This Is Love, Baby (War & Peace #2)

And everything changed.

Nothing will ever go back to the way things used to be.

By the time I reach the truck, he’s squatting down beside it. When I round the vehicle to inspect what he’s looking at, my heart sinks.

“I dropped it. It’s dead now.”

The phone is shattered and the screen is black. My brows furrow as suspicion trickles through me. I used to drop my phone all of the time and never once shattered it. Sure, I cracked it a time or two, but it never shattered. He had to have thrown it when he had his angry tantrum. I want to shout at him for being a hot-headed asshole or to demand why he’d destroy our only connection to the outside world. Instead, I lift my chin and wordlessly go back to the passenger side to climb in. Casting one more glance at my mother’s final resting place, I silently make a vow to her.

I will find a way to be happy, Mom.

A way to be safe.

I will protect myself and nurture the love in my heart for War.

You don’t have to worry about your little girl anymore. I’m all grown up.

I won’t let anyone control my life but me.




The drive back to the cabin is silent and it’s driving me crazy. My mind buzzes with all sorts of questions. Everything out of his mouth seems like a lie and I want to shake the truth from him.

“Do your parents know you came to save me?” I ask and flick my gaze over to him.

He shrugs and continues to stare ahead of him. “Nope. They don’t give a shit about anything except for school and baseball. Neither of them cared about what happened to you. That’s why I left. I’ve been looking for you ever since.”

I frown and look out the window lost in my thoughts for a while. It surprises me that Brandon would move out. Where would he even go? Has he been working this entire time? I’m shocked that he would give up so much for me. When my stomach lets out a grumble, I turn back to regard him. His shoulders are rigid and tense while his hands grip the steering wheel. The muscle on his neck flexes every other second as he clenches his jaw. He’s clearly still angry about what happened at the cemetery.

“I’m hungry,” I tell him. “We passed a diner earlier on the way to see Mom’s gravesite. Can we stop there and get some dinner on the way back?”

He snaps his head over to me and his eyes are wild with anxiety, sending my heart galloping right out the window. “No. We’ll hit a drive-thru on the way back.”

His head jerks back to the road and I glare at him. Whatever is going on inside his head is really starting to piss me off. “I don’t want to go to a drive-thru. I’m not necessarily eager to get back to the cabin. I need some more time away. Why are you in such a hurry to get back anyway?”

He shrugs his shoulders, feigning indifference, but he’s too stiff to pull it off. His lies are so easy to read. “I’m tired. We’re not going to the diner. McDonald’s or Taco Bell?”

“Brandon,” I snap, “what is wrong with you? I just told you I don’t want to go back right now. Why can’t you respect that? Don’t you even understand what kind of shit I’ve been through? That cabin is the last place I want to be right now. I want to go to the diner!” My voice is shrill and I’m seconds away from clobbering him for being an asshole.

His hand swings my way, causing me to flinch, and he points his finger at me. “We’re not going to the goddamned diner, Baylee!” he hisses, his eyes wild with fury. “Now get over it.”

I gape at him in shock.

There’s no way in hell I’m getting over it.

“Stop the truck,” I seethe and gather my purse in my lap.

He cuts his eyes back over to me and panic flashes over his features. “What? Why?”

“Stop the stupid truck!” I shriek. “I’m over it! I’m over how weird you’re acting and your constant lies. I can’t take it anymore! STOP THE TRUCK!”

The tires screech as he slams on the brake and pulls the vehicle over to the shoulder. As soon as it stops, I climb out and begin storming toward town. I can hear his heavy footsteps crunching on the gravel behind me as he follows me.

“Baylee, stop. Please,” he begs. The crack in his voice makes my heart ache but I ignore it and continue stomping away.

“Baylee!” His voice is sharp and his fingers bite into my bicep as he physically stops me. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

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