It's Only Love(78)

“Please stay and talk to me.”

“What’s there to talk about? You’ve always wanted more from me than I’m able to give. This is the proof.”

“So that’s it? It’s over? Just like that? Because I tried to do something nice for you?”

“No, because you’re too good for me. You deserve better.”

“Gavin, I swear to God, if you walk out that door, don’t come back. You won’t be welcome.”

“I’m sorry, Ella. You’ll never know how sorry I am that I couldn’t make this work.”

With those words, he walked out the door, closing it behind him. As the lock clicked into place, Ella stared at the door, riveted by the memory of making love with him there. Her eyes filled with tears that she barely registered.

“What the hell just happened here?” It defied explanation. It defied belief. Never in her worst nightmares had she expected the reaction she’d gotten from him. She’d expected that he might be a little tense about work, but she’d thought that perhaps he’d call Clinton and go over everything with him and at least try to make it work.

But he hadn’t done that. He’d just said thanks but no thanks and then left. She couldn’t believe he’d actually left. There had to be more to this than work. But what was it and why wouldn’t he tell her rather than end a relationship that was making them both happy over a trip no one was going to force him to take?

It didn’t make sense. It didn’t add up.

Ella stared at the door for a long, long time before she turned and went into the kitchen to call his mother.


*

Gavin’s hands were shaking so badly he could barely drive. God, what had he done? It would be a very long time, if ever, before he forgot the shattered expression on her lovely face. He was a heartless bastard for letting this happen in the first place. That was where he’d made his first mistake.

The time with her had been amazing—the best days of his life—but all along he’d been waiting to f*ck it up. He’d known he would. He couldn’t tell her why he didn’t want to go to the wedding. He’d never told anyone why he’d taken a step back from his brother’s friends after Caleb died.

How could anyone understand what he barely understood himself?

No, he’d done the right thing. He kept telling himself that over and over again on the lonely, dark ride home. For a brief moment he thought about driving out of town to a place where no one knew him so he could get drunk in peace.

But he rejected that idea and headed home, where he had plenty of whiskey and could tie one on in the privacy of his own space.

He pulled up to the cabin and went inside where it was cold and dark. If only his f*cking hands would stop shaking, he thought as he built up a fire in the woodstove. When his legs would no longer support him in a squat in front of the fireplace, he fell back to the floor, coming to rest against the sofa.

“What the f*ck did I do?” Her face . . . that incredibly beautiful face and the way she’d stared at him as if he’d lost his mind . . . The memory of that would haunt him forever. How could he have done that to her? He couldn’t bear to think of the time, effort and expense she’d gone to in order to surprise him, only to have it spit back in her face because he was a pathetic loser who couldn’t find his way out of the swamp of grief and regret his life had become.

Leaving had been the right thing to do.

No, his heart cried out from its painful post inside his chest. It had not been the right thing to do. He’d barely survived one day and one night without her, and now he’d sentenced himself to the rest of his life without her all because he was too much of a coward to confront the truth?

“God, what did I do?” He sat on the floor and ran his fingers through his hair over and over again, wishing he had the courage to go back and face her, to try to explain, to make her see. But she’d told him he wouldn’t be welcome back if he left, and she’d meant it.

He’d finally pushed her too far. He’d finally managed to push her right out of his life.

A knock on the door brought him to his feet, his heart leaping in the hope that it might be her, that maybe she’d come after him one more time. But it wasn’t Ella. It was his dad, and he didn’t look happy.

“Let me in, Gavin.”

“This isn’t a good time, Dad.”

“I’m not leaving until I talk to you, so step aside and let me in.”

Gavin recognized that steely tone in the colonel’s voice and knew he was staring defeat in the face. He stepped aside. His dad walked into the house and went straight to the fridge, where he retrieved a beer. He held it up to ask Gavin if he wanted one.

Gavin shook his head. He wasn’t at all sure he could keep it down. “What’re you doing here anyway?”

“Ella called Mom.”

Gavin sighed, imagining that conversation.

His dad took a drink from his beer. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“You want the whole list or just the top ten?”

Bob put the beer down on the counter and ran his hand over his mouth. Gavin couldn’t recall the last time he’d seen his dad so agitated. Well, yes he could . . . He’d looked just like this on the worst day of their lives. Gavin felt a tinge of shame at having driven him to that state again.