“Lanette, could you give us a minute?” he asked.

Clearly hoping to witness some drama, Lanette’s face fell. She put her purse over her shoulder. “I guess I’ll take lunch now. I’ll be in the break room.”

When we were alone, Griffin cleared his throat and spoke quietly. “Your car is ready. It’s in the lot. Keys are on the front seat.”

“That’s what Lanette said. I don’t understand.”

“The parts came in yesterday.”

It still didn’t make sense. “But when did you do the work?”

“Last night. I couldn’t sleep, so I came down here and got it done.”

“You worked all through the night?” That explained the bloodshot eyes. On closer inspection I saw the dark circles too. The sallow complexion.

He shrugged. “I figured you’d want the option to leave as soon as possible.”

The crazy thing was, I didn’t. I wanted to fly at him, beat on his chest, fight back, force him to admit I’d meant something to him. I wanted to try again to convince him that what we had was worth a shot.

But I was too afraid of being rejected again. Realistically, he’d probably worked through the night to get rid of me as quickly as he could.

“What do I owe you for the repairs?” I asked.

“Nothing.”

“Griffin, please. Tell me what I owe you.”

He shook his head, folding his arms over his chest. “You don’t owe me anything, Blair.”

My lower lip trembled. When he said my name softly like that, I felt like I couldn’t breathe.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice cracking.

I pushed my sunglasses up on my head. “I’m not pregnant.”

He looked relieved. “Are you sure? Already?”

“I’m sure.”

“Well . . . that’s good.”

“Yes. But to answer your question, no. I’m not okay.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, moving close enough that I could smell the motor oil on him. “I wish things could be different.”

“Me too.” I laughed, but it wasn’t funny. “I wish so many things. Mostly, I wish the man I thought you were really existed.”

“He does,” Griffin said, his eyes full of torment. “He just can’t give you what you want.”

“I feel like I must have imagined everything,” I said, tears filling my eyes. “Imagined that you cared about me.”

“You didn’t imagine it.”

I shook my head. “Why should I believe anything you say?”

“Because it’s the truth.” He took me by the shoulders. “I’m sorry about what I said last night. It wasn’t just sex, okay? It was a lot more than that, but you have to go now.”

“Why?” I said, tears splashing down my cheeks. “If you feel something for me, why are you sending me away?”

“Goddammit, Blair.” He crushed his mouth to mine, and in his kiss I felt desperation and agony, a heartbreak that rivaled my own. He broke it off abruptly. “You have to go,” he repeated, breathing hard. “I made a mistake keeping you here so long.”

“What do you mean, keeping me here?”

“Nothing.” He stepped back from me. “Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

“I don’t understand you, Griffin. If it’s so hard to say goodbye, why do it at all? Why can’t we give this a chance?”

“Because we just can’t!” he yelled. “We’re not the same, okay? We’re too different. From different worlds. It never would have worked. I’m doing you a favor.”

“That’s bullshit. I left my superficial world behind looking for someplace better. Someplace real. Someplace that would welcome me with open arms and make me feel like I belonged. Someplace that made me feel loved.”

He clenched his jaw. “I hope you find it.” Then he shouldered past me and pulled the door open.

What choice did I have?

He was holding the door open for me to leave.

He was holding the door open for me to leave, because he’d had his heart broken in the past. Because he’d spent years building up this emotional armor. Because he wanted to hide behind his rules and his solitude and call it freedom.

I knew he had feelings for me. I knew not all of what we’d shared had been a lie. I knew, if he begged me right now to stay here in this town and take a chance on him, I’d say yes.

But he didn’t.

He was holding the door open for me to leave, and there was nothing left for me to do but walk through it.

Nineteen

Griffin

She walked out.

Like I had known she would since the night I met her. Like she was supposed to. Like I wanted her to. So why the sight of her leaving made my chest feel like it was caving in, I had no idea.

I’m not sure how long I’d been standing there wanting to put my fist through all the walls we’d just painted together when Lanette snuck back into the room.

“Wow,” she said, her eyes wide. “That was intense. Sorry, I couldn’t help overhearing.”

Which meant the news of our farewell fight would be all over town by dinnertime.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“I’m fine.”

I stormed back into the garage and stared under the hood of some vehicle without even registering what it was or what I was supposed to be doing. Five minutes after I’d been frozen there like a statue, Handme said, “Hey. Isn’t that Blair going by? She’s carrying a suitcase. Is she leaving now?”

“Yes,” I said, refusing to look out the open bay doors. She’d been wearing that short yellow dress with the flowers that she’d had on the very first day she worked the desk. I loved her in that dress. I loved her in anything. I couldn’t believe I would never see her again. Touch her again. Kiss her again.

“Well, should we go say goodbye?”

“Handme, don’t you fucking dare.”

I tried to work, but my head was a mess. I was exhausted, miserable, angry, resentful, and suffocating with guilt. I had hurt her. I had wrecked something good. I was supposed to feel better now that she was gone, more in control, but I didn’t. I felt like I was completely losing my shit.

I took it out on the people around me, of course. I lost my temper with Handme for not folding the towels the way I wanted them. I screamed at McIntyre for an invoicing mistake I’d made a hundred times. I hung up on my mother after she called me demanding to know why she’d heard from at least two people that Blair had suddenly quit working for me and left town. And I was grumpy with Lanette when she came into the garage with a file folder in her hands.

“Hey, have you seen all this?” she asked. “It’s really impressive. Blair did a ton of work.”

“Yes, I’ve seen it,” I snapped. “But I’m too busy to take it over. Give it to my mom or Cheyenne.”

“Everything is pretty much organized. Someone just needs to be on site coordinating. I can handle that.”

“Fine.”

“Although I can’t bake like she does. So we’ll have to either scratch the sweets table or see if Louise from the diner can do it.”