He’s ruined me. There will be no more attempts at forever. Not for me. He might not be the first man I loved, but he’s the only one who left a mark. If I walk away from this, I walk away from love indefinitely. That’s my penance.
“I can’t begin to imagine how hard this is for you.” He surrounds me with his scent, his heat, his brain-scrambling presence. “Tell me what you need.”
“Space.” I wriggle away and push past him, heading out of the bathroom and toward the pile of coats on the bedroom floor.
“How much space?” He trails after me.
“Acres. Miles. Months. Years. Forever. I don’t know.” I shove my feet into the boots.
“I know you’re upset. Talk to me.” He touches my chin, lifting it. “Which part of this is the hardest?”
“Everything. All of it.” I shrug on the coat and set the Stetson on my head. “I don’t even know where to start, Jarret.”
“Try.”
I stare at the door, itching to escape as I contemplate his question out loud.
“Looking back at my marriage, I feel so removed from it that it confuses my private memories with the ones I placed outside myself when he disappeared. I put on a brave front and let myself become that callous mask.” I slide on the gloves, cold and wet from melted snow. “I despised him for leaving me. But now I don’t know if he actually did. What I do know is that when we were together, life was good. I was happy with him. We didn’t have the passion and fire that you and I have, but I felt something for him. I can’t just sweep that under the rug and brush off my hands. I need to sort these feelings.”
“Sort it here.” He steps into my space. “With me.”
“No.” I back toward the door. “I’m so wrapped up in you I let six months blur by before I told you I was married. Nothing else exists when you’re all up in my space. Give me some breathing room.”
His jaw clenches. Then he grips his brow and nods.
I hurry through the house, out the front door, and make a beeline for the stable. Inside the building, it’s warm and quiet and filled with warm, welcoming nuzzles from Chicken.
I sit beside her in her stall, stroking the white cowlicks on her head.
And I cry.
Trembling, sobbing, blubbering nonsense pollutes the stable and unsettles the horses.
I beat myself up for being so weak and emotional and dry my eyes.
Then I cry some more.
Why is this so hard? Either I stay or leave. Simple as that.
If I look deep inside, the answer is written all over my trampled heart. I’ve loved a lot in twenty-six years, and it’s never been enough.
I loved my dad when I was little, and he left me without offering a reason.
I loved Chris in high school, and he left me to pursue a job in New York.
I loved Scott in college and he left me for another woman.
I loved Rogan, and he… He probably left me, too.
None of them wanted to keep me. None fought for me in any way. Perhaps they never loved me. Perhaps what I felt for them wasn’t love at all. Perhaps I am not enough.
Was Rogan even with me for me? He knew I had money, and his sights were set on Julep Ranch before he met me. He hired hit men, for Christ’s sake. If he was willing to murder his own family to satisfy his goal, he could’ve married me for money.
Jarret’s the first and only man who’s ever given me a sense of mutual attachment. He loves me with the same depth and intensity that I love him. At least, I think he does. What if I’m wrong? Would he fight for me? Do I want him to?
He’s murdered people. Bad men for good reasons. But he’s still a killer. And I love him regardless. I’m not okay with that.
This isn’t about who’s a better man, who I love more, or who loves me in return.
It’s about acceptance.
Can I accept the path I’m on, the choices I’ve made, and the woman I’ve become? Can I stand at Jarret’s side twenty years from now and accept the crimes, deceit, and deaths that led me there?
I can forgive him, but I don’t know how to forgive myself.
If I stay, it must be with a guilt-free conscience. No deep-seeded resentment, confusion, or distrust. If I walk back into his arms with any doubts at all, they’ll fester and multiply and poison everything good in us.
I lost myself in him for six months without telling him about Rogan. Because I was scared. What’s stopping me from falling into that trap again? I don’t want to wake up fifty years from now and realize I’ve been living in a toxic relationship built on great sex and…