Damn Wright (The Wrights 2)

“Indefinitely.” That spur-of-the-moment decision was something he’d have to clear with his boss, but there was no denying it felt right. “I can do a lot of the basic carpentry. And you’ve got a few mad skills of your own. We did a pretty nice job on that little cracker box we had in Hanover.”

She shivered. “Oh, the mice.”

“Is that all you remember? I remember the deck where we watched those incredible sunsets. The way you used to sit on my lap on that front porch swing. How our bedroom looked out over the valley.”

“Oh God.” Her voice came out soft and laced with pain, and she turned her gaze to the ground. “Don’t do that.”

“It’s the only way I get from day to day without you.” He hadn’t meant to make that confession. Especially not in the face of her engagement. But…there it was.

She closed her eyes. “Dylan—”

“Emma, I promised you a lot of things all those years ago, and I may not have been able to pay for medical school up front the way I’d planned, but I have this opportunity to pay for it on the back end.”

Now she met his gaze with determination in her eyes. “That’s not your responsibility.”

“I can’t change the past, but I’m finally in a position to do something about the present and the future. I don’t expect this to make up for anything that happened between us. You can still hate me as much as you want. But if you agree to renovate, and we do it together, I’ll sign the house over to you. You can have all the proceeds.”

“What? No. That’s not fair.”

“What’s not fair is the hell I’ve put you through because I couldn’t deal with my own shit.”

She considered it for a hot second. He saw the interest light up her eyes. Saw flashes of memories and emotion. “And what if you get called away in the middle of the renovation? Then I’d be stuck with the mess.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” Just the fact that she was considering the idea turned his feet to cement. Engaged or not, if she said yes, he’d do whatever he had to to show her how he’d changed. “At least not until the house is finished.”

She smirked. “You also said until death do us part.”

Her quick retort stung, and he winced. “Ouch.” He took a deep breath and nodded. “Okay, I’ll hire a general contractor and put all the money for the renovation in a joint account. If something happens to me during the project, like I get hit by a meteor, all the plans will already be made, the contractor can continue the project, and you’ll have the money to pay for it.”

She just stared at him, eyes narrowed. “It’s a generous offer, Dylan, but it’s not a good idea.”

“No, it’s a great idea. You could be debt-free in a matter of weeks. Months at the most. Homes are selling before they’re even put on the market. In days. All cash. I’m offering you the freedom I should have given you years ago. Please, take it.”

A car pulled up behind Emma’s. Her gaze darted that

direction. “Oh shit.” The angsty curse came out soft, followed by a whispery “Shit, shit, shit.”

Dylan watched as she shored herself up and forced a smile. He knew without looking it was her fiancé. He watched all Emma’s attention slide to the other man and Dylan had to grit his teeth and fist both hands to keep the hurt, anger, and self-loathing in check.

He glanced toward the vehicle and found Parnell standing from a shiny Lexus SUV.

That thing nagging in the back of his mind exploded to the forefront. Parnell had given her a twenty-five-thousand-dollar ring, drove a seventy-thousand-dollar car, but had done nothing about her school loans. Dylan might not know the why behind that, but it didn’t matter. He knew by the way she’d told Dylan how much she owed that it was a source of shame for her. A burden. One her future husband, a guy with obvious wealth, should have been more willing to help her deal with.

He already hated Parnell on principle. Then again, Dylan certainly hadn’t been nominated for a husband-of-the-year award.

“Hey.” Emma’s voice held a little too much enthusiasm. “I thought you were booked solid today.”

“Bad labs,” he answered, still staring at Dylan.

Dylan had been in enough field hospitals to know that if certain markers in a patient’s lab results came back askew, it would disqualify them from surgery unless the operations were essential to life.

Parnell shut the driver’s door, his gaze glued to Dylan. “I know you.”

The air shifted. Emma hummed with tension. “This is Dylan.” She told Parnell. “He’s—”

“No. Don’t tell me.” He silenced Emma like a dog and shook a finger toward Dylan. “You look so familiar. Have we met?”

A rush of disgusted envy whipped through Dylan. He’d sacrificed their marriage to give Emma a chance at finding a good husband. Someone who would take care of her and give her the home and children she’d wanted. Someone with a better chance of living to see those children through college and adulthood than Dylan had believed he’d had at the time. But this wasn’t that guy.