“Pretty sure it comes from her parents expecting Christian to marry her.”
“After one night?”
“Yeah.” He lets out a humorless laugh. “They didn’t want anyone to know their daughter spread her legs in a field and ended up knocked up without a ring on her finger. They offered Christian cash, tried to buy out the farm, and went straight to my dad with some bullshit deal to make the whole thing go their way. It was a whole fucking mess for an eighteen-year-old kid, and Christian, being Christian, wouldn’t do a damn thing he didn’t want to do,” Callan continues. “Especially not something like that. So he refused, and ever since, the Beaufords have made his life a living hell. Kept him from seeing his kid and made him fight for every scrap of time he got.”
“All the Beaufords fucking suck.”
“And yet you’re dating one.”
“Was,” I correct. “That’s done.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, I’m not doing this for another day.” He watches me for a beat, nodding like he’s waiting to see if I’ll take it back. When I don’t, he exhales, shoulders dropping like he’s relieved. “Can I still work at the bar, or will you catch shit for employing the enemy?”
“I’d keep you on just to piss him off more, to be honest.” We both laugh, and he walks toward me, slinging an arm around my shoulders. “You’ve got a job at the bar for as long as you want.”
“Thank you,” I say, meaning it.
We step outside, and the farm is already buzzing with life. Families flood in, and kids sprint ahead of their parents. Their excitement spills out in shrieks, and laughter bounces through the air. Callan disappears toward the cutting field, saw slung over his shoulder, while Savannah hands out hot drinks, and I gather all the little ones into the most epic snowball fight this farm has ever seen. Kids dive behind trees, parents laugh and cheer from the sidelines, and for a moment, everything feels perfect.
I’m pacing the kitchen like a caged animal, and my nerves are stretched so fucking thin they might snap. Callan closed early to get back to the bar, and everyone else went home. Now it’s just me waiting on Travis. I only know he’s coming back after the one-word message I got a couple of hours ago. “OK.” That was it. No apology. No explanation. Just a bare-minimum response that somehow still manages to piss me off.
I’m praying Christian stays away. If everything goes according to plan, this relationship will be dead and buried, and I’ll be curled up on my sister’s couch before I have to explain myself to anyone else.
The front door opens, and it’s not the slow, deliberate shuffle of boots that belongs to a certain hot daddy cowboy.
No, this is Travis.
He rounds the corner into the kitchen, where I’m leaning against the counter, my fingers gripping the edge so tight the tips start to go numb. He barely glances at me before exhaling like I’m nothing more than a fucking chore.
“Don’t start,” he growls. “I don’t need your shit too.”
“Too?”
“Yeah.” His jaw clenches. “My mom’s already riding my ass about coming back here tonight.”
A harsh laugh escapes me. “That woman wouldn’t dare say a word against her precious boy. She’d blame God himself before holding you accountable for anything.”
“Shut up, Piper. I’m not in the mood to deal with you right now.”
“Well, that’s good. That’ll make my life a hell of a lot easier because after tonight, you’ll never have to deal with me again.”
He stops and tilts his head. Then the bastard smiles, and that smile turns into a laugh—loud, cocky, and downright disrespectful.
“Is this you attempting to break up with me?”
“This is over, Travis. You know it, and I know it. It’s been a long time coming.” His smirk falters, eyes narrowing. “Don’t look at me likethat,” I bite out. “Neither of us makes each other happy, and if we’re being honest, I don’t think we ever fucking have.”
Because this—whatever the hell we’ve been doing—has never been love or anything close to it.
“It’s the fact that you’re the one breaking up with me that I can’t wrap my head around.”
“Jesus.” I bark out a laugh, crossing my arms over my chest. “Your misplaced ego is so far out of hand it’s in another fucking time zone.”
“Do you really think you’ll ever do better?” My eyes harden as anger curls tight in my chest. “Look at you, Piper. You’re average at best.”
Oh, this motherfucker.
