She felt as if she was fighting a losing battle. Because she was. She was trying to fight love, and there was no way she was going to win that one.
And still, settling into a relationship where she’d never be happy or fulfilled didn’t feel right, either.
“So what do I do?” Ella rubbed her hand over her growing belly. Taking comfort from the being who nestled there so trustingly.
Lila glanced at Ella’s hand caressing her baby, a sad expression on her face, and Ella wondered again about the woman. Word through Chloe was that no one really knew much about Lila’s past. “I’m not an expert on love, sweetie,” she said. “But it seems to me that when love is your guiding force, then you need to listen to your heart, not your head, to find your answers.”
Her heart started to thud. The air cooled. It heated. Ella wanted to grin. And to cry.
“You think I should do whatever I can to get him to try again?” It was what she wanted, wasn’t it? In her deepest heart.
“I’m not a counselor,” Lila said. “And I can’t tell you that. From what you say, he’s probably facing some very real issues. I’m only saying that your heart is not accepting the choices your mind is making. You might want to find out why.”
Her heart would have her running to Brett. Her heart would have her willing to accept whatever crumbs of himself he could give her. Her heart would have her hoping that someday he’d trust himself enough to love her back.
She couldn’t take any more chances on hope.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
THERE WAS STILL no word from Ella when Brett shut down his phone and boarded the plane home that night. He must have scared her, offering her his home. Perhaps it had seemed like nothing more than a grand gesture.
He’d meant only to give her every part of himself that he could. Because he couldn’t give her what she wanted...
Brett had come full circle. Sitting on the plane after his meeting, he was grateful for the physical restraint holding him in his seat.
He’d upgraded himself to first class. He needed the space.
And ordered a cocktail. To calm his nerves.
Realizing his hands were once again clenching the armrests, he forced his muscles to relax.
He was a little boy again, a month after his tenth birthday. His little sister had been sick. His parents had just come home from the doctor. They were fighting. His father was saying things Brett didn’t really understand. Using words that had never been spoken in their home before. His mother had started to cry.
Livia, seven at the time, had whispered to him, “I’m scared, Brett.”
She was on the couch, where their father had set her when he’d carried her in. Brett was with her. He’d been reading, but put the Baby-Sitters Little Sister book down and told her, “Don’t worry, I’m here.”
He’d really believed he could protect her. His folks had given him the job when she was born. Before they even brought her home from the hospital. “You’re the big brother,” they’d said, assuring him that his role was as important as anyone else’s. That he wouldn’t get any less time and attention from them.
He’d been only three.
But he remembered hearing that.
In the end, it hadn’t mattered. Nothing he’d known during those first ten years of his life had mattered.
He hadn’t been able to help Livia. She’d been scared of dying, and he’d sat there and watched her die.
He’d told his mother he wouldn’t let his father lay another hand on her, but the old man had just knocked him out cold and hit her anyway.
He’d made a silent promise to Ella that he’d never hurt her.
And that was just about all he’d done.
His plans...they hadn’t worked.
Which left him with...nothing.
No plan. No action to take. No solutions.