Page 46 of It’s Only Love (Citrus Pines #1)

“He found me,” she croaked, her voice hoarse from her tears.

“My dad found me, but he didn’t approach me because he didn’t think I could ever forgive him.

He said I looked so happy that he didn’t want to ruin it.

He was just glad I was happy.” She choked on the last words and began crying again.

It devastated Dean to think they could have reconciled before her father died, he couldn’t imagine how she was feeling and he’d made it worse by not warning her.

Christy lifted her head from his chest and looked back at the box.

She crawled off his lap, he didn’t want to let her go, but he held himself back.

She started rummaging through the letters and then stopped.

Dean watched her stiffen in front of him before she swung those soulful eyes to him, but this time her baby blues were cold and hard.

She grabbed something and held it up in front of him; his flashlight.

Dean went cold all over and swallowed thickly as he tried to think of what to say but there was no denying the flashlight was his, she saw him with it enough times.

“Did you know about these?” she asked, gesturing to the letters and her voice cracking. He couldn’t lie to her, he wouldn’t. “Yes,” he answered simply. She closed her eyes and nausea churned his stomach. He reached for her, but she batted him away.

“How could you not tell me?”

“I wanted to tell you, I just didn’t know how. You’ve been in such a good place, and I couldn’t bear the thought of ruining that for you,” he began explaining, desperation fusing his tone.

She held up a hand to stop him from talking. “You need to leave,” she stated, her tone void of any emotion now.

He reached for her again. “Please just let me-”

“Don’t touch me!” she yelled.

He jumped, surprised at her outburst. He took a step back, he didn’t want to leave, couldn’t stand to leave her like this. Christy turned away, dismissing him, and he knew she wasn’t in a place where he could reach her. He resigned himself to the fact that he needed to give her some space.

“Okay, I’ll go, but I’ll be back in the morning.”

She didn’t respond.

She picked up the box of letters and carried them over to the armchair in the corner of the room, not looking at him. She was in shock and needed some time to process her feelings.

“I’ll come back,” he said again, but she didn’t respond, just stared at the box of letters in her lap.

It killed him to leave her, but he did. He waited in his truck for an hour outside the house before he drove home, then he sat in his study all night thinking about her. It shredded his insides when he thought about the woman he loved hurting so badly.

Wait, loved ? Did he love her? It hit him with such sharp clarity he could have laughed if things weren’t so grim.

But he felt it, it was like fire coursing through his veins.

He had never felt like this about anyone before.

The strength of these feelings terrified him.

That she was hurting so unbearably and to know he could’ve eased or prevented it, clawed at his heart.

He’d betrayed her, just as she was starting to trust him, and he had destroyed that precious gift. He needed her to forgive him, he needed to tell her how he felt, and he prayed she would feel the same.

She was the family he needed; she was the missing piece of himself that he had been searching for. He just hoped it wasn’t too late and that she could forgive him.

After a long, sleepless night, Dean headed back to Christy’s in the morning, a sense of urgency driving him.

He let himself into the house, calling out to her.

He checked downstairs first and the food he brought yesterday still sat on the counter.

He tossed it in the trash before it attracted wildlife.

Worried, he went upstairs and found her still sitting in the armchair where he left her yesterday.

She was wearing the same clothes as the day before, her eyes red and swollen, a glassy sheen to them.

She looked heartbroken and exhausted, and still she was the most beautiful woman in the world.

She slid her gaze to him when he came in, her eyes appeared so emotionless they scared him.

She didn’t move other than that, so he wrapped his arms around her, carried her to the bathroom and sat her on the lid of the toilet.

He turned the shower on, stripped her, then himself, and helped her into the stall.

He sat her on the lip of the bath while he washed her hair and body.

She didn’t say anything, didn’t react, so he talked.

He told her how sorry he was, how much he cared for her, how he planned to make it up to her and how he would never do anything to hurt her again, desperation lining his words.

He switched off the shower, dried and dressed them both, and carried her into the room she was staying in and put her into bed, tucking the quilt around her, hoping she would just drift off.

He kissed her forehead and left, returning to her father’s room.

Dean picked up the letters that were scattered around the floor, tucked them back into envelopes, and put them back in the box.

He didn’t read any of them, refused to unless she wanted him to.

He placed the box back on the armchair so she could find them if she needed them and then went back to check on her.

He found her out of bed and pacing around the room.

“Christy, I’m so sorry I kept this from you. I’ll do whatever it takes to make it up to you. I didn’t read any of them, not that it makes a difference, but I just wanted you to know. I didn’t know how to tell you. You were so happy and I couldn’t ruin that. I was selfish because I lov…”

“I need Beau,” she interrupted.

His heart thudded in his chest at her words. “What?”

“Beau. I want Beau, now,” she repeated, her tone hardening.

A roaring sound filled his ears as he tried to understand what she was saying.

“You want Beau? You need Beau?” he demanded, voice rising with his hurt.

As she nodded, his chest started tightening, how could he have been so blind?

He should have seen it, the way they interacted with each other and their closeness, he had assumed it was just a platonic love.

Could she have wanted Beau all along? Was it never really Dean she wanted?

She tried to tell him she didn’t want anything serious, only wanted casual, but he didn’t listen, and he lost his stupid, soft heart.

The determination in her eyes cemented his thoughts. He’d said he would do whatever it took to make this right, he could at least give her what she asked for. With a breaking heart, he made the call. Ten minutes later, Beau burst into the house and Dean met him at the top of the stairs.

“What’s going on?” he demanded, concern pinching his features.

Dean couldn’t talk, just gestured into the room.

Beau brushed passed him and into the room, when Christy saw him, relief flooded her face, and she threw her arms around him.

Dean’s heart cracked in his chest as his suspicions were confirmed.

He didn’t know what to do, was this it for them?

When they broke apart, she sat Beau on the bed and then came over to Dean.

“You can leave now,” she said, shutting the door in his face.

His mind exploded with images of what she and Beau would do in that room. His chest split open, acid poured inside, he couldn’t catch his breath. Taylor had been right. He was a fool.

Dean left the house, his heart breaking with each step he took.

He had never loved anyone like he loved her, this pain was like nothing he ever felt before.

He didn’t know what to do or where to go.

He couldn’t stand the thought of going to his house without her.

This was why he had never taken a woman there, because now all he would think of when he was there was Christy.

He couldn’t take the pain, he needed to numb the way she made him feel and to forget he loved her, until it stopped hurting.

He got in his truck and headed straight for the bar.