He took that as an in. I knew it when he pressed deeper and his face got closer.

So I moved to end it.

“You’re not the man for me, Ren, and I’m not the woman for you. We’re done and when I say that it is not a Rock Chick done where you can be badass or cool or whatever and talk me into changing my mind. I mean that in an Ally Nightingale way, where I know what I want and I’ve found the path that leads to a future that’s exciting to me. So when I say we’re done, I mean we’re done.”

With that, I pulled away, sliding out from in front of him and walking quickly up the stairs.

I had not had time to scatter my shit to the four corners of Ren’s house.

Which was good.

It meant what I had to gather took little time.

But it didn’t matter.

Because I barely hit his bedroom before I heard the front door slamming.

When I had it all gathered, I went to the window and looked down to see the Jag was gone.

So the coast was clear.

Nevertheless, I wasted no time double checking that I had absolutely everything.

And then I got the f**k out of there.

Chapter Seventeen

You’re Ally. And I’m Ren.

I opened my eyes and stared at the early morning light peeking through Daisy’s curtains.

I knew I hadn’t slept long. This was because I cried most of the night.

Yes. Me.

But I did it in Daisy’s pillow so she nor Marcus would hear.

When I arrived the night before, she took one look at me and gave me space. That was, she took me to a room, asked my preference and brought me a glass and a bottle of tequila.

Then she touched my cheek and whispered, “We’ll talk in the mornin’, sugar.”

She closed the door on her way out.

I didn’t take even a sip of her top shelf tequila.

I’d never been heartbroken, not like this, but I’d stood behind a bar countless times listening to those who were. And I’d noted, repeatedly, imbibing didn’t much help. Although that had been my preliminary plan, with the bottle and glass available to me, I instead chose the pillow and giving myself the opportunity to let loose the shit crawling inside me in an effort to get it out.

This didn’t much help either.

I’d had two calls in that time. One from Indy, the other from Roxie.

This meant Daisy nor Hank and Lee had shared with anybody, except my brothers told their wives. But Indy and Roxie told nobody. If they had, my phone would never quit ringing and The Castle (or Daisy’s house, which looked like a castle; no joke, complete with moat), would be descended on by Rock Chicks.

I was grateful for that, so much you wouldn’t believe. And I texted both Indy and Roxie to tell them I’d connect with them later, I needed some time, and they texted back that they’d give that to me.

By the way, Ren had not phoned. He had also not scaled the wall and broken in the window in order to press his suit.

This was not a surprise. I’d been pretty inflexible with the way I ended things.

But this meant I definitely wasn’t a Rock Chick. None of their men ever gave up.

That wasn’t bitching. It was just an observation that didn’t feel real great. Anyway, with the way I felt, I was glad Ren didn’t do this. This was mostly because, when I had time to let myself feel all the things I was feeling, I knew if he came back to me and pushed it, I’d cave.

Again.

Yes. Me.

Ally.

Caving.

That was how much I loved him.

So I told myself maybe it indicated how much he loved me that he was going to let me go, which was the only way he could give me what I needed.

And although this thought was cool (kind of, in a rip your heart out way), it didn’t make me feel any better, mostly because it ripped my heart out.

But now was now and I had a day to face.

I also had money to make. I had to find somewhere to live. And I had to find a way to get through Luke and Ava’s rehearsal and dinner without totally losing it in front of everybody.

So I got up, got a shower, sorted through my bags and got ready.

I did this being careful. Not externally. Internally.

I was vulnerable. I knew this.

Yes, me.

Ally.

But I was.

I’d been shown the life I wanted. Tasted the fairytale. Then I let it slip away from me. I had doubts, second thoughts, and carried pain you wouldn’t believe. Hell, I didn’t even believe it.

So I had to forge ahead but handle me with care.

And that was what I was going to be doing.

My first trial was when I hit Daisy’s huge kitchen to find Daisy at the counter beating something in a bowl and Smithie and Shirleen sitting at Daisy’s kitchen table.

All eyes came to me and I knew they knew.

Whatever.

“Yo,” I greeted, strolling in.

“Ally,” Smithie replied, eyes never leaving me.

“Come sit by Shirleen, child,” Shirleen called, also keeping her gaze locked on me.

“You want pancakes, sugar?” Daisy asked as I moved toward the table.

I didn’t. The idea of food made me want to hurl.

“Sure,” I said and walked right up to Smithie.

Then I leaned in and kissed his cheek, muttering a distracted, “Hey,” as I moved around him and did the same with Shirleen.

After that, I sat down.

I looked out the window knowing that these people were nuts, but they loved me and they’d be careful with me. It’d be far easier to handle if they acted normally. But they were too kind to even think of doing that.

Therefore, I was bracing.

And in bracing, I didn’t see Daisy, Shirleen and Smithie giving each other wide-eyed looks.

“Uh… Ally,” Daisy called.

I tore my eyes away from the window and my mind away from noting there were ducks in her moat and I looked at her.

“Yeah?”

“Know you had a tough night, honey bunch, but Shirleen and Smithie are here for a reason,” she told me.

Fabulous.

I looked between them and asked, “Which one first?”

“Me,” Shirleen said so I focused my attention on her. When I did, she didn’t delay in declaring, “Your brother declines cases.”

My head jerked.

I didn’t expect to hear this. Demands to know what happened between Ren and me. Or how Ren wasn’t good enough for me. Or alternately how I should maybe give it more than three days of together together before I ended us. Or just kindness, and maybe sympathy.

Not a random detail about my brother’s business.

“Okay,” I replied cautiously.

“He does what he does. In other words, he makes decisions and doesn’t share why with me. But I see a pattern,” she went on. “He declines when we have a full caseload and the boys are stretched to the max. Usually, though, he declines if it isn’t enough of a challenge for their badasses to bother with.”