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Hayden’s grin was ruthless. “She was so much more than that once,” she breathed. “We were engaged.”

The new revelation hit me hard, and I fought to keep my expression neutral and open.

“For how long?”

“A year,” she answered. “Just long enough for her visa to be approved.”

The implication was clear.

And I hated Natalie even more, if possible.

To an extent.

“She broke things off once she’d gotten her green card approved?”

“And what a spectacular way she ended things,” Hayden scoffed. “Just weeks before the wedding she invited me to her final dress fitting. I was stupidly excited; I thought I’d have to wait until the day of the wedding to see her in her dress. But Selene was there. Holding her hand.”

Any neutrality I’d managed to hold onto slipped through my numb fingers.

“I won’t bore you with the melodrama,” she said, forcing a hollow laugh. “Suffice it to say that I swore off relationships months later. I thought I’d gotten over it, but obviously, it’s still… fresh.”

She glanced up at me, at the horror on my face, and managed a chuckle.

“Well, now you know,” she said with finality. “I can’t go through that again.”

It all fell into place; the pieces clicked together and, finally, I understood why she hated the very idea of long-term relationships.

I would have too.

And through the anguish in her voice, and the sadness in her eyes, I realized one very important thing. Hayden didn’t believe she was worth the fight.

My heart ached where it thudded in my chest.

“I understand,” I started, my voice rough with the tidal wave of emotion I fought to hold back. “Even though I’ve never had to experience anything like it. And I’m so grateful that you told me any of that, at all. But it doesn’t change the way I feel.”

“Oh yeah?” Hayden said, derision curling her upper lip. “How so?”

“I still know you’re worth fighting for.”

Hayden

Her confession clanged through me, words ringing like the peals of a million bells, and it was all I could do to stare at her. Frankie’s mouth pressed into a defiant line, her eyes clear and unwavering.

Not a flicker of doubt in her gaze.

And suddenly, it was too much. The walls I’d hauled up time and again slipped from my grasp, my defenses laughably feeble.

And it was all because of this woman. The only person who’d managed to pole vault herself over those walls. Perhaps the only person who’d wanted to do it.

But what if I couldn’t give her what she wanted?

“I- Frankie, I suck at relationships,” I argued, weak and reluctant.

Because I wanted her to love me. I wanted her to care about me.

As much as I cared about her.

“So?” she countered. “I suck at playing the tuba, but we can learn.”