"I can rush it if you want. But it won't be as sturdy."
"No." She shook her head. "Do it right. I just..." She trailed off. Looked down at her plate.
"You want me gone," I said. Not accusatory. It was a fact.
Her eyes snapped back to mine. "I didn't say that."
Cal cleared his throat. "I'm going to get more water. Anyone need anything?"
Neither of us answered. Cal retreated to the kitchen, leaving us alone at the table.
The silence stretched.
"I don't want you gone," Daisy said quietly. "I want to understand."
My chest tightened. "Understand what?"
"You." She set down her fork and looked at me with those eyes that had haunted me for eight years. "The Knox I knew would have shown up. He would have fought for what he wanted. He would have at least explained." Her voice cracked, and she steadied it. "What happened to that guy?"
The truth sat on my tongue. Impossible to swallow.
Cal happened. Your future happened. The certainty that I'd ruin your life if I stayed.
I couldn't say any of that. Not here. Not with Cal fifteen feet away, pretending to refill a water glass that was already full.
"He grew up," I said instead. "Realized some things weren't meant to be."
Daisy flinched. Small, quick, gone in an instant. But I saw it.
"Right," she said. "Some things weren't meant to be."
She stood, gathered her plate, and walked to the kitchen without looking back.
Conversation over.
I sat there, hating myself, hating the lie, and hating the distance between us that I'd created and couldn't close.
Cal came back to the table and set down his water glass. He looked at me with an expression I couldn't read.
"You should go," he said quietly. "Early day tomorrow."
I nodded as I stood and grabbed my jacket from the back of the chair.
"Thanks for dinner," I said to the room at large.
No one answered.
I let myself out.
Outside, the night was cool and clear, stars scattered across the sky. I sat in my truck for a long moment, forehead against the steering wheel, breathing through the ache in my chest.
What happened to that guy?
She wanted to know. She was asking. And I was sitting here, feeding her half-truths and watching her pull further away.
This was supposed to be easier. I was supposed to build a deck, keep my distance, survive the next few weeks without breaking. Instead, I'd eaten dinner at her table and listened to her ask the one question I couldn't answer.
I started the truck and pulled out of the driveway.