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She hands over the keys, then grabs a light jacket before we walk out. On the way home, I think about all that’s changed between us since I first showed up a few months ago. As Gemma sits next to me and hums along to the radio, I know now more than ever that coming home was the right decision.

We chat about nothing, and the conversation flows so easily that I’m pulling into my sister’s driveway in no time at all. After I turn off the engine, we sit together for a second, not wanting the night to end even though we’re both exhausted as hell.

“Tyler,” she whispers. “Thank you again for everything. You’ve surprisingly been my rock through all of this.”

A small smile meets my lips as I study her face and take in how genuine her words are. “I’m just returning the favor for all those letters you wrote me when I needed someone.”

Right now, I want to pull her into my arms and kiss her like there’s no tomorrow—in a way I’ve dreamed about since I saw her again for the first time. By the way she licks her lips, I know she’s thinking it too, but we can’t.

“Good night, Gemma,” I say.

“Night,” she tells me as I reach for the handle, then we both get out so she can hop in the driver’s side. Being with her is so damn electrifying, and it’s so hard to walk away, but somehow I do. I’ll kiss her when the timing is right, when she’s ready, but that’s not now.

As she backs out of the driveway, I send her a text.

Tyler: Drive safe. Let me know when you get home.

Before she pulls away, she messages me back.

Gemma: I will.

When she’s out of sight, I go inside and force myself to take a cold shower. By the time I get out, she sends me another text to say she made it safely back, and I tell her sweet dreams. I have a feeling tonight I’ll be staring at the ceiling for hours thinking about her before I finally drift off.

Gemma’s always had that effect on me.

Chapter Eight

GEMMA

After last night’s shit storm, I’m a ball of emotions. I have to give Dad the news that Robert and I won’t be getting married. Even though he’ll be disappointed, I hope he understands why. We’ve always been close, and there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for him, but I hate letting him down. I don’t plan on going into detail about Robert’s pushiness or how he tried to mold me into a Stepford wife. It will be short and to the point—we just weren’t meant to be together.

“Hey, Daddy,” I greet as soon as I walk into the kitchen. He’s drinking a cup of coffee and reading the paper at the table.

“There’s my girl.” He kisses my cheek when I lean down to hug him. “How ya doing, sweetheart?”

“I’ve been better, but I’m okay.” I move around him and go straight to the coffee maker.

“Gonna explain what’s goin’ on?” he asks, concern etched on his face. “Everything okay?”

“I’ll explain. Do you want me to make breakfast first?”

“Sure, just somethin’ light is fine, though,” he insists.

I drink my coffee while I cook western omelets, and he talks about the local news. Though I’m more occupied with how to start this conversation and am barely listening.

“Gemma?”

“Hmm?”

“What’s burnin’?”

My mouth falls open as I smell smoke coming from the toaster. “Shit!” I quickly unplug it and remove the dark, crisp bread. “Whoops. I’ll make more, hold on.”

“You sure you don’t want any help?”

I turn off the stove and slide the pan from the burner before I burn that too. “No, I’ve got it. Just sit tight.”

Ten minutes later, I have our food plated and set on the table with coffee refills.

“Smells delicious, sweetie.” Dad beams as he dives into his omelet.

“Thanks. Sorry, I’m distracted.”

“I can see that. What’s goin’ on?”

Swallowing hard, I stare at my food and blow out a ragged breath. It’s now or never.

I look up at him, trying to stay strong. “I called off the wedding,” I say, ripping off the Band-Aid.

Dad immediately lowers his fork and frowns. “Oh.”

I close my eyes to keep the tears from falling. I’m not crying over the loss of my relationship with Robert. It’s the disappointment on my dad’s face that makes me emotional. I tried to prepare myself for his reaction, but it didn’t do any good.

“Did you two break up last night?”

Nodding, I wipe my wet cheeks with my napkin. “I ended it earlier this week. Marrying a man I wasn’t in love with anymore didn’t feel right.” It’s the truth, just not the whole truth.

“I only want you to be happy, Gemma. I hope you know that.”

“I do, but I feel awful because you’ve been so excited to walk me down the aisle and have talked about it for months. I was scared you’d be upset with me.”

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