“I can’t promise I’ll never hurt her. But I can promise I won’t run the next time it gets hard.”
He studied me. The silence stretched long enough that my pulse started beating in my ears.
Finally, Cole exhaled through his nose and rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “I still want to punch you.”
“I know.”
“And I’m not giving you my blessing like this is some clean, happy thing I’m ready to toast.”
My chest tightened.
“But” he continued, and that one word nearly knocked the air out of me, “I’m not going to stand in her way. My daughter gets to choose. And if she chooses you, then you and I will figure out the team side after that.”
Relief hit so hard I had to force myself to stay still.
“Thank you,” I said, my voice rough.
Cole’s eyes flashed. “Don’t thank me. Prove me wrong.”
I nodded. “I will.”
“And Hunter?”
“Yeah?”
“If she lets you back in, you better understand what she’s giving you.”
My throat tightened. “I do.”
His expression was still hard, but there was something tired underneath it now. Something that looked too much like grief.
“She said you remind her of me.” His mouth quirked at the side. I had not expected that.
My hand tightened on the door handle.
Cole looked out the window again. “Made me want to punch you more.”
Despite everything, a rough laugh scraped out of me. “Yeah,” I said. “That sounds fair.”
His mouth twitched, but it was gone before it became a smile. I left before either of us could make the moment heavier than it already was. I was halfway down the hall when my phone buzzed in my pocket. I stopped dead. For one second, I could not make myself look. Then I pulled it out.
Catherine: I got your letter.
Four words.
My heart slammed against my ribs. Another text came through.
Catherine: I miss us too.
I closed my eyes, trying to regain my bearings. The thought of losing her had shaken me to my core. I typed back with hands that were not quite steady.
Me: Can I see you?
The dots appeared. Disappeared. Appeared again. I stopped breathing while I waited for her answer.
Catherine: Yes.
I stared at the word until it blurred. It wasn’t forgiveness. But it was a door opening, and this time, I was not going to be the man who walked away from it.
