Falling into You (Falling Stars 3)

“But you already did, Richard. You hurt me worse than anyone has ever hurt me before. You left me.”

The last words cracked, and she touched her chest.

Like the girl wanted to give me access to see what I’d done.

She didn’t need to show me. I’d known it all along.

“I’d take it back if I could. If I could go back and erase what was done, I would. I don’t want to hurt you anymore, Violet. I want to be here. Right here, with you. I need you to trust that.”

A motherfuckin’ fool. But I couldn’t turn back. Couldn’t turn away. Couldn’t leave.

She blinked up at me with those mesmerizing eyes.

Violets and the sky and eternity.

The girl delicate and raw.

Fragile and fierce.

Every fucking day since I’d met her, I’d been in awe.

She scoffed out a disbelieving sound. “And that’s the problem. I can’t trust you. Can’t trust that you’ll stay.”

She stared up at me, wading through the turmoil, wearing this skintight white tank with no bra and sleep pants that hugged her in all the right ways.

Distracting to say the least.

“What do you even want, Richard? I’m over here telling you I can’t trust you, and I don’t even know what you’re asking me to give.”

I took a step forward, cocking my head to the side, my words grit. “Not asking for a thing, Violet, because you and I both know you’re already mine.”

Misery sliced through her being. A physical rendering. I felt it like a blow. “You’re right. I have always belonged to you. And look what’s left.”

Stepping back, she held her arms out to the sides, tears streaming down her stunning face and glinting in the reflection of the sun.

Wisps of black hair fluttering around her.

My fairy girl.

I was in front of her in a flash, one arm looping around her waist and the other cupping one cheek.

Emotion crested through her features.

Girl overcome.

Disgust.

Love.

Goodness.

Grief.

Everything I wanted to gather up and hold forever.

“You think you’re in pieces, Violet? Look at me. Look at us without each other.”

That crystalized gaze blinked and fluttered, her lips parting and making me want to devour her all over again.

“That’s your fault.”

“I know it’s my fault. I know it. And I can’t change what I’ve done, no matter how badly I might want to. Question is, can you forgive me?” The last scraped up my throat.

Violet stared at me, wavering and confused and unsure. Her attention moved to the injury between my eyes, and her hand trembled when she lifted it and feathered it over the butterfly stitch. “How could you ask me to forgive you when I know you’re hiding something from me, Richard? I see it. I feel it. What have you gotten yourself into? What happened last night?”

I flinched. “My past is catching up to me, Violet. Every mistake I’ve made is right here, and I’m doing everything in my power to fix it. To make it right the only way that I can.”

“I don’t understand.”

Anger blistered across my flesh. “There are things at play that I can’t show you, Violet. That I can’t let you see. But you need to know I’m going to destroy it. I’m going to end it. Burn it to the ground. And when it’s done? I’m going to pray you can find a way to forgive the unforgivable.”

I was so close, our mouths grazed.

Tiny wildfires erupted.

“Just remember when you find out? Remember I did it for you.”

That energy whipped. Agitated and wild. The girl’s heart started to pang in a disturbed, unsettled way.

“You’re scarin’ me, Richard.”

I exhaled a heavy breath. “Believe me, baby, I’m scared, too.” Not for myself. But I couldn’t shake the terror that I might not be able to pull this off.

And if I didn’t?

None of us could afford the cost.

“One thing I need you to know is I’m not going anywhere,” I told her. “I’m going to be right here, taking care of you and Daisy, protecting you, until it’s over.”

Confusion bound her, her defenses trying to make a rise. “When did you start caring about me and Daisy?”

My fingertips played across her knitted brow. “When did I start caring about you and Daisy? Told you last night, I never stopped. Never stopped loving you. Never stopped wanting you. Not for one fuckin’ second.”

“You didn’t sign the papers,” she whispered, still staring at me like she was going to stumble upon the answers hidden in my eyes.

I recoiled at the memory.

Way I’d nearly lost my mind when the divorce papers had been delivered to one of the hotels we were staying at on the road. The words had read like my own goddamn tragedy that I’d personally penned.

In a fit of rage, I’d ripped them up and tossed them over the balcony.

“Couldn’t.”

“Why?”

I snatched her wrist and brought it to my nose, inhaled across the tiny piece of art that represented us.