Page 64 of Oathbreaker

I can’t let it deter me, though. She’s the only woman for me, so giving up is not an option. No matter how mad she gets.

“I waited until it was too late last time,” I reply simply. “I’m not doing that again.”

Another blindingly furious glare. “Waited for what, exactly? Your turn? Because you’re not even in the running this time, buddy!” She heads for the stairs, but I grab her arm, pulling her back to me.

“When they were torturing me, it was your face, your touch—the memories of our night together—that gave me the strength to keep going. To keep fighting so I would get another chance.”

Her eyes fill with tears, but she takes a step back, slowly shaking her head. “I can't do this with you again, Colt. I’m sorry.” She stomps off into the kitchen and I let her go this time.

It isn’t supposed to be this complicated. In my head, she waited for me. I know that’s unrealistic—I was dead—but I didn’t know that until a couple of weeks ago. For four years I envisioned a tearful, joyful, reunion.

Instead, my girl has a pro hockey player boyfriend, my closest friend in the world hates me, and I spend as much time trying to win over my four-year-old as I do my girl. Frankly, it’s exhausting. If just one thing could be easy, it would be great.

I hear the sliding glass door lock disengage, slide open, and then close again.

She always goes outside when she needs to think, so I give her a few minutes as I grab a beer and attempt to clear my head.

This is going to be an uphill battle. I know that now. But I’ve weathered much tougher storms than Thorny Briar. So, I need to pull up those figurative big-boy pants and go talk her off the ledge.

When she was a teenager, they called me the Briar Whisperer because I was the only one who could reason with her. Dash was too blunt for a hormonal sixteen-year-old, and she walked all over Banks. Royal didn’t have the patience, and Atlas kept her at a distance in the beginning, unsure how to interact with a girl her age.

So, I would be the one to ask about the boy she liked or the teacher who was giving her a hard time. Whether it was in person or on the phone, I could always make her laugh. Even back then, when I still looked at her like a kid, we could talk about everything.

Maybe my best move at this point is to go back to the beginning.

“Hey.” I join her outside and sit across from her. “Want to talk?”

She fixes a fiery look of annoyance in my direction. “What could we possibly have to talk about at this point?”

I pause.

She has a point.

‘Want to fuck?’ probably isn’t the right direction to go.

But conversation was never an issue for us.

“Watch any good TV lately?” I ask, like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

She’s quiet for a beat, studying my face. I watch the annoyance turn to weariness and weariness turn to…mischief.

“Welp, you’ve got five seasons of Law & Order: SVU to catch up on.”

“That’s still going? Jesus. Captain Benson in charge these days?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“She was always a badass.”

“She still is. She has a kid now. I don’t know if she got him before you left?”

“Yeah… he was the baby of a hooker or something, right?”

“Yeah. Now he’s about thirteen. They aged him up.”

“I guess I have a lot to catch up on.”

“And Dancing with the Stars is still going.”