Truth or Beard(113)

My heart hurt for him, but I didn’t know what to say, how to make it better. Regardless, he didn’t give me a chance.

Duane peeled my fingers from his arm and cradled my hand between his. “You want to go out there and live your dreams, then I’m going to remove myself from the equation. I’m not going to stand in your way. Because I would rather see the sadness in your eyes now than resentment in your eyes months or years from now. We are over. And I have to be the one to end it. I have to be the one to walk away. It has to be my decision. You need to give me that at least.”

He dropped my hand and stepped away, his eyes moving around the cabin like he was searching for something. Finding his shirt, he pulled it on. I watched numbly, part of me still cuddled up with him in bed, as he sat in one of the chairs by the table and put on his socks and boots.

I was feeling so many things, but none of them were eloquent. Broken. Sad. Broken and sad. That’s what I was. Silent tears slipped through my eyelids while he slipped through my fingers.

I didn’t have the brainpower or the heart for an impassioned speech. I was tired and my heart was bruised. But I couldn’t let him go. Not without exploring every option. Not without a Hail Mary pass.

I couldn’t keep bashing myself against a door he kept firmly closed, but I could leave a note.

Therefore, on a desperate whim, I asked with an unsteady voice, “Truth or dare, Duane?”

He shook his head, his eyes closing briefly to cover his discomfort, like the sound of my voice caused physical injury. “Truth or dare? You want to play truth or dare now?”

“Yes. Pick one, truth or dare?”

“Fine.” He clenched his jaw then gave me his eyes, they were cool and distant. “Dare.”

I nodded once, making a decision to be vulnerable just once more. “I dare you to extend the term of our relationship to indefinite.”

His expression didn’t change. He just stared at me. The line of his mouth flat and straight.

So I pushed, begging, “Stay with me tonight, don’t leave. Stay with me, and not just for twelve months. Stay with me always.”

He winced and I could see his hackles rise. Before he could speak, I lifted my hand to stop him.

“I see you don’t understand my meaning.”

“I understand you perfectly,” he ground out, his tone rough, unyielding.

“No. You don’t.” I waited a beat, wanting to be sure he saw I was serious before I handed him my heart on a platter. “Come with me.”

That made a dent. He blinked his surprise before he could catch himself and blurted, “What?”

“Come with me. I dare you to come with me. Next month, next year, whenever. I dare you to come with me when I go. And stay with me, stay with me always.”





CHAPTER 23


“Happiness is not a state to arrive at, but a manner of traveling.”

― Margaret Lee Runbeck





~Duane~


I walked home.

I left Jessica wrapped in a sheet.

I left Jessica.

I left.

And I left part of myself in the cabin. I sensed the emptiness in my middle, in my gut, as soon as I crossed the threshold and entered the cold night. Her suggestion—that I leave with her, travel the world and share her life, her adventures—sounded like a fairy tale. A perfect fairy tale. And I’d been so surprised by the proposition that my mind actually considered the possibility.

But then I remembered the shop, my brothers, my obligations, the shit with the Order, and how everyone had been affected when Ashley ditched us years ago. I remembered my father, and how he took what he wanted, without a care for his family. He came and went as he pleased.

Leaving with Jessica was a fairy tale. Perfect in theory, but completely impractical in reality. Beau and Cletus relied on me, needed me. They couldn’t handle the workload on their own. My savings were invested in the auto shop, and I wasn’t going to travel the world using Jess’s aunt’s money.

Was I too proud? Fuck. Yes.

I was too proud to take money from Jess or anyone else without working for it.

So I left before I reconsidered, before I heeded my siren call.

But even then I’d been undecided. I kept seeing her face, the tears shining in her beautiful eyes as I walked out. The image of her called to me, to the depths of my soul. Each step was a burden. I turned back to the cabin at least three times and the tightness in my chest made breathing near impossible.

That was until I spotted her car. Jessica’s new-to-her car was a brand new, F-Type Jaguar. 5-liter V8. Manual transmission. All-wheel drive. 495 horsepower. I knew my automobiles like most people know their ice cream, so I knew the MSRP (manufacturer’s suggested retail price) was just under a hundred thousand dollars.