After an epic night, we decided to take it easy the next morning. We both sat close together on the sofa, catching up on our phones.

Then I saw it.

A text from Beau containing a web link.

Beau: Bro, did u c this?

I clicked on the link which led to a gossip article.

“Bella Applebaum’s Deal with the Devil Dog: Why the desperate former reality star agreed to pretend to be the girlfriend of maimed Medal of Honor recipient Grady Williams.”

What the fuck?

Rage swept through me as I skimmed the article. “According to a source, Bella told her friend that she was repulsed by Grady but agreed to attend the Marine Corps Ball with him as long as her father could write Grady’s war memoir.”

I’d never been under any delusion that my face was anything but grotesque. But reading this article, knowing that she told her someone I disgusted her singed my already scorched skin with humiliation.

I could show her the article, listen to her false apologies, her protests that she never said it, but there was no point. Rejection stung my soul. I’d been wrong about her, wrong about sharing my feelings. I hated myself for being stupid enough to believe she could love me. I wanted her gone—out of my life.

Forever.

In all honesty, I should’ve never allowed myself to get close to her—from the second I’d first seen her, I’d known she was out of my league. She was too beautiful, too sexy. How could she ever love a beast?

I stood up from the sofa and looked toward the ground. I refused to give her the satisfaction of staring at me again.

“I’ve made a mistake. This, whatever this was, isn’t going to work out. I’ll pay for you to change your ticket so you can go home early.”

“What? Are you serious? After telling me last night that you love me you want me to go?”

“Yup,” I said flatly.

My back was turned to her, but I could hear her stand up. She placed her hand on my shoulder. I pushed it off.

“Don’t make this harder than it is. It would never work out between us. And I’ve decided that I don’t want to write a book. Meeting Pasha made me realize that once I start up with celebrity shit, I’ll become a fucking puppet.”

“No.” She wasn’t giving up. “I don’t care about the book, I’ll find another way to pay for my tuition, even if I have to take a year off. I can get a loan. I can get a few jobs. Don’t do this, Grady. I’m in love with you! Just because you’re scared—”

“Scared? Scared of what? You? Love? You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about. You don’t know the meaning of the word scared. Get the fuck out of my face. If you want to talk about our relationship, I’m sure your friend would love to hear more stories about how repulsive I am.”

Her mouth flew open. “What are you talking about? I never said that.”

“Whatever, Isa. Just get your shit and go.”

She stormed off to her room, cursing under her breath. I threw my cell phone at the wall, hoping it would shatter. That way, I’d be unreachable. Any minute now my phone would be blowing up with sympathetic texts about that article.

She emerged a few minutes later, clutching her suitcase. “Grady, I read the article. I didn’t say that I swear. I told Mirasol that—”

“Doesn’t matter. I don’t want to hear your excuses. Just stop.”

“No, you’re going to listen to me. I didn’t say that. I said your scars are horrific and clearly you’ve suffered so much, but you’re sexy anyway. Please believe me.” Her voice was choked with emotion.

“It’s more than that. This will never work. I just want to be alone.” And I meant that with every cell in my body. I didn’t need this internal anguish, this humiliation. I didn’t need her.

I grabbed her luggage. As we walked toward the door, I could sense her mood changing. A scowl graced her face.

But she wasn’t my problem.

We walked outside and I loaded her luggage in the car.

She clutched my arm. “Grady, I didn’t say that. If you aren’t aware already of how the media skews everything, you need a crash course ASAP. You’re in the public eye, whether you want to be or not.”

“That story is on national news. You still told someone about our agreement for the book deal, something you told me to keep quiet.”

“Yeah, I did. I told my best friend. That’s what friends do—they share. And I texted Marisol—she swore to me she didn’t say that to the press, and I believe her. I trust her. Someone overheard us and then sold a false story to the tabloids. This happens every day. I can give a statement and it will go away.”

I wanted to believe her. But it was too late now. The entire world now saw me as a joke.

She caressed my waist and I wanted to feel her hands on me this one last night.

“You’re an amazing guy. You’re heroic, strong, sexy, and surprisingly sweet. But you have PTSD. You need help. I can’t walk out of here today and regret not telling you how I feel. I think we could really have something beautiful here. We could even have an amazing life together. I love you, but I can’t be with you if you don’t love yourself. And you don’t even want to try. You risk your life to save your friends, but you won’t even attempt to save yourself. You’re worth it, I’m worth it. If you go get some help, I’ll be here when you’re finished. If not, I’m not going to the ball with you. Promise or no promise.”

I clenched my fist, using every bit of self-control I had to not plunge it into the car door.

“So it’s all my fault this won’t work? I’m not the only one fucked up here, Isa. You’re a mess too. Always trying to save everyone—me, your dad. What makes you happy? What are you running from? Your mom killed herself and you found her—well, that’s pretty fucked up. Have you dealt with that? What are you doing to take care of yourself? At least I admit freely that I’m a wreck. That I’ll never be able to do the one thing I’ve wanted to do my entire life—be a sniper. You want to be a clinical psychologist to help people, I get that. But I’ve seen you dance. Not just here with me, but I used to watch you every week on television with my grandma. And once I discovered who you are, I watched old clips. You loved dancing, you glowed. I’ve never seen that glow on your face, that light in your life. You claim you want to live your life free and not hide from anyone, but you are hiding from yourself.”

Her face reddened and her nostrils flared. I expected a smartass retort, but her silence infuriated me more. She had to know I was right. Instead of trying to help everyone around her, Isa needed to help herself.

Her face softened. “You’re right. I’m damaged too, and I miss dancing. But I’m going to do something about it. I hope you will too. And no matter what happens with our relationship, I hope we can remain friends.”

Friends? Fuck that, I could never be a friend to a woman I’d fucked. The thought of another man touching Isa, fucking her, killed me.

I gritted my teeth. “Not going to happen. I never want to see you again.”

A grimace lingered on her face and her chin trembled. “You don’t mean that.”

She kissed my scarred cheek, and I resisted the urge to grab her, kidnap her, throw her over my back like a caveman staking his property. Before I knew what had happened, her car disappeared behind the pines.