Burn for You (Slow Burn Book 1)(104)
His voice was choked with emotion. His eyes were wild like I’d never seen them. I put my hand over my thundering heart.
“I’m sorry,” he rasped, instantly contrite, taking a step back. “Fuck. I’m so sorry. I’m an asshole. I know this is the worst day of your life. I didn’t mean to—I can’t—”
He cursed again, whirling away, and headed for the front door. “Keep the ring,” he said over his shoulder. “Hock it. Throw it away. Whatever you want. I’ll send all your things tomorrow. Let me know if there’s anything else you need.”
He opened the door and was gone before I could even decide if the words forming on my lips were “Thank you” or “Don’t go.”
The screen door slammed shut behind him.
True to his word, Jackson had all my things delivered to Mama’s house the next day in the same boxes I’d packed them into a lifetime ago. I spent a few days in a weird kind of limbo, puttering around aimlessly, trying to decide if I wanted to sell the house or keep it, before I gave up pressuring myself to make any big decisions and retired to the sofa in the front parlor, where I stayed for several more days, rising only to scrounge from the casseroles and leftovers crammed in the fridge.
I didn’t allow myself to think about Jackson. There was a dangerous ache under my breastbone when I got too close to even picturing his face, so I shoved the memory of him and our short, magical time at Moonstar Ranch down into a dark corner of my heart and concentrated on the business of being depressed.
Eeny didn’t let that continue long before barging through the front door and scolding me to within an inch of my life.
“Get off your behind, girl, and get back to work! Who do you think you’re honorin’ with all this mopin’ around? Because it sure ain’t your mama! She’d be scandalized if she could see you right now, lyin’ there wallowin’ like a pig in shit!”
Eeny loomed over me, hands propped on her hips, scowling down at the pathetic picture I made in my dirty pajamas and unwashed hair on the couch.
I severely regretted giving her a key.
“You’re right,” I said tonelessly, staring at the ceiling. “I know you’re right.”
“Then get your ass in gear and get up!” She gave the sofa a frustrated little kick, jostling me.
“I’m in mourning. You shouldn’t curse at people in mourning.”
She snorted and crossed her arms over her chest. “You’re in danger of gettin’ on my bad side, boo.”
She didn’t have to say more than that. The last person who got on her bad side ended up with four slashed tires on his car, a headless rooster on his doorstep, and a strange, persistent rash.
“I’m up,” I grumbled, rousing. “Terrorist.”
“You’re the terrorist, child. Have you looked in a mirror lately? You’re so frightenin’ I’d hire you to haunt a house! You’re so scary lookin’ you’d make a freight train take a dirt road! You look so bad—”
“I get it, I get it,” I said, stumbling to my feet. “I look like crap.”
Eeny nodded as if I’d said something remarkably intelligent for once. “Like you fell out the ugly tree and hit every damn branch on the way down.”
I sighed heavily. Eeny grimaced and waved an offended hand in front of her face.
“Lawd! That breath of yours is nuclear, girl! Can’t believe it hasn’t melted the lips right off your face.”
From somewhere deep inside me emerged a grudging chuckle, which made Eeny smile and nod her head.
“That’s better. Now go take a shower and put on some clean clothes. We’re goin’ to the restaurant. You got people to feed, and I miss that ornery ol’ billy goat Hoyt more than I ever woulda guessed. Don’t gimme that stink eye!” she snapped when I raised my brows. “And if you repeat that to anyone, I’ll mash your potatoes!”
“My lips are sealed.”
I smiled for the first time in days as I headed off to the bathroom to wash away a week’s worth of neglect. I stopped when I heard my cell phone ring from the kitchen counter. I didn’t recognize the number when I picked up.
“Hello?”
“Miss Hardwick, it’s Michael Roth.”
He was the attorney I’d hired to review my contract with Jackson. “How can I help you, Mr. Roth?”
“I received a copy of the trust documents from Mr. Boudreaux’s attorney.”
“Oh. Yes, um, well Mr. Boudreaux and I . . . the contract you reviewed . . .” I sighed. “Mr. Boudreaux doesn’t want to move forward with the marriage, so the contract is void at this point.”