A montage of light from the television flickered as I willed my eyes open. When the warm, muscled body beneath me shifted, I used any remaining energy I had left to lift my head and came face to face with a sleepy-eyed Jaxxon. I’d fallen asleep on top of him on his couch.

For the first time in the last two weeks, I felt rested.

Strong fingers parted my hair and hooked it behind my ears. “Hey, you.”

I swiveled on top of him toward the coffee table to grab my phone. 1:30 a.m. “Oh, God.” I let my head fall back down on his chest. “I’m so sorry. Did you sleep at all?”

“No.”

His roughened voice caused my stomach to flutter. The warmth of his hand wrapped around my nape seeped into my skin. I peeked back up at him. “What were you doing while I used you as a mattress?”

“Enjoying the view. It’s the most peaceful I’ve seen you in a while.”

Resting my chin on one hand, I touched his cheek with the other. “Sounds pretty boring.” I pushed up and ran my lips over his before sitting up and straddling his thighs.

“Nah, I like watching you sleep.” He cocked his head to the side on the pillow. “You were knocked out cold. You only moved to snuggle closer.”

“How long?” I rubbed my eyes and opened them wide, trying to get my bearings. I had to leave. I’d give anything to stay with him, but not after what I’d put him through last time.

“Two hours, give or take.”

“What?” I swung my head back to him. “Why didn’t you wake me?”

“Again, peaceful.” He nodded to the kitchen. “Coffee?”

“Yes, please.” Lifting my leg over him, I scooted to the edge of the couch to let him up.

“Got ya covered.” He sighed and stood. Holding his shoulder, he rotated it around while he walked.

I watched him stroll into the kitchen, appreciating the sexy gait he had. He never hurried. He just . . . strolled. Jaxxon speed, I called it. And what a sight to behold.

Strong, muscled thighs led to a firm, toned ass and up to my second favorite part of his anatomy, his back. He had the most beautiful back and upper body. The expanse of him from shoulder to shoulder had to be at least three feet of nothing but rock hard muscle and raw power.

Before he reached the actual kitchen, he turned to me and caught me gawking at him.

His sexy laugh went straight between my thighs. “Sugar, you eye-fuckin’ me?”

“What! No . . . ” I sat up straighter and pulled the hem of his t-shirt down.

“I’m pretty sure that’s what you were doin’.” He leaned a hip against the counter with a cocky smirk.

“Well, I wasn’t. I was—watching you walk.” Because it’s hot as hell.

“That right? Look all you want, baby, but say the word and I’ll deliver the real thing.”

I’m pretty sure my mouth fell open when he shook his head at me and chuckled. “You have a great walk. What? Sue me.”

“Just the walk, huh?”

“Just the walk.”

“All right, then. Coffee comin’ up.” He winked before turning around to the coffee pot. “Bullshit, just the walk.” He grinned, before nodding down the hall. “Go. I’ll get this ready.”

With a long exhale, I pushed off the couch and walked down the hall to his room to get my clothes and purse. If I sat there ogling him any longer, I’d be here all night, and he wasn’t joking. The man had the stamina of a damned triathlete when it came to sex.

The overwhelming urge to cry hit me when I thought about how beautifully he’d made love to me earlier, because that’s exactly what it had been. I’d almost told him I loved him three different times. I wanted to scream it. The unsaid words were a constant weight I carried around. What I felt had been more than casual, since the first kiss, no matter what I told myself.

I’d been so good up until that night. Nothing I couldn’t handle. But then I’d asked him to stay, and I had the one memory I’d been afraid of—the one where I experienced what should have been my death. So how did we work?

Since the night he’d stayed, I’d had it again. All of them, again. One worse than the other, more details coming each time. I had my own Freddy Krueger, except my monster had been real.

Was I being selfish staying with him? Not tonight. I’d think about it tomorrow. He’d made tonight beautiful.

When I finally walked back into the family room and down the stairs to the den, two cups of coffee sat on the table.

Next to a black velvet box.

He sat on the couch, elbows resting on his knees, his blue baseball hat turned backwards. When he heard me enter, he looked at me then nodded to the cup. “Stronger than fuck, Stevia and that coconut-flavored creamer crap—all you, baby.”

I dropped my bag into his giant chair and moved to stand beside him. “You bought me coconut creamer?”

“It appears so, which means you better get your ass back here in the morning, because I won’t drink that shit.” He patted the cushion beside him. “Sit.”

I continued to stand. “Thank you for buying my creamer.” I ran a hand through his thick ponytail. When he looked up at me, I nodded to the box and raised an eyebrow. “What’s that?”

He chuckled up at me. “Nothing to get worked up about, Sparky.”

Like he hadn’t done enough? “I told you not to get me anything, Jaxx. You’ve already done too much. My office. Helping me train. Dinner.” I waved a hand at the couch. “Letting me use you as the best bed ever. You didn’t have to do this. You . . . being with you is enough.”

Sharp golden green eyes drilled into mine. “This is different.”

Rick had been the king of gifts—he never missed birthdays, anniversaries, or holidays. Always with the over-the-top gifts that never required much thought. Generic, yet expensive to elicit attention, which of course stroked his ego. All diversions.

I hated jewelry as a rule. Jewelry should mean something—like wedding rings. But that had been a façade too.

The fact that I was once again staring at a black velvet box had my stomach twisting. But Jaxxon was not Rick, which made whatever was in the box much scarier, because there was genuine thought behind it. Jaxxon had nearly torn down every one of my defenses. But I needed to keep my past buried. I didn’t want it staining his life.

The smirk that lit up his face helped quell some of my unease. “Do you always give people who give you gifts on your birthday this much shit? Sit down and drink your coffee.” He tugged the bottom of the T-shirt until I sat next to him in a huff. “You’re overthinking it, baby.”

“Too much.” I shook my head at him. “I asked you not to do this.”

“Stop.” He picked up the cup and handed it to me. “Drink. I need you awake to drive.”

“Oh, I’m awake. You don’t listen to me.” I took a sip from the steaming cup. Perfect. He knew exactly how I liked it. “That’s spectacular. Thank you.”

“Yeah,” he snickered. “Wasn’t hard. Half a cup of creamer, Stevia, and a touch of the strong stuff. We seriously need to work on your creamer addiction. Coffee shouldn’t look like chocolate milk.” Turning the bill of his hat back around, he grabbed his own cup and leaned back against the cushion, shutting off the television. “And I always listen to you.”

Little static-like tingles shimmied up my arms, across my breasts to tease at my nipples, all signs his eyes were on me. My body, traitorous blight, heated around him as if I hadn’t seen him in months.

We sat in silence, drinking coffee as I snuggled under his arm.

He pressed his warm lips against my forehead. “So are you gonna just stare at it or open the fuckin’ thing?”

I put the cup on the table and curled into him. He wrapped around me, holding me against him. “Can I sit here a minute, please?”

“All night, sugar . . . but I know you won’t.” The last part had come out softer than the first, laced with disappointment.

While unintentional, those words were like a sword through my heart. Jaxxon wasn’t intentionally hurtful. It was a fact, he was acknowledging it, and he was right. I wouldn’t stay. The cold slap of my selfishness, blindsided me like a right hook.

Normal . . . Who had I been kidding? He deserved someone who could actually sleep beside him at night without making him bleed. It didn’t matter how much I wanted to be with him, how much I loved him. It didn’t matter that he already owned my heart.

I blinked quickly, trying not to let the threatening tears loose and ruin what had been a perfect night. I sat up quickly, his arm falling behind me as I scooted to the edge of the couch. Seconds turned to minutes as I sat there, legs pressed tight together, wringing my hands. I stared at the gift as if it were a serpent. Taking a deep breath, I reached for the palm-sized box.

The soft, smooth velvet felt like a caress against the palms of my hands—a silky, beautiful, heartbreaking caress.

Playing with the lip of the box, I squeezed my eyelids shut and popped the lid.

When I opened my eyes, my breath caught in my throat. Tears poured down my face in uncontrolled streams. I opened my mouth, but I couldn’t speak. I almost dropped the box from my trembling hands.

“You—you designed this.” It was too unique to be duplicated.

“Yeah, but a friend made it for me. I’m good, but not that good. My design, his construction.” His warm voice beside me held a hint of humor I wasn’t feeling.

At first glance, every color on the spectrum appeared to be represented, but on closer inspection, vibrant oranges, fiery reds, and warm yellows dominated the handcrafted pendant, giving it the illusion of being both on fire and alive at the same time. Vividly alive.

Holding the box upright in my left hand, the heavy black script of my tattoo sprawled across my peripheral vision. Die and rise—just like the myth of the Phoenix.

I dropped the box back on the table and pressed my hands over my face to stop from shaking my head as some sort of mania kicked in hard.

Sobs wracked my frame. Jaxxon’s arm came around my back and I stiffened to stay where I was, forcing him to pull me to his side.

“Why . . . ” I choked out. “Why a phoenix?”

“Valentina,” he said. “Hey, hey. Hey, baby. Look at me.”

I shook my head harder. “Why?”

Dr. Rhodes had said I reminded her of a phoenix. I never understood the connection. In theory, I got what she meant, but I never believed it, especially the rising part. I battled. I existed. Not sure I ever actually rose from the ashes of my past, so the phoenix disturbed me.

He wrapped his large hands around my biceps and hauled me onto his lap. “Move your hands, sugar. Come on.”

He shackled my wrists, but I stubbornly kept my hands over my face.

I was too exposed, too vulnerable. If I stayed longer, I’d be unable to fight this pressure about to burst through every pore, this compulsion to unload everything, show him everything, to burden him with all of it, but then to have to watch the pity stain the way he looked at me, watch my past destroy what we’d become . . . I refused to do that to him or to us.

With a small yank, he pulled my arms out in front of me, palms up.

I kept my eyes down, refusing to look at him. If I did, I wouldn’t do the right thing.

“This.” He ran his hand over my tattoo, right over the thickest part of the script, over the lifted, damaged, sewn-together skin. “This is why a phoenix. You cover the tattoo. Like you’re ashamed of it, when you shouldn’t be. Look, baby. I don’t know what the hell you went through. But after that night, I saw the extent to which it still torments you. That tattoo . . . the words you had permanently engraved into your skin . . . there’s a reason you chose those words that I think you’ve forgotten. You came back.”

“Stop! Jaxx—please—you don’t know what you’re talking about.” That night . . . That night . . . His words. Over and over and over in my head. I dropped my chin to my chest at the ripping sensation ricocheting from left to right.

Something inside me broke.

My muscles jumped, quaked. Perspiration beaded my forehead. I wrenched my arms back and fisted the T-shirt I was wearing, rubbing it up and down my chest with both hands.

Maneuvering me so I straddled his thighs, he wrapped his hands around both wrists and tugged my hands to his chest. “Valentina, look at me. Right now.”

His tone was unyielding, leaving me no choice but to raise my eyes. The second our gazes connected, my shoulders collapsed and I dropped my head, but he flattened a hand just under my throat and pushed my head back up. “What are you so fucking afraid of? Is it not clear to you? Whatever happened didn’t break you. You came back stronger.”

Stronger?

I jerked away from him, but he wrapped his hands around my thighs, keeping me on his lap. “Stronger?” I hissed. “Stronger!”

Adrenaline pumped, built, and had no outlet. I felt like a feral animal, trapped.

“I can’t stay with you! You can’t sleep with me. Jesus Christ—” I dug the heels of both palms into my forehead. “Look what happened. Is that what you want? Me, waking in violent rages, so lost, so tormented, I can’t decipher the present from the past? No, Jaxx. You don’t. You said it yourself, you hate drama. My baggage?” I scoffed. “‘Drama’ doesn’t come close to describing it. My shit is black fucking tar, etched so deep in my psyche, it’s a part of me—who I am. It’s not going away. This is my problem. Not yours. You don’t need that in your life.”

I lunged off of him, but he was too fast, grabbing my shoulders and, holding me in place.

The color drained from his gorgeous face and his eyes lost all traces of green, instead turning a bright amber I’d only seen the one time at Lowe’s. Tension pumped across his chest as his muscles pulsed and contracted, stretching his shirt tight.

“Baby.” The edginess of that single word, usually said as a loving endearment, now came across as a warning. “Do not make assumptions about what I need or what I want unless it’s your ass in my fucking bed. If that’s not it, you need to talk to me. No more dodges.”

“No.”

“Jesus fucking Christ! Do you think that little of me?”

“I think the world of you.”

“The fuck you do,” he thundered.

I slammed both hands against his cheeks, locking my eyes to his. I dug my fingers into the back of his head. “Oh no, love. No bullshit. I won’t do this to you.”

His hands mirrored mine on my face. “That’s my fucking choice. Not yours.”

My eyes hurt from jumping back and forth between his. He was serious. Could he not see the problem with this? With us? He was thinking immediate, right now, when I knew the future for him if he stayed was paved with problems he didn’t need. In which case, telling him about my past was irrelevant. There was only one way to make him see.

Tightening my grip on his head, I pulled his face a little closer. “Jaxxon. Think for a second. Think.” I squeezed again, willing him to hear me. “Over time, if you and I make it. If I can work through what I deal with, what happens then? The nightmares aren’t going away. What if we’re living together and your children are over when I have one? What you saw is fucking mild compared to other nights I’ve had. Tell me, how are you going to explain to Leah that your girlfriend frightened your children to death, waking them up in the middle of the night screaming, crying, puking? To Kyle barking in the dead of night? No.” I shook my head and pushed off of him. “I won’t do that to you.”

As I backed up, he stood up from the couch, towering over me. “First,” he said as he stalked toward me. “You’re way ahead here, baby. And let me be clear, I’m not pissed about you bringing my children into this, because I know your heart’s in the right place. I don’t doubt for a fuckin’ second you fear that scenario more than you do me seeing what you go through. However, you will leave them out of this, because this is between us. You’re overreacting and side-stepping the real problem—you trusting me.”

When he stepped within arm’s distance, I shuffled around his table. I grabbed my bag from the chair, hauled the strap over my head, and backed up to the stairs.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going? Listen, hon . . . I’m trying hard not to get heated, so I need you to tell me what’s really going on, and I mean like fuckin’ yesterday.”

I missed my window.

I should have run. I should have bolted out the door, out of his life when I had the chance. Instead, I stared up at his chiseled, bearded face, his hazel eyes laced with not only anger, but if I wasn’t wrong, a genuine concern that fractured my heart.

The muscles convulsing inside my chest, the sharp spasms racking my lungs, and the rapid slamming of that small organ against my rib cage had to be why people used the expression “broke my heart.” But it wasn’t strong enough. My heart wasn’t breaking. It was dying.

I swallowed the first sob. It shook my body as he reached me.

His hands settled on my shoulders and his voice came out soft, but firm. “Relax for a second, baby. Jesus Christ, breathe. Don’t run. Tell me what I’m missing.” He moved a hand to my cheek and I pressed into his touch, tears falling over the top of his hand.

I forced myself to meet his eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” I mumbled. I clutched at his hand, bringing it to my mouth and kissing his open palm, before settling it between my breasts over my heart. “I want you to be happy.”

The hand I’d been holding shot up around the nape of my neck and he pulled me into a hard embrace, locking one arm around my back, the other around my waist. The tension in his grip was so strong the energy raging through him jumped to me.

“Fuck, baby. Settle down. You make me happy. Have you somehow missed that over the past months? Have you missed that somewhere over the past fucking months, I’ve fallen in love with you, and I know you love me too, so you don’t have to say it. I know it. ” He dug his thumbs into my scalp as he held my head. When our eyes met, he roared, shook his head, and moved closer to me. “Christ . . . Don’t bail on this. I can see it in your fucking eyes.”

One more second. Just let me stay with him for one more second . . .

I exhaled and wedged my arms between us, slamming both my palms against his chest. “I—I have to go.”

Ducking under his arm, I spun toward the hallway. I got up the steps and almost to the door when his huge body pinned mine against the door from behind. He interlocked his fingers with mine, keeping me caged between him and the door. Every hard inch of him pressed against some part of my body.

Despite the past that had come back to haunt me and my failed marriage, I’d never thought of myself as terminally fucked up.

I knew I wasn’t normal. I desperately wanted to be, but there was a darkness I couldn’t escape, which had this second become crystal clear. I was unlovable. Not because I was a bad person or anything, but because I could never be in a regular relationship. I was broken that way.

But when he pushed me up against the oak door so hard my head spun, the breath pushing out of my lungs from the impact, and my body responded to the pain with a jolt of anticipation . . . I realized damaged didn’t cover it. I was fucked up in an irreparable way, because I’d never wanted anyone as bad as I did Jaxxon just then. What did that make me? Broken.

All I wanted in that moment was his body buried deep inside mine—even if it were only one last time and it would torment me for the rest of my life. I didn’t give a shit. My heart and my love were dead the second I walked out of here, because they both belonged to him. And because I loved him, I’d let him go.

His lips trailed up my neck, ending at my ear. He stretched our locked hands high above my head. “Jesus, Valentina . . . Tell me I wasn’t fucking wrong about you. You are not this weak.” The words were soft, but the steel behind them shot straight through me and shattered what was left of my heart. “Are you leaving me?”

“Yes,” I choked out, the side of my face plastered against the wooden door.

His hips dug into mine, the length of his cock pressed between my ass cheeks. Anger and loss had become living, breathing energies—dangerous for the both of us. For him, because he couldn’t understand why I’d leave when he knew I loved him. For me, because I did love him and wouldn’t complicate his life with my past. I’d been selfish long enough.

“If you’re fucking leaving, tell me why.” His voice was clipped in a way I hadn’t heard before. He was shutting down.

I tugged and wrenched my hands out of his, then forced myself around between his big body and the door to glare up at him. “I’m broken, Jaxxon! Not normal. There, you want to hear me say it? See behind the wall? Break me down. I’m. Fucking. Broken. I can’t have a normal relationship. Ever. Look how I am with you! The things I want with you—I shouldn’t crave . . . this.” I motioned between us with one hand. “I shouldn’t crave you the way I do when I know I can’t be with you long-term.” I shook my head hard. “It was wrong of me. Selfish!”

He leaned into me, and son of a bitch, if I didn’t melt right back into him. “It was one fucking night. You think one bad night would scare me off? I’m not that man. And what the hell do you mean you shouldn’t want the things you want with me? What part of our sex life shouldn’t you want or enjoy? You’re ashamed because you want me? You talk about being normal—that’s normal, whatever the fuck that means. I’ll take different over normal all day long. You’re not a bad person because you have a fucked up past or needs as a woman. Goddamn it. Trust me enough to tell me why you’re doing this or tell me you don’t love me. Tell me that and I’ll let you walk. Done.”

The one thing I couldn’t do. And he knew it. It would be so easy. Four little words. The easy out for the both of us. I could sever it. Give him closure, and then it would just be me who had to deal with this pain.

And I’d survived worse . . .

His warm lips skimmed the shell of my ear until he bit down hard on my earlobe.

I slammed my head back into the door, letting the pain ground me.

“You can’t say it, but you can’t deny it, can you?” He dropped his head to my shoulder and put his mouth to my ear. “At least you didn’t lie to me.”

The moan was out before I could stop it, and it was all he needed. He pulled back enough to rip my bag over my head and drop it to the floor. His hands shackled my biceps and he leaned down so his eyes met mine. “Don’t. Fucking. Move.”

I wept as he dropped to his knees.

I almost fell over as he yanked my pants and underwear down my legs, leaving both pooled around one foot. The doorknob helped keep me upright. His fingers dug into my right thigh, right over my scar, and he hauled it over his shoulder. The second his tongue licked up my cleft, I ripped the hat off his head and shoved my hands through his hair, holding his face to me.

Maybe I shouldn’t have wanted this. Maybe this made me even more fucked up, but his hot tongue lapping at me at this maddening pace, or his heavy cock deep inside me, were the only time I’d ever experienced any sort of peace or sense of belonging.

Just one more time.

The second he worked two fingers inside me and sucked my clit into his mouth, my hips pushed into him, the tension in my legs peaking and dissipating to the point I’d have fallen if his arm hadn’t crossed up over my chest. Bright lights danced behind my eyelids as my hungry body clutched at his fingers. I’d never come that quick. Not even with him.

He stood, lifting me with him on his way up until he reached his full height. Somewhere between kneeling and standing, he’d managed to get his shorts down. He held me up under the arms and I wrapped my legs around his waist. Lifting me higher against the door, he pulled one of my throbbing nipples into his mouth and sucked hard through the material of my shirt. He lapped at the swollen bud until I groaned, then bit down as he wedged one hand between us to pinch the lips of my pussy around his cock, making a tighter fit as he slid his thick head back and forth over my clit, rocking me into sharper spasms.

I gasped with each slide of his soft head over my saturated core, until he slashed his mouth across mine in a punishing kiss. As if we both knew this was the last time we’d be together, we clung to each other. His lips caressed and sucked mine in a thorough, loving rhythm one minute, only to plunge his tongue deep and hungry between them the next. With my back up against the door, it took little effort for him to hold me the way he wanted me.

He pressed his forehead against mine, both our hands now buried in each other’s hair. “Look at me,” he hissed against my mouth. As soon as our eyes met, he pressed inside me slow and hard without stopping until he was seated to the hilt, and we both cried out at his tight invasion. Where he normally gave me a minute to adjust to his size, now he didn’t.

Our eyes stayed locked the entire time. He took his time pulling out, but slid back in harder than the last. He kept up the tortuous pace, holding my head still, his eyes locked to mine. In and out, he dragged himself through my tight channel, hitting my G-spot with each upward thrust. There was no space between us. Pressed so tight together, with each penetration, his pelvis hit my clit in just the right angle that my oversensitive body raged back to life, craving the release he alone was in complete control of.

He never moved faster, even when I begged him to. His movements became harder, deeper, but never faster.

The harder he pushed inside me, the more swollen I became. I needed to come, but didn’t want the sweet torture to end, knowing I’d relive this moment over and over. Without letting up, he leaned back, his face less than an inch from mine. I untangled my hands from his hair and framed his face, watching different emotions flicker across his handsome features.

“Don’t do this,” he said, in a low tortured voice. “Stay with me, sugar.”

I squeezed my eyes shut. I’d started out hating that endearment, but he only used it when we were intimate, and now it was like hearing my name on his lips, beautiful . . . yet now heartbreaking. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, pulling him as close as I could get him, burying my face in his neck.

His head tilted against mine. “Goddamn you,” he whispered, and at last began to pump into me faster.

I flexed my ankles around his waist and used my hold on his shoulders to push down as he pressed up. I rubbed my face against his wet shoulder, kissing his neck with an open mouth as his fist tightened in my hair.

“Jaxxon,” I pleaded into his ear. “I—I . . . ”

Now he pulled back and grabbed my face. “Say it,” he demanded through clenched teeth. “If you’re leaving, you fucking say it. You give me that.”

His pelvis hit my clit over and over as the momentum between us turned almost painful. My blood raced at his words, centering in my core and exploding around us both. My body clenched at his, sucking him deeper into me until he roared my name and came just after me.

I clutched at him hard. My chest jumped with each breath I tried to suck in. I put my lips to his ear. “I love you,” I whimpered, kissing his neck. He leaned into me, holding me against the door with his body, and grabbing my hair in both hands so hard I cried out.

“Then stay,” he ground out. “Trust me and fucking stay.”

I tilted my head, looking into his ever-changing hazel eyes for what might have been the last time, not giving a shit about the tears streaming down my face. “Love isn’t enough.”

He pushed his forehead against mine and pulled out of my body slowly, lowering me to the floor. Ripping off his shirt, he cleaned me off and fixed my pants, pulling them back in place, before his own.

“You’re making a mistake.” His voice had dropped so low I had to strain to hear him. He inhaled deep and exhaled long, running a hand up and through the top of his hair. “You aren’t the only one who took a risk here, Valentina. You walk out that door . . . that’s it for me. I won’t do this again. I trusted you. Take a chance and trust me now. I won’t leave. I don’t quit.”

I don’t quit.

Those words were the nails in the coffin that was us.

He’d stay with me out of obligation.

I had enough dignity left to not settle for letting someone as good as him give up a chance at a happy life due to an obligation to someone as damaged as me. I lifted my bag over my shoulder, keeping my eyes on the floor. “I’ve heard that before.”

His disgusted scoff echoed through the empty living room and he put a hand on my hip, gently moving me to the right. “You know what, sweetness. You’re right. Your shit is deep. Deeper than you realize. It wasn’t clear until just this second . . . and fuck me, I should’ve seen it. Those demons that haunt you, they’re not from whatever it is you’re keeping from me. They’re from a past that doesn’t even go too far back.”

When I glanced up at him, he wouldn’t look at me. And then everything happened in slow motion. He reached for the doorknob, twisted, and opened the door. Whatever was left in my stomach from dinner rushed up and threatened to expel all over his hardwood floor.

He held the door and nodded outside. “Get out.”

I ducked under his arm and ran down his walkway, across the grass to my car. Once behind the wheel, I slammed my head against it and let the pain wash over me. Angry, lost, desperate sobs racked my body. A frightening sense of emptiness consumed me, to the point I almost bolted out of the car and begged him to give me another chance.

I threw the gear shift into drive and chanced a glance at the house. The lights had gone out and I stared at the closed door for a second before pulling away from the curb, from the house, from the man who would forever own my heart.