CASSIDY LIFTED HER Canon Rebel T5i, sighted through its viewfinder and snapped pictures of worn garments swaying from a clothesline stretched between abandoned factory buildings. Despite the frigid morning temperature, shouting children played keep-away with a can. Some didn’t wear coats, others were missing hats and gloves. A couple were in stocking feet. Her throat swelled at the juxtaposition of innocence and desperation, joy and despair.
It’d been two weeks before she’d been able to coordinate a date for her and Daryl to document struggling Westerners left behind by relocating manufacturing plants. Her blood fired, despite the chill in the air. She sensed the deeper story: proud workers stuck in the industrial past, unable to find their place in the technological present.
She blinked stinging eyes. So much for staying detached...but among her own people, she felt more connected than ever to her subjects and their suffering. The need to tell their story clenched her belly and gripped her heart. America had the second-highest poverty rate among rich countries. A living example of a wrong in need of being made right stood before her.
“This isn’t legal,” Daryl cautioned beside her, clicking away on his old college Canon.
Despite his warning, his voice crackled with energy. Fire. This was the Daryl she remembered, intense, focused, passionate. He was as affected by this human tragedy as she. Yet the new, mature Daryl, who admitted his imperfections and accepted them in himself and others, drew her just as much. He balanced his work with his family, something she’d never been able to do.
“Trespassing? Since when has that ever stopped us?” Cassidy trained her camera on a group of men hunched around a rusted barrel. They held their hands over the dancing flames inside it, their lined faces gray with exhaustion and poor health. The stench of burning rubber and garbage stung her nose. “Besides, don’t we have connections with the county sheriff?”
“Travis doesn’t have jurisdiction here.” Daryl swapped his lens for a wider angle and began firing off shots of the entire tableau, the playing children in the foreground, their weary parents watching in the background, the wasteland of the factory looming over them all.
“We can handle ourselves.” She clicked a photo of the building’s crumbling brick exterior and the inlaid granite sign reading Great Western Sugar Co.
“Let’s talk to them.” Daryl lowered his camera and nodded at the men who’d been casting wary glances their way. “We need to hear their story.”
She nodded, pleased by his zeal. “You sound like a photojournalist, not a rancher.”
“I’m a human being.” Daryl stowed his camera. “No one should live in these conditions. Especially children.”
“Agreed.”
He stopped her. “Thank you for bringing me. For showing me what I’ve been missing.”
A lump clogged her throat. “And what’s that?”
“Life,” he said simply.
Together they approached the adults and a sense of déjà vu overwhelmed her.
On their first assignment for their college newspaper, she and Daryl had teamed up. They’d planned to investigate rumors of undocumented workers who’d been falsely promised good jobs in America, then been forced to work without pay or risk deportation. When Daryl discovered children working alongside their parents with dangerous equipment, he’d transformed from laid-back cowboy to avenging citizen. He called Border Patrol and the American Civil Liberties Union, confronted the owner, then restrained the man when he tried escaping.
Throughout the ordeal, Daryl remained calm, cheering up the petrified kids while agents and lawyers spoke to their parents. Watching him clown around for the children, pulling smiles from them, had been endearing and one of the most beautiful acts of humanity she’d ever witnessed. In that instant, she’d thought: You’ll be the father of my children someday.
How wrong she’d been.
“Howdy,” Daryl said to the men, pulling her from her thoughts. “I’m Daryl Loveland and this is Cassidy Fulton. Can we trouble you for a few minutes of your time?”
“We’d like to ask you a few questions,” Cassidy added.
“Are you cops?” One of them was quite young, Cassidy realized. Weary eyes said he was eighteen going on a hundred.
“No.” Daryl blew on his hands, then extended them over the fire.
“CPS?” asked another man, referring to Child Protective Services.
“We’re investigative journalists.” White plumed the air as Cassidy spoke.
“You’re what?” A man with grayish teeth curled his lip.
Daryl removed a flask from his coat pocket and passed it to Gray Teeth. “She writes stories for magazines.”
“Him, too,” Cassidy hurried to add, referencing Daryl’s past. He shot her a surprised glance.
“I’m just a rancher,” he deflected.
“More than that,” she countered. Remember who you used to be, she urged silently.
“Hey. This ain’t bad,” one of the men said, tipping back the flask. “How much of this you got?”
“Enough.” Daryl glanced over his shoulder at his truck and she recalled the large jug in its bed... He’d brought along a bribe. Impressive.
“Well.” Another man rubbed his hands together. “Now we’re talking.”
“I hope so.” Cassidy fished out her cell phone, indicating the recording app. “Do you mind?” After a few hesitant nods, she hit the record button. “Can you tell us how you came to live here?”
“Don’t have no other place to go.” An older woman joined them. She had salt-and-pepper hair in a low bun and a stern chin. “My husband used to work here till they shut down the place in ’98. Couldn’t find any other work. When we lost our home, we came out here.”
The rest repeated a version of the same story, their tongues loosening as the flask wove through the group.
“Why not go to a shelter? Apply for social services?” Cassidy asked.
“We don’t take handouts.” A man with a faded John Deere cap shoved his shoulders back. “We want work, that’s all.”
The group nodded, their expressions fierce. Proud.
The John Deere cap guy handed over the flask and Cassidy accepted it in solidarity. She tipped it back, then gasped, choking when liquid fire hit the back of her throat. Daryl thumped her on the back, grinning. A round of guffaws rang in the chilly air. “But if there’re no jobs,” she wheezed once her eyes stopped watering, “then why not relocate to another state?”
“I was born here,” the woman said simply. “This is my home. My people.”
Cassidy nodded. Their jobs may have abandoned them, but they wouldn’t abandon this place. Misplaced loyalty? Fear of the unknown? Or something more primal she understood the longer she stayed in Carbondale? You didn’t put down roots. They wove into the fabric of your soul and connected you to your home, wherever you traveled.
“What about health care? Education for the children?” Daryl accepted his flask and pocketed it.
“We take care of our kids,” the man with gray teeth said flatly.
“Darn right, Russ,” the older woman said.
“Are they immunized?” Cassidy pressed.
“Thought you said you weren’t with CPS?” The woman’s jaw squared.
“We’re not, though we’d like to help.”
The woman threw up her hands. “You think we don’t want what every parent wants for their kids? We may not have fancy clothes or computers or such, but we’re doing the best we can.”
“I drive ’em to the bus stop every day,” supplied another man. On closer inspection, he wore an auto body shop uniform.
“Tori, the redheaded one over there—” the woman pointed to one of the children “—she just won the school spelling bee and all our kids get attendance awards every year.”
“And they’ve been immunized at the clinic.” A young mother joined them carrying a baby on her hip.
“What do you do for money? Food?”
“Sell scrap metal from buildings like this, odd jobs, anything we can get.” The man named Russ pointed at the auto body guy. “Jack keeps our old generator going so we can run the stove, refrigerator and heat.”
Cassidy eyed young Jack. “Ever thought about getting your own place? You’ve got a steady job.”
“My family’s here. I couldn’t afford a place and help out.”
“We don’t want much,” said John Deere cap guy. “Just jobs and community.”
“Ever worked in an apple orchard?” Cassidy mused out loud, earning her a surprised, and approving, look from Daryl.
The man pulled off his cap and scratched his balding head. “Picking apples?”
“And other crops for a country store. Plus, we need help driving wagons and making cider.” They’d been struggling to keep up with the greater-than-expected flow of customers. The Lovelands and Cades, busy with ranching, were exhausted from splitting their time. The store made enough to hire a few employees, and this hard-hit group looked deserving and capable.
They exchanged long looks, and cautious smiles crept across their faces. “We’re not afraid to get our hands dirty.”
“We’ve got an old pickup we could loan you to drive back and forth,” Daryl offered.
“Thank you kindly,” said Russ. “This calls for a celebration! Where’s some more of that moonshine?”
A growling engine approached and cut off their cheers. Car doors creaked open followed by thudding boots. When Cassidy turned, she spied a group of young men with shaved hair and facial scruff storming their way.
“Who the hell are these two?” demanded what appeared to be their leader. He sported a strip of hair that began at his low brow line and ended midway down his neck.
“What’s it to you?” Daryl growled. His massive hands balled at his sides. He stepped between the new arrivals and the factory residents.
The leader cast a wary eye over Daryl’s large frame. “This is our turf and we’ve come to collect the rent.”
“We don’t have all of it yet,” said Russ, his face ashen. “But Jack here’s getting paid next week and—”
The leader signaled his two goons, who strode to Russ. Without preamble, they punched him hard enough to drop him, then hauled back their heavy work boots to kick him.
The children’s noisy play ceased; everyone held their collective breath.
The sound of a gun being cocked split the quiet. “Back off, now!” rasped Daryl.
To her shock, he trained a handgun on the two sidekicks. Colorado was a concealed carry state, and she supposed she should have guessed Daryl would have brought his gun along... She certainly was glad he had.
The men scuttled away, and Russ gasped on the ground, spitting up blood.
Cassidy stumbled when someone grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked her backward. The group’s leader pressed the cold tip of a knife to her temple. “Drop the gun or this pretty lady won’t be so pretty anymore.”
Daryl’s stormy eyes met hers, then rose to the man holding her captive. His expression promised death. “If you hurt her, I will kill you.”
His calm tone only made his words more lethal. Her heart skittered in her chest. She’d never been in a hostage situation like this before, but she’d witnessed enough. A positive outcome wasn’t a guarantee by any stretch. Why had she dragged Daryl into this? He had two children at home already missing one parent. If anything happened to him...
The leader tightened his grip, and she bit her cheek to keep from crying out. “Drop the gun,” he snarled. “Or we’ll take this little honey back to our place for some fun.”
His accomplices guffawed, a harsh, grating sound. Crows over a kill.
Daryl’s gaze bored into her and he seemed to communicate something... Not so much words as a feeling, an assurance to trust him...which she did, despite his past betrayal.
She trusted him with her life.
Daryl slowly lowered the gun to the ground, then dived forward and knocked her captor off his feet. Instinctively, she lunged, snatched up the gun and trained it on the two goons. They halted their headlong rush to help their struggling leader.
He and Daryl grappled on the ground, the knife flashing between them. In a blur of movement, Daryl swatted the knife away and punched the leader out cold. Cassidy nearly cried with relief when Daryl stood, unharmed, and hustled her way. He’d defended her, reacting as quickly and efficiently as a military person in a foreign country, putting his life on the line.
“Call 911.” He retrieved his gun and pointed it at the thugs. “On the ground,” he barked.
A couple of hours later, after finishing their witness statements, Daryl and Cassidy strode from the sheriff’s office.
“Thank you, Daryl,” she said once they hopped in his truck. “You saved my life.”
He cupped the side of her face, leaned close and brushed her lips with a heart-stopping kiss so brief she could have imagined it. Dreamed it. Maybe she had. If so, she didn’t want to wake from this adrenaline-fueled moment. Or lose it.
She slid her mouth over his before he moved away, savoring the mint of his breath. It was irresistible; he was irresistible. With a groan, he thrust his fingers in her hair, then dropped them to her shoulders, pressing her close. A whimper emerged from her throat, a wordless plea. In answer, he kissed her back, slowly at first, as if rediscovering a once-familiar place, its shape and texture, the old rhythms returning. Then he opened her lips, and the caress grew more intense, ardent. It consumed her deliciously. She thought of nothing but the kiss and the strength of the arms holding her. They made her feel safe. Comforted. Her heart beat faster. Her breath quickened, and she wanted the moment to never end. It was easy to become lost in his tenderness, in his humble heart, his sensitive soul.
She ignored the worry teasing the back of her mind, warning her that this was a mistake. She was here, she was happy for once, and his mouth felt as natural to hers as if she’d been kissing him for years, without a decade apart, without her sister, her career, life coming between them.
She let the kiss continue a little longer and deeper before catching herself. By kissing him, she revealed her returning emotions, feelings best kept to herself. She pulled back, trembling, realizing his body shook just as hard. When their mouths came apart, he leaned his forehead against hers and his chest rose and fell, fast and hard.
“No need for thanks,” he said quietly, his words little more than a ragged breath. “You’ve saved my life, too.”
“PA’S FAMOUS!” EMMA twirled through the living room holding the local newspaper aloft. Pictures Daryl had taken of the factory residents filled the top half of the front page with Cassidy’s freelance article running beneath it. Happiness burst inside him, bright as fireworks, when Cassidy turned wearing an approving smile. Since their mind-blowing kiss last week, he’d been unable to stop thinking, wanting, hungering to repeat it, despite the fact he shouldn’t have given in to the adrenaline-fueled impulse in the first darn place.
“I don’t know about famous.” Daryl returned his attention to his macaroni and cheese casserole and spooned cooked elbows into a buttered baking dish. Cassidy had challenged him to a cook-off for tonight’s supper and he was determined to win.
“Daryl Loveland and Cassidy Fulton.” Emma squinted down at the paper. “Your names are in the paper. That makes you stars.”
“You and Noah are the stars.” Cassidy poured milk into a saucepan on the cooktop, added shredded cheddar cheese and stirred it with a wooden spoon. “You’re expanding Many Hands, Doing Good to help.”
Since the article’s publication yesterday, their phone had been ringing off the hook, the community spurred to action.
“It’s what Mama would want.” Emma laid the paper on the kitchen island and carefully smoothed the center crease.
“She’d be very proud.” Daryl set down the milk he’d been pouring over the pasta and swept Noah and Emma into a bear hug. It pulled them off their feet, squealing, and his heart swelled with pride at how they’d stepped up to lend a hand.
Emma and Noah eagerly assisted him and Cassidy in coordinating with other ranches to bring fresh produce to the struggling families. They were even planning a Halloween-themed fund-raiser event to raise money for their housing. Cassidy raised their social conscience and opened his eyes in other ways, too. Life was an adventure to her, not just something endured. She made him want to make a difference rather than mark time as he had with Leanne. He felt like a traitor for thinking it, but he couldn’t deny the truth.
Cassidy challenged him by breaking him from his comfort zone. With her, he stretched in new directions and wanted to take chances with his life—and maybe even his heart. Cassidy hadn’t mentioned returning to her job lately, and her revelation about deciding to choose him over her career years ago still rocked him.
Perhaps not everyone he loved would leave him...although, the reason for Leanne’s abandonment kept him up nights. They’d stayed together but had grown apart, proving that leaving your partner could be emotional distance, not just physical.
“I bet you my allowance Aunt Cassidy’s mac-n-cheese will win, Noah.” Emma peered up at Cassidy as she dumped butter into the saucepan.
“No fair!” Noah kicked a couple of fallen noodles in Beuford’s direction. The dog snapped them up without bothering to open his eyes. “Pa always puts in too much butter and milk.”
“No, I don’t,” Daryl protested, assessing his macaroni-to-cheese-to-milk ratio. The noodles clung to the wooden spoon as he swirled it through the mix, and he added more liquid.
“See!” Noah hopped on a stool and spun himself in a circle. “He just did it.”
“You should follow a recipe like Aunt Cassidy.” Emma picked up the cookbook beside the stove.
“I’d rather eyeball it.” Yes. Definitely more milk, Daryl assessed, adding another quick pour.
“Then you’d better check your vision because I’m—” Cassidy dumped her cheesy milk mixture over her noodles “—going to beat your butt.”
“Er,” Daryl interjected, “you’re going to beat my butter.”
“Nuh-uh!” Emma grabbed the swear jar. “Aunt Cassidy said butt, so she owes a quarter.”
“So do you for saying butt, butthead.” Noah giggled so hard he snorted.
“I’ve got this.” Cassidy deposited five quarters, grinning. “Buttheads.”
Noah crashed to the floor in a convulsion of laughter loud enough to rouse Beuford. He lifted his head, woofed, then hauled himself to his feet.
“I love you, Aunt Cassidy.” Emma flung her arms around Cassidy’s waist. “Please don’t leave us.”
“Yeah!” Noah piled on and Beuford sniffed around Cassidy’s ankles.
“Oh—I—uh...” Her eyes met Daryl’s, a plea in them, and he banged his wooden spoon against the side of the casserole dish.
“Time’s up. All entries in the first-ever Loveland Mac-N-Cheese Bake-Off must be in the oven or be disqualified.”
“Hurry, Aunt Cassidy!” Emma grabbed one end of the dish.
“I want to help!” Noah gripped the opposite handle, and to Beuford’s everlasting delight the contents tipped to the kitchen floor in a lumpy mess.
“Ohhhhhhh...noooooo,” howled Noah. “Sorry, Aunt Cassidy.”
Beuford slurped up the cheesy noodles in noisy gulps.
“Now we’re going to have to eat Pa’s icky mac-n-cheese.” Emma cast a hasty look his way. “Sorry, Pa. And sorry, Aunt Cassidy, for making you lose.”
“It’s okay. You were only trying to help.” Cassidy hurried to the broom closet and returned with a mop.
“Beuford’s got it!” Noah pointed to the already half-cleared floor. “Pa says he’s better than a garbage disposal.”
“Aunt Cassidy doesn’t have to lose.” Daryl eyed his casserole. “She can help with mine...even though it’s already perfect.”
“Ha!” His pulse sped at Cassidy’s teasing smile. She ambled closer and peered down at his mix. “Are you making macaroni soup?”
“I beg your pardon,” he replied, mock-offended.
Emma and Noah giggled.
“Emma and Noah,” Cassidy ordered. “Start spooning out the excess fluid.” She grabbed a cereal bowl from a cabinet and set it next to the baking dish. “Daryl, grate more cheese.”
“Yes, ma’am,” they chorused and labored as Cassidy cleaned the floor. Within minutes, they had the proportions to her liking. Daryl pretended to stumble carrying it to the oven.
“Pa!” Emma squealed, biffing his arm once he’d safely deposited it in the oven. “No more Clumsy the Clown. We’re not little kids anymore.”
For some reason, his eyes stung at the comment. He wrapped his arms around them both, pulling them close. Someday they’d grow up and leave him...and he’d be on his own. Alone. “No matter how big you get, you’ll always be my kids.”
Noah and Emma squirmed away, and he caught Cassidy’s tender stare. Not a word was spoken, but he sensed she understood him and in that understanding, he felt less alone. The children’s pleas returned to him as he set the oven timer. He added his own silent one.
Please don’t leave us, Cassidy.
Three hours later, he and Cassidy stood beside Emma’s bed, the sound soother set to ocean waves, the clock projecting the time on her ceiling.
“That was your best mac-n-cheese, Pa,” she murmured sleepily.
“That’s because we did it together.” He grabbed the empty water glass on her nightstand. “Everything’s better when you do it together.”
Cassidy nodded and the light in her green eyes melted his heart.
“Can you tuck me in like a mermaid?” Emma asked without opening her eyes.
“Ariel or Madison?” he clarified. Splash and The Little Mermaid were Emma’s favorite movies.
“Madison,” she sighed.
He tucked the blankets around her legs and stepped back. “Night, Madison.”
“Sea you later.” Emma cracked open one eye. “Get it? Sea?”
“I sea what you did there.” Daryl ruffled her hair. “And I still love you, despite your horrible puns.”
“Same, even Clumsy the Clown.” Emma’s lashes fell to her cheeks, and he and Cassidy quietly let themselves out of her room.
“I used to love Splash when I was a kid,” Cassidy said when she dropped onto the couch. “I loved the idea of being able to become someone else.”
“You weren’t happy with who you were?”
“It’s more like my father wasn’t satisfied unless I was successful, achieving great things.”
“All parents want the best for their children.”
“True. And I never really thought about it until now...but seeing you with Emma and Noah, I think I missed out on something important.”
“What?”
“Unconditional love.”
I loved you, he thought. Unconditionally.
“I wanted so much to please him, to live up to his expectations and pay him back for the sacrifices he made to get me to college.” Cassidy fingered the sofa throw blanket’s fringe.
“You felt like you owed him.”
“I do owe him.” Her hands bunched the fabric. “If not for my father, I wouldn’t be successful.”
“Who defines success for you?” he challenged. “Your father or you?”
She opened her mouth but remained silent, processing. “I—I never thought about it before.”
“Maybe you should,” he said, finally understanding what drove Cassidy, why she’d never be satisfied with an ordinary life.
He’d been naive to expect her to be happy settling down with him. It was just as stupid to expect anything more from her now. Cassidy was who she was. An adventurer. And he was who he was—rooted, traditional, a family man.
How she found it in her big heart to have not only forgiven him, but to stay and help his family grieve, he’d never understand, though it didn’t surprise him. She’d always put others ahead of herself and she would have done the same ten years ago by putting aside her dream to settle in Carbondale with him. He was no one’s sacrifice, though. She’d said she might have been happy here, but what if she hadn’t? He would have made her as miserable as he’d made Leanne.
Cassidy screwed up her features in a thoughtful expression. “Maybe I should consider it,” she agreed slowly.
As they stared into the fireplace’s glowing embers, he listened to her quiet breathing, felt the soft brush of her arm against his, inhaled the delicate floral scent of her shampoo. He wanted to gather her in his arms and kiss her again. Hold her. Lose himself in her as he had last week, but his wedding picture above the mantel caught his eye. He could not betray Leanne. Other than her unexplained suitcase in the Jeep and her frequent girls’ nights, she’d been loyal to him, even if they’d been unhappy.
“Why didn’t you ever tell me you were adopted?”
He turned at Cassidy’s question and their noses brushed. For a long moment he considered possible answers and went with the truth. “I wanted you to think I was a Loveland.”
“You are a Loveland.”
“Not always. I used to be Daryl Clemmons.”
She ran a hand down his arm, her face pinched with concern. “When did your parents pass away?”
“They didn’t.”
Cassidy drew back, eyes round. “I’m sorry. I just assumed...”
“It’s okay. Most people don’t expect parents to not want their children.”
“Daryl... How could they not want you?”
A weight settled on his chest, heavy enough to crush his breath. “They cared more about drugs. They were always on the move, looking for the next fix.”
“How awful. Were you glad to leave them?”
“Mostly I was just glad to be rescued.”
“Rescued?”
He stared down at his clasped hands. “When I was seven, they drove to a house and left me inside the car. They said they’d be right back. It was night and I must have fallen asleep. When I woke up, snow covered the car. There must have been a blizzard because I couldn’t open the door. When I tried to break the window with a hammer, it recoiled and hit me here.” He pointed to the C-shaped scar at his temple.
“That’s terrifying!” Cassidy exclaimed.
“I was bleeding and didn’t have anything to eat. There was half a bottle of water, but I finished it by the end of the first day.”
“First day?” Her voice rose. “How long were you trapped?”
“When the sheriff found me, he said I’d been in there for three days.”
“I can’t believe you didn’t freeze to death.”
“We had an old wool blanket in the back seat. And I had a coat. Plus, the snow kept the windchill from having an effect.”
“And where were your parents all that time?”
“In jail, strung out. My mother had overdosed, and my father was passed out when neighbors called the cops. They couldn’t remember their names let alone that they had a son.”
“Monsters,” Cassidy whispered. “They should never have had children.”
“Child Protective Services agreed. The sheriff at the time, Emmitt Loveland, had me stitched up, then asked his cousin Boyd to put me up until they found a place for me. When a spot opened in foster care, Boyd decided to keep me instead and that’s how I became a Loveland.”
“You went through so much.”
“I only ever wanted to stay in one place. To have parents who came home every night. A stable family, which is why...”
“Why?” she prompted when he paused.
It felt like he swallowed crushed glass, his throat raw and scraped. “When I found out Leanne was pregnant, I had to do the right thing. I wanted to give my child the stable family I always wanted, even if it meant letting go of the only person in my life I’d ever loved...unconditionally.”
She closed her eyes, as if she took his words into her heart to keep, then slowly opened them again. Tears dripped down her cheeks. When he brushed the wet away with his thumbs, Cassidy caught his hand and pressed a kiss to his palm.
Her lips moved against his skin as she said, “I loved you, too. Unconditionally. But you made the right choice. If you hadn’t, I would have made it for you. But stability doesn’t guarantee happiness... You and Leanne were having issues.”
They looked into each other’s eyes and Daryl felt the earth shift. He wanted to tell her how much he’d missed her. That he was happy to have her back in his life again, despite his devastating loss, but he was too afraid of ruining things to voice that thought. Hell, he was too afraid to even have that thought. “I still don’t know what happened.”
“But you weren’t happy. Or Leanne. Were the children?”
He shook his head, mute, thinking back to the year and a half leading up to the accident, the uncertainty of Leanne’s whereabouts, her withdrawal, the kids’ questions: Where’s Mama? Is she coming home? Does she love us? Are we bad?
Cassidy threaded her fingers through his hair, and his breath caught at her touch. A deep yearning gripped him. A need to pour himself into her. “I’m sorry, Daryl.”
“Don’t pity me,” he whispered, his voice hoarse.
“I don’t. I admire you.” Her green eyes burned into his. “Despite everything you’ve gone through, you’re an incredible father and you’re giving your children a strong foundation.”
“I drove Leanne away.”
“We don’t know that.”
“I couldn’t make her happy...not as long as I still loved you.”
“But those feelings changed. Ended.”
“I wanted them to,” he blurted, the words base-jumping off his tongue without a safety net, his heart overruling his brain. “I did everything I could to forget you, but I couldn’t. There’s a hole in me where you used to be. Every day since you left, I’ve walked around it and fallen into it each night. I’ve missed you like hell.”
“Don’t.” She leaped to her feet and backed away, her expression stricken. “Don’t say anything else.”
“Why?” he asked when she reached the bedroom door, though he knew the answer. He just wasn’t ready to let her go.
Same story, different time.
“Because I’m afraid of what I might say back,” she whispered before slipping through the door.
He stared at the dying fire’s embers, his heart beating erratically as he mulled her words. Cassidy was right. Stability didn’t guarantee happiness. Love did. And even then, it only made life’s struggles worth battling.
The question was—how long did you keep fighting?