More Than I Could (85)



She nods, licking her lips and blowing out a breath. “I thought … never mind.”

I know what she thought, and I thought it too. But the truth is, we might’ve had a great couple of weeks, but that’s not the real world. Why would she want to be sucked into this with us?

“Look, Megan, I’ve slept about five hours since I left here the other day. I have a pile of paperwork to do tomorrow. I have to talk to Kennedy. I have to call the school, deal with my mom coming home, and who knows what else will happen by morning.” I frown. “I’m dirty. I’m tired. And … And I don’t know why in the hell you’d want to be a part of this. If I were you, I’d go.”

“But what about the swing? All of that?”

“Do you want to do this, Megan? Really? Do you want this to be your life?” I spin in a circle, holding my arms out to the side. “Do you want to be stuck here raising my kid? Making me dinner? Waiting for me to come home?”

She blinks at me.

“Where will you work? What will you do for fun? How will you have a life here?”

Slowly, a look of sadness mixed with anger slides across her face. Although it kills me, I find some relief in it. If she’s feeling those things, at least she’s not upset.

But also—at least she feels enough for me to care.

Dammit.

“And why are you just thinking about this now?” she asks. “You sure weren’t coming from this angle the other day.”

“Because maybe I see things for the way they really are. Maybe reality just hit, and I’m thinking clearer without you sitting on my lap.”

That’s not fair, and I know it. But I can’t recant it. It might not be reasonable, but it is the truth.

Megan sniffles, her eyes narrowed. “You’re right. We got ahead of ourselves. It was just lust, after all. Don’t you think?”

My heart cracks. I can’t answer that. If I try, I’ll blurt out what I know is the truth—that I love her. And that will really complicate this.

That would be unfair.

She smiles, blinking back what I think are tears. “Okay. Thanks for letting me know.”

Megan gives me a wide berth when she walks toward the hallway.

“Can we talk about this tomorrow?” I ask, my chest slicing right down the middle. It takes everything in me not to reach out to her. Let her go, Chase.

“Sure.”

I should follow her. I should call out her name and pull her in my arms. But it’s probably better for both of us to just let her go tonight.





Chapter Thirty-Two





Megan




I roll over and look at the clock—two o’clock on the dot.

My chest is heavy, and my stomach is sour. I managed not to cry until the house got quiet, and I was sure no one was coming by my room. Kennedy texted me good night and thanked me for helping her today. Chase, on the other hand, didn’t acknowledge my existence. I did hear him talking to Kennedy for a long time.

If nothing else, he’s a great father.

I flip on the bedside table light and sit in bed. I’m afraid to go downstairs to get a snack. The last thing I want is to run into Chase. I have no idea why he grew so cold to me tonight, and I have even less of an idea about what to say to him.

How did he go from practically asking me to move in, to telling me I was just a piece of ass?

“Because maybe I see things for the way they really are. Maybe reality just hit, and I’m thinking better without you sitting on my lap.”

“Oh, fuck off,” I say, replaying his words for the hundredth time.

I grab my phone and find Calista’s name.



Me: Are you awake?





Calista: Yup. What are you doing awake?





Me: Well, me and Mr. Marshall had a falling out tonight.





Calista: Wanna call me?





Me: No. I’m afraid he’ll hear me talking.





Calista: Got ya.





I get off the bed and wander over to the window. I remember the first time I was here. The excitement of it, the wariness. How nervous I was, yet not—because Chase was … Chase.



Calista: What happened?





Me: Kennedy got in trouble at school. Chase came home from a work trip, found out, and got all pissy with me for not telling him until he got home. Then he started saying shit like I didn’t sign up for this and there’s nowhere for me to work here—like I would want to stay here and mooch off him.





Calista: Okay, I didn’t know you guys were serious.





Me: We weren’t. I mean, we talked about things. Sort of. You know …





Calista: So he was into it, and you were backpedaling out of a healthy relationship?





Me: Sometimes I hate you.





Calista: <laughing emoji>





I sit on the edge of the bed and sigh.



Calista: So what’s the status? Are you going home?





Me: I don’t know. We left things up in the air.

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