on the trip than he had to. If he wasn’t going to be able to sleep anyway, why waste the time and money on a hotel room?
Hunter’s stomach growled and his bladder began to complain. He glanced at the big green sign announcing the next exit.
Florence.
His heart pounded. He had the perfect excuse to pull off at the next exit. That didn’t mean anything except that he needed some food and a restroom. Al
l Sylvie had said was that her parents lived outside Florence. They could be anywhere. He didn’t even know her maiden name.
But knowing she was so close would be even worse. Hunter flew by the Florence exit and suffered until he’d left South Carolina behind. When he finally stopped at a fast food joint, he hit the restroom, got his burger and only then did he check his texts.
Cross your fingers for me. I have a job interview at 1.
Already? Attached was a picture of her crossed fingers. Pale pink polish covered her nails. Hunter checked the time and found it was almost one o’clock. He crossed his fingers, then felt completely foolish.
You better not be reading this while you’re driving. Wait for a break.
Attached was a picture of Riley sitting by her car in the driveway, a quaint mailbox to the side.
You better be taking breaks on the road! Don’t be an accident waiting to happen.
Attached was a picture of Riley curled up on the front porch by a white rocking chair.
Hunter almost sent her a text back, letting her know he was taking a break right now. To let her know he wished her luck on the interview. That he was thinking about her.
She didn’t need to know that. Especially since she’d be gearing up for the interview. Especially since she was supposed to get over him. Get on with her life without him.
He took a bite of tasteless burger. Nothing like the juicy, flavorful ones Sylvie had made for him. He winced and rolled his shoulders. They were killing him. He was so tense from being behind the wheel so long. He wished Sylvie were there to give him a shoulder rub.
No, it had been Jenny who used to rub his shoulders at the end of a writing marathon.
She had been right to complain about his writing binges. He always lost himself in the fictional world he created and he’d liked it that way. He had used it as a way to avoid his wife’s demanding moods. To avoid confrontation. To control a tiny bit of his life.
He’d started to do the same thing with Sylvie. Hiding behind his writing. Avoiding his feelings by diving into the story. No wonder she left early. No wonder she’d left him.
The Cottage Next Door Page 9
