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“Because I want a future with you. I want it all. I want to wake up with you every morning and have babies with you and grow old together. I won’t make the same mistake twice. We can live wherever you want to. Whatever will make you happy. As long as it’s together.”
And then he dropped to one knee. “Isobel Bianca Snow, will you marry me?”
Chapter Twenty-Two
ISOBEL
“No!” Isobel jerked her hand away from his. She didn’t mean to. It was just automatic.
But God, everything he’d just said, God. Growing old with her? Babies?
He had no idea. This man who’d already been so broken by the last woman he’d loved. He had no idea about her.
She saw the devastation hit his face at her rejection.
“Hunter, you don’t—” She scrambled for words to make him understand. The last month had been the happiest of her life. Of course she wanted a future with him.
But that didn’t mean it was something she had to give. God, look how obsessive she’d gotten after seeing the picture of his wife. All the old thoughts and insecurities had come roaring back in spite of the progress she thought she’d made since coming here.
She hadn’t even meant to snoop. She’d just opened up the glove compartment and found the picture frame, face down.
As soon as Isobel flipped it over, all the air had swooped out of her chest.
In the picture, Hunter stood side by side with a gorgeous, petite blonde. Isobel’s eyes had immediately zeroed in on the woman. She had such a tiny waist. Like impossibly tiny. Barbie tiny. And her clavicles. They were sharp, jutting out just like the models in magazines did. In fact, the woman might have well been a model.
The Hunter in the picture looked at the woman like she was his sun and moon and stars.
Like she was his life.
And Isobel’s head had immediately jumped to the worst possible conclusions. Which was why she had to refuse his ridiculous proposal.
Didn’t he see how screwed up she was? How crazy?
The furrow in Hunter’s brow moved from pained to confused. But God, how did she even begin to explain? Apparently he was running out of patience, though.
“Talk,” Hunter demanded. “Tell me why we can’t have a future together. Do you not feel the same way about me? I know this is fast.” He ran his hands through his hair. “I can slow down. Shit. I’m sorry. We can—”
“Hunter,” she cut him off, pained. “Stop. There are things you don’t know about me. About my past.” She looked down at the sidewalk. “And my family.”
“Then tell me.” Hunter put a finger underneath her chin to lift her face. “I want to know everything about you.”
Isobel pulled away from his grasp and walked to the center of the park where there was a white gazebo. A couple street lamps lit the path. “You say that now. But you don’t know.” She shook her head, tears pricking at her eyes.
“Don’t tell me what I want.” His voice was dark as he moved to keep stride beside her.
God, he wasn’t going to let it drop, was he? She took a deep breath. He’d revealed things about himself tonight and now it was her turn to be brave.
“My mother committed suicide when I was eight years old. She hung herself from the ceiling fan in her bedroom while my dad was at work. I was the one who found her.”
“Jesus Christ,” Hunter hissed out and then the next thing she knew, his strong arms were around her, pulling her to his chest. “When you were just eight?”
Isobel nodded into his chest. For a moment, just a moment, she let herself absorb his warmth and comfort, but then she pulled away from him. She needed to get the rest of this out. She needed him to understand.
“That’s not all.” Her voice was little above a whisper. “My whole life everyone told me how much like my mom I was. I looked like her. I was quiet and bookish like her. But only my dad knew that I was emotional and had black moods like she did. Still, everyone talked. After she…” Isobel’s voice trailed off. “Well, after that, it was like everyone was just waiting for me to turn out the same. To turn out crazy like her.”
Hunter’s nostril’s flared. Isobel cringed, waiting for him to pull away from her. “People said that to you?”
Isobel shrugged. “It was just the way the grown-ups would look at me. But they must have talked about it behind closed doors because the kids would say it to my face.” Insane Isobel, gonna crack like crackers. Just like her mom.
