“No, I didn’t say anything,” he says, hands raised placatingly. “I just—”
“Just what? Just until you could get me into bed? Mission accomplished there, cowboy. Was that the endgame?”
His eyes flash with hurt. “That's not fair. You know it wasn't like that.”
“Do I? Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you deliberately kept me here, manipulated the situation so I'd have no choice but to depend on you.”
He rakes a hand through his hair, frustration evident in every line of his body. “I wanted time with you, yes. I delayed telling you the cottage was fixed because I thought—I hoped—”
“What? That I wouldn't notice? That I'd be so dazzled by your charm I wouldn't care you've been lying to me?”
“That you felt what I feel!” he fires back, stepping toward me, his voice loud with panic and raw with something that sounds terrifyingly like heartbreak. “That this thing between us was worth exploring without the ticking clock of you running off the moment your rental dried out!”
I recoil slightly, folding my arms tightly across my chest. “So you decided for me. Without asking. Without even giving me the chance to decide if I wanted to stay. That doesn't make it okay, Grant! You don't get to decide what's best for me, to manipulate circumstances to keep me where you want me!” My voice cracks. “My father did that for years after my mom died. Controlled every aspect of my life under the guise of protection. I swore I'd never let anyone trap me like that again.”
His eyes widen. “That's not what I was doing. I would never—”
“This isn’t just about leaving your bed Grant.” I whisper. My voice is shaking now, and I hold up the passport like it’s Exhibit A in a trial I never wanted to be in. “What about this? What else were you planning on ‘not mentioning’ for my own good?”
His brows furrow for a beat—confusion flickers across his features—then something clicks. His whole body goes still. “Your passport…” he whispers, blinking like he’s just been slapped. “Mia, I swear to God, I didn’t know it came. I didn’t see it until—until now. I wouldn’t—Iwould neverdo that to you.”
“Mia—” His voice breaks around my name like he’s struggling to breathe. “Look, I know what it looks like, but I swear to you, I didn’t know. I didn’t know your passport arrived.” He repeats.
“I don’t know what to believe right now,” I whisper, my voice barely holding together. “Because even if you didn’t know about this…” I hold up my passport. “You still didn’t tell me the cottage was fixed and an option for me.”
His shoulders drop like I’ve just punched him. I want to believe him. God, Iwantto.
But right now, all I can feel is that familiar ache. That fear of being cornered. Of having my choices stripped away.
I don’t blink. Don’t breathe. Because if I let myself breathe, I might break.
“I wanted you here, yeah,” he admits, his hands fisting at his sides. “God, Iwantedyou here. But not like this. Never like this. I wasn’t trying to trap you, Mia. I was just... buying time. Just a little time.”
My eyes sting, but I refuse to let the tears fall.
“But you did.” I shake my head, disappointment heavy in my chest. “You decided you knew better than me what I needed. How is that different?”
“Because I was scared!” he shouts, startling me. “Scared you'd leave before we had a chance. Scared that the first person who's made me feel something real in years would disappear like she was never here.”
We stand facing each other, the counter between us like a no-man's land.
“I need some space,” I finally say, calmer now but no less resolved. “I can't think straight here. Not with you looking at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like I'm breaking your heart.” I turn away, unable to bear the naked emotion in his eyes. “I'm going to work at that café in town for a while. Please don't follow me.”
“Mia, please—”
“I mean it, Grant. I need to process this.”
He steps back, shoulders slumping in defeat. “Fine. Take my truck.”
“I'll walk.”
“It's three miles in this heat.”
“I could use the exercise.”
