Honestly, I wasn’t sure which part of it stung the most.
Little snippets of memories played through my mind—the way she’d snapped at me when I’d pressed her about her ex, how angry she’d been when she’d slammed down her phone in my kitchen, the way she always looked at her cell like it was about to detonate at any moment.
“Nothing to write home about?” I asked quietly, and then forced myself to look at her, wondering if I’d ever be able to do that again without feeling sick.
Charlotte’s gaze darted between Prescott and me, her eyes brimming with tears. “You have to understand—”
I wasn’t interested in hearing it. I turned on Prescott, now remembering the things he’d told me before she walked through the door. He’d talked about what a pain in the ass his fiancée had been. How he didn’t love her. How he’d only gone after her to make sure she cleaned up her own mess back home before moving on with her life like nothing had happened.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” I demanded, my hands balled into fists at my side.
Prescott’s eyes narrowed. “What the fuck is wrong with me? What’s wrong with you?”
“You couldn’t just leave her the fuck alone?” I growled. “You didn’t think she’d been through enough?”
“Ah.” Prescott nodded. “So that’s how you know each other.”
“And what’s that supposed to mean?”
“I mean you fucked her. Not to put too fine a point on it,” he muttered.
All I had to do was swing. One punch and he’d be on the floor—that was the one advantage of growing up without having money to fix all my problems, I supposed. But he was smaller than me, obviously just as confused, and the fight wouldn’t have been a fair one.
No matter how much I wanted to teach him a fucking lesson.
“Don’t talk about her like that. Or better yet, how about you don’t talk about her at all?” I started, but then Charlotte’s hand was on my chest, pushing me back toward the bar.
“Look, I couldn’t tell you,” she said, her eyes pleading. Then she turned to Prescott. “You didn’t have to come here and do this to me.”
“Do this to you?” This time it was his turn to let out a humorless laugh. “Do you have any idea what I’ve been dealing with? Your parents are all over me, and I had to handle the fallout of your big break for freedom. The least you could’ve done was return my calls.”
She shook her head, her hand still pressed to my chest as she replied to him. “I didn’t want you to try to convince me to change my mind,” she whispered miserably.
“Change your mind?” Prescott shook his head. “I don’t want you back. Your leaving was the best thing that ever happened to me. You set us both free. I realized that two seconds after you left, when I found I felt nothing but surprise and relief. But I can’t handle the fallout on my own. You might not love me, Charlotte, but I know you care. Just help me deal with this mess and our families.” He raked a hand through his hair and groaned. “Do you have any idea what our mothers are putting me through?”
A single tear slid down her cheek. “I didn’t hurt you?”
Prescott shook his head. “My pride was wounded and I was pissed, don’t get me wrong, but I don’t love you. We weren’t right for each other, and never have been. The family pressure was just too strong for me to see that.”
“I—” she started, but I sidestepped her and made my way for the barn door.
“Well, I’m glad you guys have worked everything out. Have a good time in New York. And lock up on your way out.”
I shoved the door open and scanned my surroundings for anything I could hit, something that might relieve the pressure building inside me, about to blow. Because all that time, Charlotte had been lying to me. All that fucking time.
Fuck, runaways must have been able to smell me from a mile away. First my mother and then Sarah, and now Charlotte too.
“Luke!”
Charlotte shouted to me from the barn door but I was already too far away, and her voice was nearly drowned out by the whipping of the wind.
I had to get back home, needed to try to return my ticket to LA and move on.
A little voice inside me laughed. Move on to what, Luke? The next fucking tumbleweed that rolls into your life and back out of it?
God, how could I have been so stupid?
Maybe I should have gone back to shake Prescott Billingsley the Sixth’s hand. I might have a broken heart, but he might have just saved me from total annihilation.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Charlotte
The wind whipped my hair over my face as I called for Luke again, but he didn’t stop walking. In fact, he didn’t even bother to turn around.
Part of me wanted to run the other way. Admit defeat and accept that I’d done this to myself and deserved whatever happened next. But the other part was so damned mad at him that nothing else mattered anymore.
Whatever happened, he needed to hear the truth from my lips. If he still hated me, so be it. At least I could go on and try to piece some semblance of a life together with no regrets.
I took one step forward, then stopped as a big blue truck rolled into the parking area and stopped next to my sedan. Duke climbed from the driver’s seat and blinked at me, although he seemed much less surprised to see me than his brother had.
“What’s the deal? I heard there was an investor here?” He glanced from me to the other cars and then gave me a confused look. “And where the hell did you come from?”
“It’s a long story,” I said.
The wind picked up again as Valentina tripped through the door to join me. She stared from Duke to me and back again.
“Oh, sorry, I’ll just—” She tried to move, but then stopped. “Wait, you weren’t wearing—”
“This is Duke.” I nodded toward him. “Luke’s twin brother. Luke’s gone,” I murmured, my throat sticking on the words.
“Hey there,” Valentina said with a smile, and wrinkled her nose when Duke tipped the bill of his ball cap toward her. “Charlotte, Prescott says he still wants to talk to you.”
“Does it have to be this moment? Surely he realizes I’m a little busy right now?” I asked her, staring in Luke’s wake.
“Yes, now would be good, Charlotte.” This time it was Prescott who spoke, poking his head out from behind the barn door.