“I’ve watched you fight an inner battle for seven months.” He brought her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles. “You’re fighting a war with your heart.”
Creases of pain etched around her mouth. “If that’s the case, why did I choose you?”
“I was your first. The logical choice. But the heart isn’t logical. Sometimes, we don’t know what we want until it’s gone.”
“It doesn’t matter.” In her usual stubborn fashion, she climbed onto his lap and steeled her voice. “I love you.
“I know you do.” He pulled her against him and tucked her head beneath his chin. “But you love him more.”
She sank her fingernails into his shoulders, clutching fiercely, holding on, fighting against the inevitable.
For a moment, he fought alongside her. They belonged together. He could work through this, love her hard, harder than any man ever could, and fill the void Trace left behind. There had been a time when he was all she needed.
Until he ruined it.
Agony rose without warning, scraping jagged shards through his throat.
The damage couldn’t be undone. He’d left her, let her believe he was dead, and lost her to another man.
Hot prickles stabbed the backs of his eyes. He couldn’t swallow. Couldn’t breathe.
He’d ruined them.
Dammit, he just wanted her to be happy, and it wasn’t fair to either of them to go on pretending. He’d rather be the one with the gutted heart. Instead of fighting for her, he’d rather fight for her wellbeing and take vicarious contentment in that. This wasn’t him being a martyr. He simply couldn’t find a better way.
He had to let fate play out. Let her go back to Trace. Let her go.
Let it all go.
His vision swarmed with tears. He didn’t make a sound, didn’t release the air in his lungs, but he couldn’t hide his anguish from her.
She leaned back and whimpered at the sight of his tears.
“Don’t make that face.” A sob escaped her as she frantically dried his cheeks with her hands. “Don’t give up on me.”
“I lost you, baby. I lost you the morning I got into that cab and left you crying on the porch.” He hauled her against him, his embrace constricting and his mouth at her ear. “I’m not giving up. I’m letting you go.”
She shattered in his arms, sucking choppy gulps of air. He clung to her, and she clung back, gripping, weeping. He held her through it, crying with her as she came to terms with reality.
Years of friendship, love, and dreams for the future spooled out around them. She would still have those things. Just not with him.
He would never love again. Never find another Danni. He couldn’t even fathom it. She was his soul mate.
For endless minutes, they sat in the sadness, deep in their own thoughts, until the tears stopped. Too soon, she raised her head and cupped his face, wearing a look of devastating finality. He wiped away her tears as she dried his.
“No more crying tonight.” He kissed her lips, softly lingering.
No words were exchanged as he carried her into the bedroom. No second thoughts were voiced as they undressed. No tears fell as he entered her body for the last time.
They’d been here before. Four years ago, he made love to her and left her. But this time, he wasn’t leaving for a job. He was leaving for her, and he wouldn’t be returning. This time, he stared into her eyes, fucked her achingly slow, and wordlessly said good-bye forever.
After, she lay beside him, studying his face, seemingly dazed. She always admired his looks. Her attraction to him had never been in question. Neither had her love.
The woman loved with her entire being. That was the problem. She loved big enough and deep enough to bind her soul to two men.
“I’m grateful I had you to myself for seven months.” He pushed a blonde lock behind her ear.
“I’m grateful for every breath, every dance, every memory you gave me.”
Sharp, incendiary pain lashed through him, leaching the strength from his body. Fire burned in his chest, searing his breaths and watering his eyes. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t let her go.
He wanted to sink into her again and lose himself in her precious warmth. But if he did that, if he stayed the night, he would stay forever. His fragile resolve was splintering. He needed to go.
So he pulled away. Not physically. Not yet. But he pulled his gaze away from her beguiling beauty. He pulled his emotions away from the surface and shoved it all down, growing cold and rigid in the effort.
She seemed to sense his detachment and went still beside him, silent and accepting. There would be no more fighting from her. She knew the score. She would grieve and move on.
Trace was waiting. His best friend would wait for her forever.