Powerless (Chestnut Springs, #3)(106)

“Where are you? Do you need me to come and get you? Are you hurt?” She pauses. “Oh! Do you need legal help? I’m not practicing anymore, but I could—”

“Can I see you?” I blurt. And now it seems like it’s her turn for stunned silence. “I’m on my way to Chestnut Springs already. I could . . . I don’t know.” A ragged sigh drags its way up my throat. “Buy you a coffee?” I finish lamely, glancing at the digital clock that shows it’s already six p.m.

Her voice comes through the phone a little thick, a little soft. “I would love that. But we could do wine instead?”

A knot of tension unfurls in my chest, one I didn’t even know was there until now. And now that I’ve noticed it, I can’t help but feel like it’s been there for years.

“Yeah.” My fingers pulse on the steering wheel. “Yeah. Wine. Good.”

I sound like a fucking cavewoman.

“We’re having a family dinner at the main house tonight. There will be a bunch of people. I’d love if you came too.”

My throat clogs uncharacteristically. This brand of kindness feels foreign after living in a sterile bubble with Rob and my mom for so long. This brand of forgiveness . . . I don’t know how to react to it.

So I just roll with it. Seems like the least I can do.

“I’ll be there. Can you send me the address?”





In my haste to get the hell out of the city, I ignored my gas tank for as long as I could. No doubt, cutting it dangerously close. Which has only added to my anxiety the farther away I’ve gotten from that city limit.

So, I give in and stop for gas in Chestnut Springs before hitting the sketchy back road my phone mapped out to the ranch.

As I stand here, freezing and wishing I’d worn more appropriate outdoor winter clothing, I let all the worry creep in through my carefully erected walls.

Worry over seeing Summer.

Worry over sitting down to dinner with a bunch of people who no doubt think I’m a heinous bitch.

Worry over the snow packed roads. I’ve seen too many car accident traumas roll into the ER lately.

Worry over my career and what the hell I’m going to do—where I’m going to land.

Hilariously—albeit a dark kind of hilarious—I feel next to no concern over the thought of leaving Rob for good. I’ve strung that out for a long time. I’ve thought about it, looked at it from every angle.

Only a stupid person would stay married to Rob with nothing tying them to him.

And I’m a lot of things, but stupid isn’t one of them.

I sigh a deep, heavy sigh and watch my breath puff out from between my lips into a smoky little cloud, more obvious under the neon lights that flood down over the gas bays. The tips of my fingers go from tingling to downright numb in a matter of seconds, where they’re wrapped around the red plastic handle. I bounce on the spot and look up when I hear a bell jangle at the door of the gas station.

The man who walks out through the glass door is all swagger and broad shoulders. Dark hair, darker eyes, lashes that make the blonde girl in me a little irritated. He’s smirking down at the lotto ticket in his hand, like he thinks he’s going to win.

I could tell him he’s not going to win. That it’s a waste of money. But I get the distinct impression that this is the type of man who doesn’t care.

He’s got unlaced boots, jeans stacked around the tops. A couple of long silver chains adorn his chest, disappearing under a plaid button-down that is open just a little too far, a heavy knit cardigan slung carelessly over the top.

He’s sexy without even trying. He doesn’t even seem cold. I bet he rolls out of bed after sleeping in yesterday’s socks and just shoves them back in those worn leather boots.

I’ve stared at him so long, so thoroughly, that the gas pump makes a loud clanking noise as it bumps back into my palm, signaling the tank is full.

The noise of it draws his attention my way, and he turns the full force of his good looks on me. The square jaw dusted with the perfect amount of stubble, topped off with lips that are just wasted on a man. The way this man looks? It’s absurd.

I drop my head quickly, fumbling with the pump to get it latched back in his holder. My tongue swipes at my lips.

I get the distinct sense that the man is watching me, but I don’t glance up to see. There’s a flutter in my chest and a heat in my cheeks, one I haven’t felt for a very, very long time.

Because I was actually happily married. And now I’m . . . not.

I think.

And this is the first man I’ve really let myself look at inappropriately. A man who can’t bother to tie his shoes and plays the lotto.

“Ugh,” I groan at myself as I approach my door, suddenly a lot less cold than I was before I saw him.

But as I’m about to slide into my seat, I look back over my shoulder at the man.

The one standing at his silver truck.

The one who’s still looking at me with a knowing smirk on his face.

The one who runs a hand through his perfectly tousled hair and winks at me.

I’m in my car and out onto the dark road like a shot, getting away as quickly as possible.

Becausethe very last thing I need in my head is a man like that.

Chapter 2 - Theo

The blonde woman stared at me like I was some sort of alien. I actually had to stop and stare back because she was so fucking blatant.