Murderous rage hits me like a blast wave from a C-4. I rein it in, surprised. Stomped-on pride, disbelief, hurt—those were the emotions that took over my life when I found out from Dom about Jules cheating. But this rage from left field to demolish a guy’s body with my fists before I point-blank shoot him between the eyes for touching my woman? I’ve never felt anything like it.
Fuck.
Ever shakes her head.
“Why’s that?” I should drop this line of questioning. My anger rises again at having to hear her talk about the guys before me.
“Talking about them would be disrespectful.”
Her ability to defuse my anger with words fucks with my mind more than the jealousy from out of nowhere. In the past, I struggled to control my anger. I punched walls until my knuckles cracked open and my hands swelled. Drove my damn Ducati too fast. Drank my rage into oblivion.
To hear words that bring me down from my rage in seconds to this eerie calm . . . I let go of the helmet’s lip and palm the sides. “Thank you, sweetness.”
“For what?”
“For considering my feelings and respecting what we have. It means a lot to me.” Respect and consideration were what I lacked from Jules.
Ever glances up at me. I stare back. It’s after four. The parking lot isn’t busy. Foot traffic in the strip mall containing the bakery is light. The noise from the traffic behind us is the only thing that cuts through the silence, except for our breathing and the steady thump, thump, thump of my heartbeats in my ears.
“Ask your question, Ever.” I see it on her face.
She blows out a breath. “Would you change your flight to Monday and spend tomorrow with me? I don’t work, and my unofficial bodyguard is helping his grandmother in Montgomery.”
“What would you give up?” I drop a kiss on the bridge of her nose.
She scrunches her face, looking adorable as fuck. “Like something I own?”
“I’m after possession and not possessions. Are we clear?”
She nods.
“What are you willing to give up that you’ve never given to anyone else?”
Seconds go by before she answers. When she does, she surprises me again.
“I’ll give up my happiness if you delay your flight until Monday.”
No one has ever given up their happiness for me. Not my mother or my father, and definitely not my half-brothers. They’re happy I’m not welcomed by their mother and wouldn’t give up an ounce of the emotion to help me understand what kind of woman stays with a cheater.
I wasn’t surprised when I was put through the same predicament. Stay with a cheater or leave and cut all ties. Leaving wasn’t as easy as I thought it’d be. I hung on and rationalized to myself that Jules’s cheating was a one-time thing. She’d hurt me and destroyed my trust in her.
Jules begged me to take her back, and I did, believing her guilt would stop her from making the same mistake. It didn’t. When I stopped hurting and felt nothing was the day I walked away and cut all ties.
But my father’s wife, Genevieve Bliss, hadn’t walked away. Was it because Branson learned from his mistake and regained her trust? Is that the reason she stayed with my father after she realized she and my mother were pregnant with Branson’s kids? Forgive and move on?
Except I can’t shake the feeling there’s another kid out there. I shelf the suspicion to consider later and return my attention to the beautiful woman in front of me. “You sure? Giving up your happiness for time with me doesn’t seem like an equal exchange.”
She doesn’t hesitate. “I’m sure.”
“Done, sweetness.” I kiss her between the eyes. “I’ll change my flight to Monday.” Her eyes cross and sparkle.
“Thank you.” A shy smile from her, and my heartbeat accelerates.
I want to cup her face, but I’d put the helmet on her. I make a mental note to do so only after I’m done touching and kissing her.
“Adjusting my flight isn’t earthshattering, beautiful.”
“It is to me.”
