Page 3 of Don't Leave Me Behind
I chase after him up the stairs, not sure what I’m going to say.Please stay in this tiny house with me so my family doesn’t know I’m a royal screw-up?Most guys would be happy to stay in a one-bed cabin with me. Hell, most would jump at the chance. Not Clayton Traeger. No, he’s practically sprinting to get away from me. The self-righteous prick.
He ghosted me for ten years, then tried to kiss the living daylights out of me. I mean, I know, I kissed him first, but he tried to kiss me back! The least he can do is hear me out.
I follow him into the bathroom, reaching for his shaving kit, trying to pull it out of his hands as he shoves things into it. “Wait, please just listen.”
“Uh-uh,” he shakes his head, scooping me up and setting me out of the way so he can pull a duffel bag off the shelves that double as a closet. My muscles stiffen involuntarily; I forgot how strong he is. A shaky breath escapes me. This is a bad idea,but I’m out of options. If I don’t want to tell my family everything, things need to stay exactly as they are. I need him to stay, and I need him to keep it a secret.
“You won’t even try to hear what I have to say?”
“I’m not staying here.”
He doesn’t say it, but thewith youpart of that statement is loud and clear. Of course, he wouldn’t want to stay with me. The guy practically ran away from me when we were younger. How did I somehow forget that he ghosted me first? Obviously, I make him uncomfortable.
“Shit, Clayton,” I whisper his name, forcing myself to hold back the tears that are threatening to break through. Seeing him, being this close, is bringing back all the feelings I refused to acknowledge. “I’m sorry. Don’t leave. I’ll go to the inn. Or…or I’ll drive back to Benson and stay with Miya for a while.”
He turns to me and chucks his bag on the floor with a thud, and the memory of a chair splintering against the wall makes my breath catch. His broad, muscular arms cross over his chest, pulling his t-shirt taut. He’s bigger than I remember him. So much more of a man than he was when I last saw him. He’s filled out with muscles, exactly like Mom said he would.
“Why are you apologizing? And what the fuck is happening that you can’t just go to the main house, or let me stay somewhere else?” His eyes narrow, as if he’s trying to read the answer in my body language.
“I—clearly, you don’t want to be around me. I’m sorry I kissed you downstairs. I wasn’t trying to make you uncomfortable.”
“I shouldn’t have kissed you back. You were just trying to help. You don’t make me uncomfortable, Len,” he scrubs his hands down his face again, drawing my attention to the stubble I’d traced with my fingers only a few minutes ago. I wish I didn’t, but I want to touch him again. I wish he wanted me to.
“I don’t know how you could be any clearer. I know you don’t want to be around me. I’m not trying to make your life harder, I just—” The exhaustion and emotional toll of this past week catch up to me, and I can’t help the tear that slips free as I move around him, back into the bedroom. I’m too fucking tired for this conversation. My emotions are too raw, too frayed. It’s better to lick my wounds in actual solitude.
Before I can reach the stairs, his strong fingers grip my wrist, the warmth of his skin heating through my plush hoodie. I try to pull away, embarrassment prickles under my skin.What a fucking joke.This is supposed to be my one safe haven, the one thing that was mine. Now it’s another spot on this ranch that will serve as a reminder that I’ve managed to turn my life into a total train wreck.
Tears stream down my face. I never let myself cry over him before. Back then, I shook it off and pretended like I wasn’t breaking apart when I left.
Pissed at myself and this entire situation, I try to yank my sleeve out of his grasp. But he pulls me in, wrapping his arms around me, tight enough that I can’t escape. I fight my body’s reaction to being held by him. Every muscle is tight. Every nerve ending is on high alert.
His eyes sweep over me, shoulders tightening before his hands fall away. He grips the back of his neck, those stormy grey eyes filling with grief as he takes a step back, putting space between us again. “Whatever you need, I’ll do it. I’m just not sure—I don’t love having to lie to our family.”
“You don’t have to lie. They’re not gonna bring it up.”
“All Mercer can talk about is figuring out a way to get you home for the summer.”
“Fine, but they’re not going to assume that I’m hiding in the cabin with you. Why would I?”
Clay rubs his forehead. “Leni…”
“It’s no different than you pretending I didn’t find you ten years ago.” I cross my arms over my chest, one hip jutting out to the side.
“I—what?” He looks confused. “You didn’t tell them you found me?”
“No. Did they ever ask about it?”
“No.” His brow furrows, eyes narrowing. “I thought…I guess I thought that they knew you saw me, but you obviously didn’t tell them all the details. I thought I was getting off easy by them not giving me shit about it.”
I snort. “In what world would they not have interrogated you about me showing up to see you? You had to know, had to at least suspect that they didn’t know.”
He taps his fingers on his thigh, brows drawn close in concentration as he works it out in his head. “You lied. But why? Mercer said you got hurt on your way back home. I assumed he knew?—”
“Right,” I cut him off. My throat tightens, chest constricting like a boulder pressing down on me. Sometimes, I forget what really happened on that trip. I’ve told the lie so many times, I’ve started to believe it. The panic always takes me by surprise when the memory tries to break through, looking for purchase.Do not go there, Leni.It’s in thepast.“Listen, I told Merc on Monday I wouldn’t be back this summer. I don’t see why he’d even bring me up. It’s not like you, and I have talked recently, and you barely see the others during the week anyway, right?”
Clayton hesitates, like he’s not quite sure that will be the case, then sighs. “Yeah, okay. How long are we talking, though? Because lying by omission to Merc is one thing, but Ma…”
I chuckle, letting myself relax and take in the space. It’s the same cozy cabin I left behind, minus the unmistakably hot guy scent that is clearly coming from him. Like one of the spicy, earthy candles you’d purchase at the store.
