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Dean put his hands on the side of his truck bed and leaned over, sighing. “You could have told me this at any time, but you waited until I showed up here. Why?”
“It was easier to stay away. I know I’ve screwed up, but I’ve never known how to ask for help. I know how to fight, I know how to keep people at a distance, but this is my first bout into love, so I’m bound to make a shit storm of mistakes. I’m just hoping that you’ll forgive me for them.”
Violet waited, holding her breath as Dean remained silent.
Finally, he stood up once more and faced her, arms crossed over his chest. “It wasn’t all you.”
“What?”
He took a step toward her, and despite his guarded stance, she could feel the distance between them evaporating.
“I let you push me away. I knew what you were doing, and I didn’t fight. I rolled over and conceded defeat, when I should have broken down your door and told you that without you, I’m just a miserable, angry asshole. I should have come back every day and told you how much I missed you. And that when I turned down the chance to go back overseas, I lied when I said it had nothing to do with you. I realized that I’d wanted to go back for the wrong reasons. It wasn’t going to erase what happened or bring back the friends I lost.
“The week before we fought, my psychiatrist asked me three questions. What does my life look like in five years, what do I need to be the best version of myself, and what are three things that make me happy?” His hand came up to cup her cheek, and she covered it with hers as he finished. “The answer to every question was you. Yes, Alpha Dog and the guys, Casey, Daisy, and Dilbert were all there, but you were the center of everything. The only future I wanted included us, but I thought that you didn’t need me the way I needed you.”
Violet threw herself against him, trusting him to catch her. “Oh my God, I do. I do. I am so sorry. So sorry.”
“I am, too.” The warmth of his breath and kiss in her hair made her squeeze harder.
“Can we start over?” she whispered.
Dean pulled back, framing her face with his hands. “No way. You and I have gone through some shit, and as many mistakes as we’ve made, we need those. They’re going to remind us to do better. To be better.”
“But we just can’t pick up where we left off,” Violet said.
“Why not?”
Without waiting for her response, Dean kissed her, and she pressed back, never wanting to lose this feeling again. To be without Dean. Holding tight to his waist, she would have protested, but the love she saw shining down at her eased her worry.
With one last brush of his lips, she sensed the promise in this moment. That they had something real and wonderful and would never take it for granted again.
Then Dean smiled down at her, and she suddenly got it.
Fresh starts were for the weak, for people who couldn’t face their mistakes.
But together, they could take on anything.
And they would.
Epilogue
Four Years Later
DEAN SPARKS STOOD in the crowded hallway next to his wife, waiting impatiently for the unveiling to begin.
“Why are you muttering like that?” Violet asked.
“I’m not muttering.” Was he? He hadn’t even been aware he was doing it, but they had been standing there for fifteen minutes at least, and he knew that Violet had to be uncomfortable. After all, she was carrying about twenty-five pounds of extra weight in front of her body.
As Dean searched for a place to seat his very pregnant wife, he thought he saw her wince.
“What was that?”
“Nothing, it’s just Braxton-Hicks,” she said.
“Are you sure?” Violet was just over eight months, but he had heard stories from his sisters and his friends. Plus, there was that video of the woman giving birth while the husband was driving.
Dean shuddered, a cold sweat breaking out all over his body just thinking about it.
