“Tell me everything,” she whispered. “From the beginning. Tell me what happened.”
So I did.
I told her about Angel kissing me behind the garage. About the flash of movement I’d seen from the corner of my eye. About him appearing like something out of a dream, his face twisted with rage and confusion as he ripped Angel away from me. I told her about the way he looked at me, really looked at me, and how I watched the realization dawn in his eyes. The horror. The devastation. The understanding that the woman he made love to under the stars wasn’t his Julie, but me. Just me. Hope Owens.
Nobody special. Nobody worth remembering.
“And then he left,” I whispered, my voice hoarse from crying. “He just turned around and walked away like I was nothing. Like what happened between us meant nothing.”
Faith was quiet for a long moment, her hand stroking my hair in slow, soothing motions.
“You’re not nothing,” she said finally, her voice fierce and certain. “Do you hear me, Hope? You are not nothing. You are kind and generous and so full of love that it spills out of you like sunlight. And if he can’t see that, if he’s so lost that he can’t recognize what’s right in front of him, then that’s his loss. Not yours.”
“But I let him,” I sobbed, the shame burning hot in my chest. “I let him touch me and kiss me, and make love to me. What does that make me, Faith? What kind of person does that?”
“A person who loves with her whole heart,” Faith said simply. “A person who saw someone in pain and wanted to help, even if it meant breaking your own heart in the process.”
I shook my head as fresh tears spilled down my cheeks. “It wasn’t enough.”
“Oh, sweetheart.” Faith pulled back just enough to cup my face in her hands, forcing me to meet her eyes. “You are more than enough. You always have been. And someday, maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but someday, he’s going to realize what he lost when he walked away from you. And when that day comes, you will get to decide if he deserves a second chance.”
I wanted to believe her. God, I wanted to believe her so badly it hurt. But all I could see was his face. The shock, the horror, the devastation, and the way he turned his back on me without a single word. Like I was a mistake he needed to forget. Like I was nothing more than a painful reminder of his own grief.
Faith held me as I cried, her presence steady and unwavering, and I let myself fall apart in the safety of her arms. Let myself grieve for the man who had touched me like I was something sacred, then left me like I was disposable. I let myself mourn the love I had given so freely to someone who couldn’t, wouldn’t love me back.
Outside, the sun began to set, painting the greenhouse in shades of gold and amber, and I sat there on the floor, surrounded by growing things and the scent of earth, and wondered if I would ever feel whole again.
Chapter Twelve
Slaughter
I didn’t remember getting on my bike.
Didn’t remember starting the engine or pulling out of the Diamondback clubhouse lot. One moment I was standing behind that garage, staring at Hope’s face. Her wide, devastated eyes, the way her lips were still swollen from another man’s kiss, and the next I was on the highway, the speedometer climbing past ninety as I tore through the Oklahoma darkness like the Devil himself was on my heels.
Maybe he was. Maybe I was running from myself.
The road stretched out before me, endless and black, the white lines blurring into a single ribbon of light as I pushed my bike harder. Faster. The engine roared beneath me, vibrating through my bones, but it wasn’t loud enough to drown out the truth that kept hammering against my skull with every mile I put between myself and that clubhouse.
Hope.
Not Julie.
Hope.
The woman I made love to under the stars, the woman I whispered promises to, the woman I called by my dead wife’s name while I moved inside her—Jesus Christ.My stomach lurched, and I had to swallow hard against the bile rising in my throat.
What the fuck had I done?
The wind tore at my hair, my clothes, my skin, but I couldn’t feel it. Couldn’t feel anything except the crushing weight ofrealization pressing down on my chest until I thought my ribs might crack from the pressure.
Shadow’s sister.
I slept with Shadow’s sister.The thought hit me like a freight train, and I nearly lost control of my bike. My hands tightened on the handlebars, knuckles white, as the full scope of my fuckup crashed over me in waves.No condom. No protection. No fucking thought beyond the desperate, grief-stricken belief that Julie had come back to me.
What if she were pregnant? What if I had gotten Shadow’s baby sister pregnant while calling her by another woman’s name?
My panic was a living thing now, as it clawed its way up my throat, making it hard to breathe. I sucked in air through my teeth, but it wasn’t enough. Nothing was enough. The Oklahoma landscape blurred past me. Flat fields, scattered trees, the occasional farmhouse with its porch light glowing like a beacon in the darkness, but I didn’t see any of it.