Trusting the Ex: A Second Chance Small Town Romance (Small Town Desires Book 2) by Missy Walker

Author:Missy Walker [Walker, Missy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-11-23T18:30:00+00:00

13

Blake

All day. All fucking day, I hammered away. Thinking about what Lily had said. The nerve. She had the nerve to say that about me? When all along, she was the one who wasn’t together. Camille made a mockery of what we were. She’d cemented that after fucking a random on our feather and down duvet, ass-up on an alternate cock.

I was in too deep with both father and daughter, chained by ironclad arrangements with a soon-to-be-wife and the career of my dreams. I had wanted both. But being in bed with Camille and her father lacked the luster it once had. But as the day went on, my need to see Lily grew stronger. So strong that it was all I could damn well think about.

My foot pressed the pedal so it hit the floor. The beat-up pickup roared with a new lease on life as it thundered down the highway, whizzing past cars like that were stationary.

I had to tell her the truth. Then we could go our separate ways. She could be blissful in her utopia of random pursuits, and I could go back to New York in a week’s time and forget small-town Seaview. Forget Lily. Being in New York, I’m sure things would make sense again.

I curled my thick fingers around the steering wheel, hoping my Thor-like grip would make me arrive faster.

The highway exit came into view. Behind it, the faint hue of lilac and salmon slashed the evening skyline. I took the exit and sped along the quiet streets, anxious to see her. The street lights flickered on at the same time my phone vibrated.

Robert’s name flashed on the screen. Fuck. I slammed my hand on the steering wheel. The force sent a sharp pain up my forearm. He didn’t care that I’d just buried my father. That was done. I was just supposed to get back to work, right?

He worked around the clock and expected anyone who worked for him to do the same. Otherwise, you wouldn’t work there. They think sending an ostentatious bouquet of flowers that hardly fit in the doorframe negated that. Yesterday, the smell was so bad I’d thrown them straight into the dumpster.

But my dad just died. Surely, an inch of breathing room wouldn’t hurt?

Fuck it!

I had better things to do.

A calm washed over me as I sent the call to my voicemail.

I followed the signs to the national park. It would just be a quick visit to tell her the truth and get it off my chest. Then we could both move on. The guilt I carried would disappear, and my life would return to normal. Wouldn’t it? I raked my hand through my hair, uncertain about my perfect plan.

I hadn’t the faintest clue where she’d be or how to find her. And the last thing I wanted to do was to call her. Based on how bright her cheeks burned with anger last night, she’d hang up on me or, worse, tell me to go home.

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