Page 65
Story: Dealbreaker
I don’t want her to be sad.
“I bet he did,” she says, still laughing. “And I’m so damned glad he was himself enough to do it.”
I suck in a breath.
“So, you didn’t mess up, honey. He’s a protector, through and through, and hates what you endured. But he’s not mad at you—not really.”
He’s mad at Dylan.
And that I was hurt.
“I know,” I say and I mean it. “I just…he’s been so great. I hate that I hurt him, even a little bit.”
“Because you’re a good person.”
Stated so matter-of-factly that it penetrates deep, settles right around my heart.
I’ve always heard how bad I am, how incapable, how pathetic. But not good. Never good.
And yet, this wonderful woman states it so easily.
Maybe that’s why I can believe it.
But even as I’m accepting that, I know it’s not just Briar’s statement. It’s Hudson. His faith, his patience, his kindness, all working together to make it so I can hold those words close, can tuck them inside me and keep them safe.
“You are too,” I murmur.
We’re both quiet for a couple of seconds but then I hear Frankie’s voice in the background.
“Your moment of quiet is over?” I ask lightly.
A beleaguered sigh—but it’s filled with amusement. “Apparently.”
“Before you go,” I say. “I did have just one more question…”
Twenty-One
Dash
Something delicious hits my nostrils the minute I come through the door, and my feet propel me toward the kitchen. I don’t know what’s cooking but I hope it’s done because it’s been a long day and I’m tired, starving, and a little frustrated.
I was mad earlier but now that I’ve had time to think, I understand why she flinched. Why she needs more time—and probably a fuck ton of therapy—to move past the emotional and physical abuse Dylan put her through. Years of abuse isn’t going to disappear overnight, and I have to remember that.
And give us both a little grace.
“Hi.” She whirls as I walk into the kitchen, but there’s no fear in her eyes now.
Now all I see is…regret?
I hate that too.
“Hey. I just wanted—” I begin.
“I need to—” She starts talking at the same time.
We both smile.
“Ladies first,” I say politely.
“I bet he did,” she says, still laughing. “And I’m so damned glad he was himself enough to do it.”
I suck in a breath.
“So, you didn’t mess up, honey. He’s a protector, through and through, and hates what you endured. But he’s not mad at you—not really.”
He’s mad at Dylan.
And that I was hurt.
“I know,” I say and I mean it. “I just…he’s been so great. I hate that I hurt him, even a little bit.”
“Because you’re a good person.”
Stated so matter-of-factly that it penetrates deep, settles right around my heart.
I’ve always heard how bad I am, how incapable, how pathetic. But not good. Never good.
And yet, this wonderful woman states it so easily.
Maybe that’s why I can believe it.
But even as I’m accepting that, I know it’s not just Briar’s statement. It’s Hudson. His faith, his patience, his kindness, all working together to make it so I can hold those words close, can tuck them inside me and keep them safe.
“You are too,” I murmur.
We’re both quiet for a couple of seconds but then I hear Frankie’s voice in the background.
“Your moment of quiet is over?” I ask lightly.
A beleaguered sigh—but it’s filled with amusement. “Apparently.”
“Before you go,” I say. “I did have just one more question…”
Twenty-One
Dash
Something delicious hits my nostrils the minute I come through the door, and my feet propel me toward the kitchen. I don’t know what’s cooking but I hope it’s done because it’s been a long day and I’m tired, starving, and a little frustrated.
I was mad earlier but now that I’ve had time to think, I understand why she flinched. Why she needs more time—and probably a fuck ton of therapy—to move past the emotional and physical abuse Dylan put her through. Years of abuse isn’t going to disappear overnight, and I have to remember that.
And give us both a little grace.
“Hi.” She whirls as I walk into the kitchen, but there’s no fear in her eyes now.
Now all I see is…regret?
I hate that too.
“Hey. I just wanted—” I begin.
“I need to—” She starts talking at the same time.
We both smile.
“Ladies first,” I say politely.
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