Page 83 of Hate To Love You


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Oh, fuck.

But I need to tell her so many things. That I feel like the most stupidly righteous idiot on the planet. That I regret not being honest with her. But most of all, that I love her. Bethany isn’t ready to hear any of that now. I understand. I won’t give up on us, though. I may have fallen for her because I orchestrated this giant lie to ferret out her “crimes,” and I regret that like hell. But I don’t regret a moment of the time we spent together.

“Did you call your siblings?”

She shakes her head. “I don’t think the news of Barclay’s passing is something I should deliver over the phone. It would be better to gather everyone together and tell them face to face.”

“You’re right. Grab your purse, and I’ll take you—”

“No, I’ll find my own way. I don’t want to see you, spend time with you, or even be in the same room with you. I’m moving out of the apartment, so you can do what you want with the lease. It’s over, Clint. We’re done.”

Her words hurt like a physical blow, but arguing is pointless now. I fucked up and all I can do is give her the time and space she needs while hoping I’ll someday have the opportunity to put us back together.

“You don’t have a car, and even if they’ve discharged Stephen from the hospital, he’s in no condition to drive. I’ll get you to Maxon and Keeley’s place. I’ll even help you tell your siblings what happened so you don’t have to live through it again by yourself. Then, if you still want me to go, I will.” I can’t resist cupping her face. “But I’ll be back. I meant what I said when I told you that I fell in love with you and I had every intention of asking you to be my wife.”

Bethany hasn’t cried all day, but now my words reduce her to tears. “Don’t. Just…don’t.”

I’m pushing, and she can’t take it.

Slowly, I drop my hand. “Okay. We won’t talk about it any more tonight. Just let me get you to your brother’s house safely.”

She hesitates, then nods. “Only because it’s the fastest way there, and they deserve to know what’s happened.”

We make our way out the bar’s back door, probably for the last time. I already told Andy I wouldn’t be back. No need to work this job now that my cover story is moot. I doubt Bethany will be back, either. She needs to grieve. And just like I can’t stand to be in my North Dakota home anymore, I doubt she’ll want to work in the place where she watched her father die.

The drive to the inn is tense and quiet. She texts Maxon and tells him to gather the family at his place. It’s important, but she refuses to say why. He agrees, then she darkens her phone and zones out. Whatever she sees of the dark night out her window seems to hold her attention. Or maybe that’s just her way of avoiding me.

We’re drawing close to Maxon and Keeley’s bed-and-breakfast, and I have this sense of a clock ticking away the last of my time with Bethany. I try to rationalize. She’ll still be on the island tomorrow. I won’t let her get too far from my side. I’ll find small ways to let her know I love her and that I’m here for her without pushing too hard. She thinks she doesn’t want me now, but someday she’ll realize that she wants a lover who will care for her, who will devote himself to her. I’ll be waiting. I’ll be ready to prove that I’m sorry and that I’m worthy. I’ll beg her forgiveness. Then I’ll do whatever it takes to convince her that she’s it for me. She’s the only woman I’ll ever love.

Still, what if that day never comes? What if these are the last moments I ever spend with Bethany?

Panic eats at my gut. If I don’t say something, will she leave thinking she meant nothing to me except revenge? Will I regret staying silent in these final moments for the rest of my lonely life?

I reach for her hand. “I was proud of you tonight, Beth.”

For once, she doesn’t wrench away. She also doesn’t reply.

Into the silence, I go on. “I know from personal experience that what you went through tonight with your father was one of the hardest things to deal with—ever. A father’s death stays with you, and you constantly wonder what you could have done to save him.”

Finally, she turns to me with a little frown furrowed between her brows. “I’ve already wondered that.”

“The answer is nothing. Paul Daniels was on a mission, and you couldn’t have stopped him. Just like I couldn’t do anything to prevent my dad’s heart attack. Your father made enemies. My father didn’t take care of his health. Sometimes accepting that things are out of your control is the most difficult lesson of all. It’s a lesson I wish I would have accepted before I lost you.”

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