I made her a promise, and walking this tightrope—constantly worrying they’ll see right through me—is exhausting.
The Army trained me for a lot of things: strategy, survival, maneuvers.
But they never trained me for this.
And they give us armor.
There’s no armor for loving her.
It’s fucking big, and I carry it on the outside. Exposed for anyone to see.
All it would take is one slip, one glimpse from the right angle, one second where I’m not guarded, and they’d know.
They’d all know.
I pushed too far. Gave too much away.
After finally tasting her for real, none of the mistletoe shit—it’s like I’m walking around with a self inflicted brand:her.
“Oh, it’sexactlywhat I think,” he snaps, crossing his arms. His glare is unrelenting. “This is about Everett, isn’t it?”
The accusation knocks me off balance. I whip my head around to face him. “What?”
“Don’t play dumb,” he says, his tone edging toward dangerous. “You’ve been on edge since last night. Since she was cozying up to him on the sleigh. And now this?” He gestures back toward the dining room, his mouth twisting into a grimace. “Jesus, Chance. Man on the ground or not this is extreme.”
I let out a harsh laugh, sharp and humorless. “It’s not that and you’re blowing it out of proportion.”
“Am I?” he snaps, stepping closer. “Because it sure as hell looks like you’re trying to warn him off, but humiliating her to do it? It doesn’t get lower than that, Chance.”
The knot in my stomach twists even tighter. I should correct him.
Tell him he’s wrong. You’d never intentionally humiliate her. You’re not that guy. You’ve never been that guy. If you just tell him how you feel…
But if her father finally chooses her, she wants—noneeds—for him to choose her on her own merit.
She’s stepping into her own… a version of herself who doesn’t measure her worth by anyone else’s yardstick. After a lifetime of being smacked down, she needs to prove to herself she has the control to determine her course.
She probably doesn’t even see it, but she’s infusing her own confidence, making up for where her parents failed her.
She’s doing something I wasn’t able to do.
I’m not jealous… I’m in complete awe of her recognizing the need to do it and despite any fears she has, any threat of rejection, she’s doing it anyway.
The badass in that room who turned on Blake is exactly who she’s supposed to be—transforming, becoming the strong, capable person she was always meant to be.
Because I want to see her fully realized too.
Nick stares at me, his frustration giving way to something colder. “You think I didn’t notice the way you were glaring at him last night? Or how you’ve been watching her like a hawk ever since?”
I shake my head, forcing my voice to stay steady. “Nick, you don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Thenmakeme understand,” he fires back, his voice rising. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you can’t handle the idea of her being interested in him. Question is… why? And instead of dealing with it, you’re taking it out on her.”
Part truth. I can’t handle her being interested in him, but we are so far past that.
My fists clench at my sides, and my pulse pounds through my skull with the effort to keep the truth buried.
I want to tell him—need to tell him. If it were anyone but her…
