Damien

“Daddy,” Sami whispers in my ear, lowering her head even closer to mine, her blonde curls tickling my cheek. “Daddy, wake up. I need pancakes. Chocolate chip and banana pancakes,” she states, her tone a little annoyed. I peel one eye open to look at her. Her arms are folded across her chest and her blue eyes are staring me down as if she’s trying to will me awake. When she sees my open eye, her lips curve up and she bats her little lashes. My baby girl learned at a very early age there isn’t much I won’t do for her. She has me wrapped right around her little finger.

“Good morning, baby girl,” I say as I place a kiss on her cheek. She giggles before scurrying off the bed and out of the room, the sound of her feet padding down the stairs resonating as I make my way to the bathroom. I relieve myself and brush my teeth, then head off to the kitchen, grateful it’s Saturday and I’m fortunate enough to have weekends off unless we’re shorthanded.

“Move it, Daddy! I’m hungry!” Sami yells from the kitchen. My girl can be a little sassy when she’s hungry. It makes me smile. I don’t know how a girl so little can eat so damn much. I’ve seen teenage boys eat less. I walk into the kitchen, shaking my head, and proceed to make the love of my life chocolate chip and banana pancakes.

When I set the plate of pancakes on the counter in front of Sami, her eyes widen and she claps her little hands together. I slide the bottle of syrup in front of her, but she shakes her head no.

“You don’t want syrup?” Normally, she’d be drowning her pancakes in it.

“Can I have the fluffy stuff instead?” she asks, and I look over to my sister, my eyebrow raised. What the hell is fluffy stuff?

“Whipped cream,” Dahlia, my sister, clarifies as she walks into the kitchen. When Sami’s mom walked out, my sister came to the rescue. My hours are unpredictable, but Dahlia managed to basically become Sami’s nanny while going to college part-time. I wouldn’t be able to do this without her, and Sami idolizes her.

Walking over to the fridge, she pulls out the whipped cream and loads up Sami’s pancakes. “I made them the other morning. We were out of syrup, so I tried whipped cream hoping to avoid a meltdown,” she says, lowering her voice to a whisper. I shake my head and smile. Most of the time, my little girl is the sweetest three-year-old you’ve ever met, but there are times where she can act spoiled when she doesn’t get what she wants. I suppose I’m to blame for that. When she bats those long eyelashes of hers and smiles that sweet little smile, I fold like a house of cards.

Dahlia makes herself a cup of coffee, then sits at the bar across from me. She has this look on her face—one that says I know something you don’t know.

“Okay, D. Spill it,” I urge as I rest my elbows on the counter. She smirks at me.

“Well...while I was out on my run, I stopped by Lou’s for coffee and a bagel, and you’ll never guess who I ran into.” I raise an eyebrow at her, not in the mood to play twenty questions. “Fine,” she huffs. “Kassidy. I ran into Kassidy. She said Tinsley is in town,” she states with a shrug of her shoulders, and my eyes go wide as my stomach free falls into my knees.

Bracing the island, my fingers gripping the edges, I bow my head. My heart races, and I lean forward, my eyes unfocused as I stare at the marble top. The image of the sad, broken look on Tinsley’s face that has been etched into my brain for the last ten years—a look I put there—flashes through my mind, and I wince.

“Tinsley? My Tinsley?” I ask, my voice nothing more than a whisper. I dart my gaze over to my sister. Her eyebrows shoot up as her lips tip into a cocky grin.

“Your Tinsley? She hasn’t been your Tinsley in a very long time, and you have no one but yourself to blame for that,” she huffs, still pissed I let Tinsley go, but I had to. I was only going to hold her back, and I couldn’t do that to her.

“How long is she here for?” I ask, pushing back from the island and straightening. I run my hand through my hair and down over my face, hoping it’s a brief visit. I don’t think I can face her, and Seymour is small town where everyone knows everyone. There’s no hiding anything, and trying not to run into someone is almost impossible, especially since I’m the deputy sheriff. It’s one of the reasons I love this town, but right now, I hate it for this exact reason.

“Kassidy said she’s here for the next six months—maybe longer. She just went through a divorce,” Dahlia explains. “I can’t wait to see her. It’s been so long.” Her smile is wide, but I feel like I’m going to stroke out. The idea of being face to face with her has my anxiety levels skyrocketing. Groaning, I scrub my hands over my face before dropping onto the stool next to Dahlia. Fuck, this could be a mess. But…maybe it won’t be. A small smile touches my lips.

“Don’t even think about it,” Dahlia says, glaring at me.

“What?” I ask, throwing my hands up in surrender. “I didn’t say anything.”

“Oh, you didn’t have to. I saw that look, and it sounds like she’s been through enough. The last thing she needs is for you to break her heart again. Just leave her be,” she demands, her eyes hard, and my shoulders slump as the hope building in my chest deflates. She’s probably right. I’m still pissed at myself for pushing her away after all these years, so I’m sure she hasn’t gotten over me breaking her heart—not that I blame her.

Dahlia’s gaze turns back to Sami and softens before she kisses her on the cheek and places her cup in the sink. She snaps narrowed eyes back toward me, then storms up the stairs. I groan again and bang my head on the island.

If anyone knows how much Tinsley meant to me, it would be Dahlia. She was there when everything happened, and helped me nurse my broken heart—after scolding me like a dog who ate her favorite shoes. I push back from the island and stand again as emotions I can’t pinpoint run through me. I could see Tinsley again, and while the thought thrills me, it also terrifies me. So much has happened. So much time has passed. So many things left unsaid…

10 Years Ago

“Where do you see us in ten years?” Tinsley runs her hand over my chest as we lay in the grass at the edge of a small lake. She tilts her head up, her big chocolate brown eyes filled with love and hope, and I smile.

“Married,” I say, brushing her hair away from her face. “Living in a nice house on the lake. One or two rug rats running around,” I continue, running my finger down her cheek. Since the first time I laid eyes on Tinsley, I knew I’d marry her someday, and all I’ve wanted to do since that day is make her happy. Her eyes lower, a sadness washing over her, and my heart clenches, wondering what I could have said.

“Hey, what’s with the long face?” I ask, tipping her chin up so she meets my eyes. “Is my vision that horrible?”

Shaking her head, she takes in a deep breath. “You want to stay here?” she asks, seeming hesitant, unsure, as her eyes search mine.

“Of course. Don’t you?” My brows furrow. Leaving has never crossed my mind. This is the perfect place to raise a family. She looks up to the sky, and I hold my breath, waiting for her to answer.

“No. I don’t,” she whispers, pain lacing each syllable. My heart thunders in my chest. “I want to go to college. Tampa is my first choice. I know you want to be a sheriff, but you could do that in Florida.”

Now, it’s my turn to shake my head. Yes, I want to join the sheriff’s department, just not in a huge city. I like the idea of knowing everyone in town, and everyone knowing me.

“I’m not a big city kind of guy. I love this town. And you’ve never mentioned this before. I knew you’d want to go to college, but I didn’t think you wanted to go somewhere out of state.” The looks she gives me is sorrowful, and my heart shatters.

“I want—no, I need a change of scenery,” she says, shaking her head. “A change of pace. There are so many things I want to experience. So many things I want to see.” Her tone pleads with me to understand, but I don’t—I can’t. And I can’t help but think this is her way of moving on from me, which hurts just as much as it pisses me off. I’m not leaving, but she won’t stay. My future has always been here. With her. Raising our family. It’s what I’ve always envisioned.

“I get it,” I tell her, plastering a fake smile on my face. Her head rests on my chest, and I pull her closer to me. Neither of us speak, both lost in our own thoughts. She plans to leave me, and know matter how much I love her, I can’t be that guy—the one who forces her to stay with me and give up on her hopes and dreams. At some point, she’d resent me, hate me for doing that to her. My head pounds while my heart continues to shatter. Part of me wants to hold onto her—to keep her here with me by any means necessary. While the other part knows I have to let her go.