“There’s something wrong with me,” I said to my brother before glancing down at Beth, who was cradled in my arms. I still couldn’t get over how tiny my nieces were.

“I’ve been telling you that for years,” Hank said.

I looked up at him. He held Beth’s tiny twin sister, Emmy, her head resting on his massive shoulder.

I turned to Birdie, and my sister-in-law smirked.

“This is your fault,” I said to her. “The more time he spends with you, the more of a smartass he’s becoming.”

“Don’t worry,” she said, patting me on the shoulder as she headed back in the house. “No one is a bigger smartass than you.”

Hank chuckled and watched his wife disappear inside. He turned back to me. “See, nothing to worry about.”

I frowned at the big bastard. “No, I’m serious. There’s something seriously wrong with me.”

The grin dropped off Hank’s face. “What’s going on?”

I sat down in one of the rocking chairs on Hank’s porch and rocked back and forth, since Beth had finally closed her eyes, and looked back up at my brother. “I’m not sleeping. I’ve got no appetite. I haven’t been fishing or hunting in weeks. My stomach feels weird, and there’s this”—I pressed my palm to the middle of my chest—“ache, right here.”

“So besides coming here for dinner, you haven’t left your house in three weeks.”

“Yeah,” I said. “Pretty much.”

“And the last time you went fishing was when Freya was here?” Hank said.

I sat straighter in my seat. I hadn’t said her name out loud since she left. I’d thought it a lot. I’d thought of her a lot. As a matter of fact, I hadn’t really stopped thinking about her.

I also hadn’t heard from her, and I understood why, but I…shit, I missed her. I missed talking to her. “Yeah, so?” I said to Hank.

“And you started getting these symptoms, what? Just after she left?” he asked.

I frowned. “I suppose so.”

Hank shook his head, a look of disgust on his face.

I frowned harder. “What the hell’s that look for?”

“You’re an idiot,” Hank said.

I scowled at him. “Well, thanks so much for your professional diagnosis.”

He stared at me in disbelief. “You really can’t figure it out?”

“Figure what out?” I barked at him. Beth stirred so I rocked faster.

“You’re either about to have a massive heart attack,” he said. “Or…”

“Or what?”

“You’re in love.”

I shot out of the chair. “No.” I shook my head. “Don’t be ridiculous.” Beth screwed up her face, letting out a tiny cry.

Hank scowled at me and I started rocking her again.

“Okay fine,” he said. “You’re not, but can I ask you this? When you’re sitting around your house or lying awake in bed, doing all this nothing, what are you thinking about…or should I say who?”

I froze like a startled rabbit looking down the barrel of a gun. “No,” I said again, but with a hell of a lot less conviction this time. I looked at my brother. “She can’t hunt or fish.”

“So?” Hank said. “Neither could Birdie when we first met.”

“She can’t cook,” I said dumbly.

“You can.”

“Well, yeah.”

Hank shrugged. “So, what’s your point?”

I couldn’t think of one.

“You once told me not to let Mom keep on hurting me, but Beau, you’re doing the same thing. We lost people we loved, and it hurt a fuck of a lot, but don’t let what happened in your past stop you from being with the woman you love.” Hank glanced through the window at Birdie who was quilting at the kitchen table. “I almost did what you are now because of that shit in my head. Don’t do the same thing. You need to talk to her, Beau. Tell her how you feel.”

* * *

I woke with a jolt, Freya’s name exploding past my lips and my hand flying to the other side of the bed. Empty. I shot up to a sitting position, looking around the room, mind fuzzy, still half in the dream I’d just had, half in my shadowed room.

My mouth opened again, her name forming on my tongue, about to call out for her again when I remembered. She wasn’t there.

She was gone.

The soul-deep ache that realization caused could have knocked me on my ass if I’d been standing.

It was only a dream. But it seemed so real. We’d been on the couch downstairs together, kissing, laughing, happy…Christ, we’d been in love. And for the first time in a long time, the thought of that, the feel of it, didn’t send me into a panic.

And not just in the dream.

I shoved the covers aside.

Hank was right. I was in love with Freya.

It didn’t terrify me. In fact, it felt right, so damn right.

And I’d let her go. I’d let her walk out of there, out of my life, like a dumb fuck.

I flew out of bed and jogged down the stairs, the sense of urgency in my gut gnawing at me. I had to tell her, this second. My phone was in the kitchen, and I snatched it up, shoved the door open, strode out onto the deck, and punched in her phone number.

The phone rang and rang until I was asked to leave a message.

I didn’t want to leave a damn message. I needed to talk to her. I hung up and tried again.

She had to be there. I had to tell her how I felt.

“Hello,” Freya’s sleepy, soft voice hit my ear, and I had to grab for the porch railing.

I’d missed the sound of her voice so much. I hadn’t realized how much until I heard that sweet, husky tone. I mean, I heard her in my head all damn day, but finally hearing it for real, Jesus, it hit me with force.

“Is anyone there?” she said.

I snapped out of it and forced my mouth to move. “Freya?” I croaked.

Silence.

I waited, my breath choppy, my heart pounding. Please don’t hang up.

“Beau?” she finally whispered.

I gripped the phone tighter. “Yeah, it’s me.”

More silence, then she said, “It’s four in the morning.”

Shit. Was it? “Sorry, I…” I gripped the railing tighter. “I just, I needed to talk to you.”

Her sigh came at me before she said, “I don’t think…Beau, there’s nothing left to talk about.”

I shoved my fingers through my hair. “There is. There’s a lot to talk about, starting with the fact that I was wrong, that I shouldn’t have let you go.”

I heard her suck in a breath. “What?”

“I made a mistake, honey. I messed up. I—”

“No,” she said. “You didn’t. You were right. I wanted something from you that you can’t give me. And we both know there are things I can’t give you.”

“You’re wrong,” I said.

“I’m not.” Her rough exhale echoed down the line. “You saw me out there. I can’t do any of the things you wanted from a partner. God, I can’t even cook.”

“None of that matters,” I said. “None of it, Freya. Please, listen to me—”

“I can’t,” she said. “Beau, I came from a family that had a warped idea of love. Their love came with conditions, was withheld. Starting this thing with you, I was repeating history. I didn’t believe I was worthy of love. So, I fell for a man who couldn’t give it to me, whose affection came with conditions. That’s not your fault, Beau. You want what you want. But I need more than that. I deserve it.”

“No, Freya, please—”

“I need to get over you, Beau. I’m trying really hard to get over you, and that’s going to be so much harder if you start calling me. Please…please don’t call again.”

“Freya, don’t hang up—”

“Goodbye, Beau.”

“Christ…I love you. I fucking love you.”

But it was too late. The line was already dead.

I tried to call back, but it went straight to voice mail.

What the hell was I going to do now?