Page 127 of Chasin’s Surrender

“Not until you listen to me.”

Holden’s jaw clenched and he ground his teeth. He did not want to listen. He didn’t want to hear whatever the hell she’d been trying to tell him for the last eighteen months, since she’d called in hysterics to tell him Paul’s stupid-ass sister was giving her trouble. He’d driven down to Virginia to take her back and sort out her issues. And since for the first time in seven years the door was opened, she’d been trying to tell him something.

He should’ve sent Nixon. But it had been Holden who promised Paul he’d take care of his family. A family he’d created but never got to see.

Goddamn, that hurt.

“Go home.”

“Does it matter to you that I still love you?”

Christ.

Shot to his heart.

“No, Charleigh, that ceased to matter when you got pregnant with Paul’s baby. Further, it ceased when I watched you walk down the aisle and marry him. And it died a long, painful death when I watched the woman I loved growing another man’s child. So, fuck no, it doesn’t matter. It’s been eight years—”

“I know how long it’s been since you left me,” she hissed. “I’m acutely aware how many years I haven’t had you. But you did that. You left me. So don’t act like you’re the injured party. I loved you. I wanted a future with you. And you threw me away. You threw us away. So, don’t blame me for that.”

That gaping hole in his heart started to bleed. He hadn’t thrown her away, he’d set her free.

Then everything he’d tried to prevent happened.

She’d lost her husband.

She’d become a widow at twenty-six.

Her daughter lost her father.

“Old ground, Charleigh.”

“You’re a stubborn asshole, you know that?”

“Yep.”

“You really don’t care, do you?”

I care more than I should.

“Nope,” he lied.

Without another word, Charleigh angled into her car. He didn’t watch her drive away.

He made his way into his Airstream, went straight back to his bed, reached under his pillow, and snatched the photo.

Charleigh.

When she was his.

Sitting on his lap, arm slanted across his chest, palm resting on his shoulder. All that thick brown hair hanging loose, wild. Big, beautiful smile on her face, brown eyes dancing with happiness.

His Leigh-leigh.

Then his eyes slid to his face in the photo.

That had been the last day he’d been happy.

Late that night lying in their bed, legs tangled, with Charleigh still naked after they’d made love, she cuddled next to him and whispered about their future. Holden took it all in, soaked up all of it. Wanted it. Believed in it.

Until she told him she wanted three kids.

Then fear knotted in his gut.

The next day, he let her go.

It had been the right thing.

So why did it still feel so wrong?