Notes of every size and color are pinned, some serious and some not. A napkin stuck to the cork with a nail reads, “Someone tell Denise to get her ass home.” There are three pictures of two football players wearing Legends hats hanging at the top. There’s an advertisement for a wood chipper and a poem with more words I can’t read than words I can.
“Hey.”
I jump at the voice. I don’t turn around though because it’s not Peck. I don’t move because my feet refuse to walk away from him.
“Where’s Peck?” I ask Walker, feeling his energy move around behind me. I close my eyes and breathe in his cologne, tears filling my lids.
“He’s in the truck. Just went out the back door.”
“So this was a plan to get me here?”
“Actually, it wasn’t,” he says. “There was a plan but it involved me coming to your house after Peck made sure you were all right. This is just happenstance.”
Second-guessing everything I think and everything I do, I turn to face him. His eyes have dark rings around them, his clothes the same he wore last night. I refuse to let the tears spill over.
“It’s a pattern, huh?” he chuckles. “You. Me. Crave.”
“Now we have your wife to add to that,” I throw back.
He nods, struggling to stay composed. “Fair enough.”
“There’s nothing fair about it,” I tell him. “You set me up.”
“No, I didn’t. I was going to tell you.”
“When? When did you decide was a good time for me to know the man I was falling in love with was married to someone else?” I realize my slip, but it’s too late. His eyes go wide and he starts to step towards me, but I shake my head. “Don’t.”
“I didn’t tell you because, at first, I didn’t think it mattered. The marriage was a joke and only was intact legally because I didn’t care enough to chase her down for a divorce. You were probably leaving anyway and I figured why get into it?”
“Because it would’ve been nice to know.”
“And I apologize.” His eyes cloud as he runs a hand through his hair. “God, I’m so fucking sorry.”
“You lied to me. I told you everything about me. I contemplated turning down a job with my brother for you,” I say, my face damp despite my best efforts to keep it from happening. “I made decisions that I hoped would give us a chance to figure things out between us and you made decisions that you knew would be worse the longer you waited.”
“I tried to tell you,” he says, watching the tears fall. “Every time I tried, I got scared. Afraid you’d leave. Afraid you’d be pissed or would have your feelings hurt. I thought it would be a hell of a lot easier if I had a signed set of papers in my hand that said it was over. A thing of the past.”
Despite my glare, he stalks across the room and stops in front of me. He searches my face, his own full of the same misery that’s torn apart my soul.
“What are the odds we’d end up back here?” He reaches out and touches my face. My brain screams to pull away, but my heart wins. I lean against his hand, the warmth of his palm caressing my cheek. “Let this be our starting point. Let us try again.”
“Have we ever really tried? Or was that all a lie?”
“Nothing I said to you was a lie. Nothing I insinuated or whispered in your ear while you slept.”
Furrowing a brow, I don’t dare ask.
“Slugger, please . . .”
Standing on my tiptoes, my heart bleeding into my chest, I press a kiss to the side of his face. As if he knows what I’m saying, he closes his eyes and drops his hand from my face.
“I need to go,” I whisper turning to the door.
“Sienna, wait . . .”
“I’ve given you a second,” I smile sadly. “I don’t know what else you could want at this point.”
He calls out after me, but I swing the door open and run across the road. The rain drizzles on my head as I climb into the cab of Peck’s truck.
“Go.”
Without a word, Peck steps on the accelerator and starts down the street. Only when we’re ready to turn off do I look back to see Walker standing in the middle of the road again, his head bowed to the asphalt, the rain creating a foggy haze around him.
WE DON’T EXCHANGE A word as Peck drives me home. I want to ask if he went there on purpose, but I’m pretty certain I know the answer and I can’t blame him. If I were in his position, I’d have tried it too.
The truck slides into the driveway of my little rental and he jams it in park. “Don’t be mad at me,” he says.