Page 58 of Don’t Go Breaking My Heart

“Kannon…”

He shook his head, cutting me off. “No, let me finish. I don’t regret loving Leah. She deserved every ounce of love I gave her. But even she knew—” His voice cracked, and he swallowed hard. “She knew my heart had always been yours first.”

Tears burned behind my eyes, but I blinked them away, unsure what to say.

“I’m not telling you this to guilt you,” he continued. “I just need you to know. I’ve spent so long trying to bury this, trying to convince myself that what I felt for you wasn’t real or didn’t matter. But it’s always mattered.”

I didn’t realize I was crying until a tear slid down my cheek. I wiped it away hastily, trying to find the right words.

“I didn’t leave because I didn’t care,” I finally said. “I left because I thought it was the only way to protect myself. I thought… I thought if I stayed, I’d always be waiting for you to decide I wasn’t enough.”

His eyes darkened, pain flashing across his face. “You’ve always been enough, Merritt. More than enough.”

25

KANNON

Neither of us spoke for a while after that. We both ate our dinner and drank the wine. I wasn’t sure what else to say. Well, I knew there was a lot to say, but untangling the right words felt like trying to separate knotted strings in the dark.

I kept replaying the words I said to her. I watched her let my words sink in and gave myself a mental kick in the ass. I wished I had voiced them a decade earlier. The silence between us wasn’t uncomfortable. It was heavy, filled with too many unsaid apologies and forgotten memories.

“How is it?” she asked.

“Good.” I nodded. “Really good.”

“It’s a little congealed,” she said.

“Probably would have been perfect when it was fresh,” I said. “Sorry about that.”

“Don’t be. It’s still good. Maybe next time.”

I liked the idea she was giving me a chance for a next time.

“I’m stuffed,” I said after cleaning my plate.

“Do you want more?” she offered.

I chuckled. “I couldn’t. I really am full.”

She smiled. “I guess there will be leftovers.”

Together, we stood and started the cleanup process. There was a strange feeling in my chest as I stood at Merritt’s sink, rinsing off plates while she dried. It felt oddly domestic—something I hadn’t experienced in years. Her soft humming tugged at something buried deep in my chest, a place I hadn’t let myself visit in a long time.

“I’m not going to push you, but if you’d like to talk to me about your wife or anything, I’m here,” she said.

For too long, I had been keeping Leah to myself. I didn’t talk about her—ever. I didn’t let anyone talk about her when I was around. I locked her memory away in a box and refused to open it. But now that it was out there, I felt like it was okay to talk about it. It wasn’t easy, but if we were starting fresh, honesty seemed like the only way.

We finished cleaning up and moved to sit at the flimsy card table once again. She refilled her glass of wine, but I passed, knowing I had to get back on my bike again.

“I met her at the motorcycle dealership,” I said, the memory filtering in. “She was the one who sold me my new bike.”

Merritt looked at me with some surprise. “She sold bikes? That’s kind of badass.”

I chuckled. “Yeah, it was. She knew more about them than most of the guys in the shop. I watched this dude walk right past her to talk to some other salesman, acting like she couldn’t possibly help him. But Leah didn’t let it slide. She stepped in, schooled the guy on torque specs, and sold him the bike he didn’t even know he wanted.”

“That sounds pretty amazing,” Merritt said with a faint smile.

“It kind of was. I asked her out that same day. Told her if she could ride as well as she talked bikes, I needed to see it.”