Page 5

“Cher, it’s—”

“AND STOP CALLING ME THAT, DAMN IT!” She threw the scissors down on the coffee table and jolted to her feet.

I knotted my jaw as she ran her hand over her face.

“You left. You fucking left. So, you don’t get to waltz back into town like you’re some big hero who has been protecting me and all of us these past fifteen years. You don’t get to show back up and be your charming self, call me that name, when I haven’t heard from you since you left without a word!”

“You could’ve called too, you know…” I muttered under my breath.

And a palm sang against my cheek. Again. I closed my eyes, accepting the sting as her slap reverberated across my skin. “Don’t you fucking dare. Just don’t.Youleft.” She jabbed a finger into my chest. “Youchose to go.Youleft me here.Youleft your family here.”

Sorrow as thick as sludge filled my heart. She was right. Every word she spoke was the truth, and I shouldn’t say anything. But I needed her to know why I did it. I needed her to understand.

“I didn’t want you to have to pick between me or your family,” I whispered.

She spun in a slow circle. “You should’veletme choose.”

I shook my head. “If you’d chosen me, you would’ve resented me for taking you away from your family for the rest of your life. But if you’d chosen your family, you would’ve felt guilty for hurting—”

“Don’t you dare pretend to know what I would’ve felt.”

Shooting up from the chair, I ignored the sway of the room as a sharp jolt shot up my leg. “What would you have picked then, Colette?” I stalked forward. My entire shadow swamped her figure, draping her in darkness as her eyes widened. “Tell me.”

“It—” She took a stumbling step back. “It doesn’t matter now.”

I paused and clenched my jaw, realizing I’d never shown her this side of me. This level of violence and dominance was not something she’d known me to possess. But I was angry, and hurt too. “You have no idea what you would’ve picked.”

“Ford, it’s been fifteen years, we don’t need to argue about this. Let me just—”

“And there you go.” I threw my hands in the air. “Doing what you always fucking do.”

“Which is?” She straightened her posture and glared up at me.

“Deflecting. You always did that whenever you were faced with a tough choice.”

“And you always ran.” She inhaled deeply and closed her eyes. “In the end, when it mattered most, you ran.”

“Because you would’ve never chosen me,” I yelled, confessing one of my deepest secrets I’d never accepted.

The room stilled. The sun’s rays sharpened into daggers of ice as her chest rose and fell rapidly with mine.

“Because you would’ve never chosen me,” I stated again.

I’d never admitted those words out loud before, to anyone. Not even to myself. But I’d known, in the end she would’ve picked her family. I wouldn’t have blamed her for it either. That was the easier choice. The more sensible one. Another man would come along. Another man had probably already come along.

“You didn’t choose me, either,” she replied quietly.

All I’d ever done was choose her. Everything I’d done had been for her, to make sure she had the life she deserved. Leaving her had been the hardest thing I’d ever done. It still was. Every tour overseas, every time I’d squeezed that trigger with a live target on the other end had been easier than walking away from her. Knowing that I may end up six feet under every time I got those orders hadn’t terrified me the way I’d been when I had to leave her.

But I simply offered her a tight smile and stumbled back into the chair. There were no words I could say that would change what I’d done and how much I’d hurt her.

And it was clear that fifteen years hadn’t extinguished any lasting flames of anger. At least all that time hadn’t brought about awkward conversation as if we were strangers—even if that was what we technically were now.

Colette silently knelt down in front of me again, snapped some plastic gloves on her hands, and slid some medical-grade scissors through the cutin my pants. The fabric sheared with each snip of the metal, and a faint coat of red speckled against the blades.

“Don’t look at this, I know how you get.” She placed a piece of gauze over the seeping wound and waited for me to pull my gaze away from her.

Inhaling deeply, I ignored the need to confess every last burning desire for her. “So, you did it. You became a doctor after all,” I said as she finished widening the opening to expose my cut.