Total pages in book: 43
Estimated words: 39300 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 197(@200wpm)___ 157(@250wpm)___ 131(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 39300 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 197(@200wpm)___ 157(@250wpm)___ 131(@300wpm)
"Oh, Dalton." I take a step toward him, but he shakes his head, holding up a trembling hand.
"It's just been me and my little cousin, Lena, ever since. Our grandfather took us in and raised us because it's what they would have wanted, but opening his heart to us? That was harder for him. He lost his world when their plane went down. And I'm the fucking asshole who said he hoped they died."
Tears spring to my eyes, my heart breaking for him. He was just a kid.
"I never wanted marriage or a family, Tempest. Because if I didn't…" He swallows audibly. "If I didn't have one…"
"You didn't have anyone else to lose," I finish softly when he trails off again as if he can't force himself to say the words.
He nods, looking wrecked in a way that hurts to see.
I knew about the accident that took his parents. It's not a big secret. But, God, I never realized…I don't think I understood until now just how deeply it scarred him. No wonder he doesn't want this marriage. No wonder he's so determined to keep me at arm's length. He's terrified to let anyone get close because, in his world, love means grief and pain and unbearable guilt. It means losing everything.
He swallows hard, staring at me like I hold the answers to the universe. "So why the fuck do you have me all fucked up in the head, baby?" he demands, his voice a rough growl of sound. "Why do I look at you and wish like hell that you didn't hate me?"
He thinks I hate him?
"Dalton, I don't–"
He laughs, the sound jagged, and takes a step toward me. "Why does the thought of you as my wife make me so fucking hard?"
"Dalton." My heart jackhammers against my ribs. He's killing me, one word at a time. Does he even realize it? Does he know how much I'd give to hear him say any of this and actually mean it? "You don't mean that."
"Yesterday, for the first time since I lost my parents, I imagined what it'd be like to let myself have love again, Tempest. To trust myself enough not to fucking destroy it." He expels a harsh breath, dragging a hand through his dark hair. "You've got me so fucked up in the head, so desperate for you, that the agony of losing it all seems worth the risk."
He shut his heart off, hoping he wouldn't have to feel because he felt too much. He carries guilt that isn't his to carry, wearing it like armor.
But life doesn't work that way.
We can't earn forgiveness by refusing to grow. And we can't bring back the dead by refusing to move on. I didn't know his parents, but I don't think this is what they'd want for him. My father may be incapable of love, but I have to believe that his wasn't—that his parents adored him and would want happiness for him even if my own never wanted it for me.
"You can't just shut off your heart, Dalton," I whisper. "It doesn't work that way."
His jaw tightens. "Except for Lena and the old man, no one's touched mine in twenty-one years. I swore no one ever would."
"Which means there's no room in it for me." The words scratch my throat. I already knew, but saying it out loud hurts. I'm hopelessly in love with him, and he'll never feel the same. He can't because he won't let himself.
I want to sob for him and everything he lost, for the broken little boy still grieving his parents, the one who thinks he deserved to grow up an orphan for what he said. No one deserves that. No matter what he said as a little boy, he didn't deserve that. He wasn't responsible for that plane going down. He has to know that.
But he's so damn afraid, so lost…he doesn't know it. He punishes himself because, in his mind, the alternative—finding happiness—means losing the piece of them he's held onto all these years.
That kills me because, in this moment, I'm more sure than ever that I can't marry him. Because he was right in his office. This marriage would be a prison. And little by little, the gilt would wear off, and I'd see the bars for what they were.
Loving a man who can't love me would kill me. I've watched my mother do it my entire life, and part of me has always hated him for doing that to her. I don't want to end up hating this man, too.
"No, dammit. You don't understand," he growls, striding toward me, purpose in his steps. "I'm here because I want you to marry me. Right now. Tonight."
I gape at him, certain I misheard. Convinced he's way more intoxicated than I thought. "You don't mean that."