Page 170 of Severed Heart

“All this time, all this fucking time.” I glare at her. “You wanted it too.”

“I know this is serious, Soldier, but I had a really good day. I don’t want it to turn into a bad day.”

“Do you know how many fuckingbad daysI had because I didn’t get these goddamned messages? Eight fucking years of bad days, Delphine. Eight fucking years!”

She nods. “I am sorry. All this time, I thought you purposely ignored them.”

“Well, that’s just fucking . . .” I shake my head. “Eight years, eight fucking years, and you didn’t even try to talk to me!”

“But I did, Soldier. I called, and I messaged you. You see that. I took your silence as your decision. You did not call. Did not come back.”

“Yeah, well, I was trying to be done with you, and do you know why?”

“You didn’t see the calls or messages.” Her voice cracks as the pain becomes palpable between us. Years of loss—of time passed. Years we could have had together if she’d once been fucking brave enough to tell me she was—

“You waited for me?” I rasp out, anger overruling my need to console her, instead wanting to shake her, to fucking eviscerate her. “All this time?”

She bites her lip, eyes flowing.

“Answer me,” I snap, and she jumps again. The sight of it has my heart skyrocketing.

“Oui.”

“Oui,” I repeat, disbelieving of her calm—fucking hating it. Hating the sight of her altogether. “I can’t,” I say, shaking my head. “I can’t fucking believe you let so much time pass. Evennow, you haven’t said shit!”

“You say you don’t have those feelings for me anymore when you came to my house.”

“Yeah, well, guess what, General,” I drawl sarcastically. “Love lied to you that fucking dayand has been lyingevery daysince he came back so he could get you back and keep you in his life again!”

I rake her with my stare, unable to help myself as I eat up the sight of her. She’s still too thin, but she looks fucking gorgeous, very much resembling the woman I worshipped when we were together.

Her eyes light with hope at my admission as I bite back words I know will hurt her. Because I know she wants this, and I’ve been batting every longing look away, knowing what she’s capable of doing to me. Every part of me wants to obliterate that hope for her, wantsso fucking badlyto. Tension fills the air as she swallows, and the truth doesn’t set me free—at all. If anything, it feels like it’s strangling me.

“That morning,” I say, voice laced with fury even as I whisper, “you said ‘love is lying to you right now.’ You were flat out fucking telling me you were lying.”

She bites her lip and nods. “Oui. But please, Soldier, please understand all of my reasons for it. I knew I was not good for you, Tyler. It was part lie butso much truth. I was twelve years older and the laughingstock of my family—an alcoholic withmany emotionalproblems. I did not want to corrupt your future. I didn’t want to hold you back.”

“Well, guess what, Delphine,” I deliver with clear lividity, “we’re together again, messagesreceivedornone, so what does that fucking tell you?”

“Love never lied to me,” she whispers, pressing a tear away. “I knew that, Tyler. In my heart.” She palms her chest. “I knew I was the liar that day.” Her eyes plead with mine for understanding that I’m incapable of right now due to the pain thrumming through me. “But we are together now, in this dream you created. You took a path meant for you to become a soldier, and I had to take my own to get here, in this place, mentally.” She points to her temple. “And I am here now, and I want to share this dream with you.” She takes a step forward. “I want so much to be with you in every way,” she whispers, love and hope fueling her expression.

“Yeah, well, if you’re this much of afucking coward, why should I ever trust you with my fucking heart ever again?!” I snap before turning and smashing the phone against the kitchen wall. Her sobs follow me as I stalk out of the house, ignoring her desperate call of my name as I enter the cab of my truck. I turn the ignition over and look up to see her sobbing on the porch. She screams my name as I kick rocks up and race away, my heart cracking with the truth I’ve been suspecting since I came back. That she gave up the day I lost that battle and didn’t fucking cross the street. But even so, she’s been waiting for me this whole fucking time.

* * *

The patter of little feet sounds on the creaking hardwoods as I stare up at the ceiling of my room, my chest still pumping after endless hours of driving aimless miles. The fucking heart in my chest refusing any more distance as I drove every single one. Finally, turning around so it would stop battering me, continually ramming me in demand to get back to its owner. Glutton for more punishment for being in love with the most infuriating woman in existence since it made its fucking decision.

In a blink, she stands at the edge of my bed, but I don’t look at her. I can’t. If she’s coming to me, then I need her to have the strength to continue to be the one to do it. And she does, tentatively brushing her fingers along my arm before straddling me and lowering herself to cover me. Her weight settles into me, a perfect fit, her naked breasts brushing my skin as she lays flush against me, resting her head beneath my chin. I can feel the heat from her core on my stomach through her thin silk panties as desire threatens to blind me. Softly, she whispers my name, and the curl of her tongue around it has my eyes fluttering closed.

Her silky hair glides along my bicep as she presses a kiss to my chest, where my heart lies, before gently stroking my pec, tracing my tattoo. Her apology is everywhere in how she’s plastering herself against me in a silent plea. Inhaling her clean scent, I fist my hands at my sides to keep from touching her as I sink into the surreal feel of her—utterly bare to me in every way. Tamping down the raging lust now thrumming through me, I opt to speak, hearing the need in my voice as I do.

“Do you want to know why I really came back to you that day?” I ask, and she nods her head gently into my chest as she begins to trace the Roman numerals of my tattoo.

“Because the first time I noticed you, really saw you, I began to feel this innate need to stay near you. And when you confessed to me just after that you were hurt for the same reason, it only had me wanting to get closer. Both of us had been gutted and disappointed by our fathers. The men we trusted most with our hearts, who threw that trust away, threw our admiration, ourfucking loveaway. That common bond explained my need to be with you because our scars matched and lined up so perfectly. But beyond that, it’s because we both felt like we’d lost a sacred place, a safe haven we both needed because that’s something we both need to feel whole.”

A tear splashes against my chest as I give myself permission to run the pads of my fingers through her silky hair, nothing more.

“Back then, neither of us really put a voice to it, but we were still suffering together, silently sharing our pain and longing for that place. You were the only person who truly knew and understood what I was really going through, but you’re the one who comforted me most. It shredded my heart that I couldn’t be the same for you, but I wanted to, and I fucking tried so hard to be that for you.”