Page 66 of Chasing the Other Woman

The words hit wrong. Hard and cold.

“So that’s it?”

His head comes up. "What's it?"

“You’re letting go?”

“No.” He takes one step closer, then stops himself. “God, no. Sam."

He lets out a breath that makes me think he's nearly irritated with me, but there's too much pain there to believe that.

"I’m letting go of the idea that loving you means I get to hold on any way I want.”

My fingers curl around the edge of my phone.

“If you want a life separate from mine, I won't keep you from it” he says. “If you want to stay here and build something with preparedness or emergency response, I’ll support it. Contacts, equipment, funding, whatever you need and whatever is yours to use. I won’t tie it to coming home. I won’t tie it to Storm Posse. I won’t use our marriage or the business or money to keep you where I want you.”

My throat works. “That sounds very noble.”

“It doesn’t feel noble.”

“No?”

His mouth pulls tight. “It feels like cutting my own chest open and standing here politely while you decide whether to walk away with my heart in your hand.”

I close my eyes for one second.

When I open them, he's still there. And I can't deny that he looks like he's aching.

“But I won’t lie to you,” he says. “I want you beside me. In every way. I miss you in the truck. I miss you at command. I miss waking up and hearing you complain about my alarm. I miss storms making sense because you’re reading them with me. I miss reaching over at 1 a.m. and feeling you shift under my arm."

My eyes sting.

“Luci was never you,” he says. “She was never even close to you. I didn’t want her. I wanted you safe, and I wanted you close, and somehow I kept tightening my grip until I shoved you so far away I couldn’t reach you.”

I swallow.

“The only way I know how to start fixing that is to stop gripping,” he says. “To stop trying to control the outcome. To let you choose, even if what you choose…"

He stops, and I can see his throat work.

"Even if what you choose isn't me."

“And if I don’t forgive you?”

His eyes shine, but he doesn’t look away. “You’re still the love of my life.”

My breath catches.

“That doesn’t change if you never put that ring back on. It doesn’t change if you never come back to the team. It doesn’t change if you live beside me or two thousand miles away.” His voice roughens. “If you choose me someday, I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to deserve it. If you don’t, I’ll still love you. And I’ll still do everything I can to make sure I’m never standing between you and the life you deserve.”

I look down at my bare hand.

The skin where my ring used to sit looks too plain.

“I’m not ready,” I whisper.

"Okay."