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“Have you had a good life?” I asked quietly, glad I had something to lean on when she answered.
“Yes.”
“Did you accomplish everything you wanted?”
“Mostly.”
“Are you happy?” This one would be the gut punch.
“When I’m not in New York, yes. I’m happy.”
“Then I didn’t make a mistake.”
My chest tightened to the point I could barely breathe. She’d confirmed my worst fears and greatest hope.
I was no good for her.
If she’d been shackled by me, I’d have only held her back. Without me, she’d been able to fly. To have the life she deserved.
It hurt, but I’d never be sorry for that.
“Will you meet me?” She spoke so softly I almost didn’t hear her.
“I can’t. Got twelve more hours on shift to go.” I had the urge to blow off work. Maybe it was my ego, or maybe it was false hope, but she needed me. Ifeltit.
Getting tangled up with Beau hadn’t been smart on so many levels. Just because I’d let her go didn’t mean I couldn’t be there for her in whatever way she needed.
My motives weren’t completely unselfish. I needed any piece of her she’d give me. Even if it was only the angry ones.
“Tell me who hurt you.”
I had to know. Beau could take care of herself, but I couldn’t stop my need to defend her. The rage every time I thought about her bruised face and hurt arm was almost blinding.
“It’s not import—”
“Someone hurting you needs to learn not to try to break precious things.”
A strangled noise escaped her.
“He’s not worth you getting in trouble,” she whispered.
“If he doesn’t touch you again, it’s more than worth the trouble.”
I didn’t know who the bastard was to Beau. Not only would he never lay another finger on her, but I planned to make it clear he’d have to erase her from his memory. Because he wouldn’t bother her again.
“Cal . . .”
“I want a name.”
She was quiet so long I thought she’d hung up.
“Alex Davenport.”
Alex Davenport.
Alex Davenport.
I couldn’t wait to get my hands on him.Should I squeeze his jaw until it broke, just like he’d done to Beau? Or should I break his arms first?
