I stop in the center of the bridge, not surprised to find empty beer cans and cigarette butts littering the ground. Almost no one drives across this bridge anymore. It’s a place to hang out, to get a good view of the railroad tracks curving away into the distance across the abandoned fields, and to feel the rush as the train surges by beneath you, only inches from your dangling legs.
I swing my legs over the stone ledge and sit on top, my feet seeming to dangle farther than they did before. I haven’t gotten any taller since high school, but it feels like I have.
Or maybe I just have more sense now.
The sense to realize dangling my feet over a train is dangerous.
And stupid. Nearly as stupid as thinking it was a good idea to fall back in love with the woman who ripped my heart out the first time we were a couple.
Well, that’s over now.
For good. Forever.
I pull the ring box from the pocket of my jacket and toss it out into the darkness. There’s just enough moonlight that I can watch it tumble down, landing in the middle of the iron rails.
There. It’s done. I’m glad.
And I’m glad I threw the ring away instead of taking it back to the store to reclaim my giant deposit. My finances deserve to take the hit. Maybe that’ll teach me better than to drop half my life savings—or my defenses—for a woman I can’t trust.
I’m still sitting on the cold stone, considering whether or not to wait and watch the next train run the ring over, when a pair of headlights cut through the darkness. They move swiftly down the gravel road, but the car slows as the driver passes my truck and rolls toward the bridge.
Wary, I lift a hand, shielding my eyes, wondering if the guy is going to stop, or cross over with me sitting on the side.
Turns out the answer is neither.
Ten feet from the bridge, the car shuts off its headlights. A moment later the engine follows suit and the driver’s door swings open.
Even before my eyes adjust to the sudden loss of light, I know who it is.
My Naomi-dar is as strong as ever. She’s like a phantom limb I’ll never stop missing, but that doesn’t mean I want it back.
As she closes the distance between us—holding up her long black dress in both hands—I clench my jaw, determined to end this.
Now.
In a fashion that will ensure Naomi leaves me alone for the rest of our lives.
I will probably always love her. I can’t help that, but I can help what I do about it. Giving her a second chance was stupid; giving her a third would be asking for a bomb to be tossed through the shattered windows of my heart.
I lift my chin and steel myself to do this right, no matter how much it’s going to hurt.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Naomi
He’s here.
Thank God.
Jake’s at the old bridge where my gut said he would be. My hunch paid off and now I’ll be able to talk to him, to reason with him.
I hope…
My arms are trembling with a bone-wobbling mix of relief and anxiety, but I don’t hesitate. I close the distance to Jake as quickly as I can manage in a floor-length gown, ignoring the cold wind stinging my bare shoulders and making my eyes water.
The fact that I’m freezing doesn’t matter. All that matters is finding a way to convince Jake that nothing’s really changed. I’m still the woman who knows how to make him happy, and he’s still the only man who will ever hold the key to my heart.
He’s the only man I want to share my life with, the only man I’ll ever want.
If I can’t convince him to put this behind us, I don’t know how I’ll ever find the strength to start over again.
A future without him…
The thought alone is enough to make my throat close up and the backs of my eyes sting. He made me remember how sweet it is to be loved, to find joy and safety and passion and belonging in his arms and I can’t go back to a world without him.
I won’t.
“We have to talk,” I say as I reach the bridge, grateful my voice sounds steadier than I feel. “I know what you heard, but I—”
“Go away.” His tone is so ominous, so final-sounding that it makes my bones ache with dread.
This is going to be bad—clearly—but if he thinks a spooky voice is enough to scare me away, he has another think coming.
“I’m not leaving until we talk.” I grip the fabric clenched in my fists so tight my fingernails dig into my palms through the heavy satin. “Until you let me explain.”
“There’s nothing to explain.” He’s sitting so still he looks like a statue, the pale moonlight lending a chilling, inhuman air to his face.