I gave a tiny nod.
“They were talking aboutyou. Everyone else on this ranch can’t connect with Cooper, but you did. That says a lot about who you are—you give your time and love even to difficult people and Garrett squandered that gift.” He smiled down at me. “On top of all that, you’re an incredible mother. You areconstantlythinking about Izzy and Nora and putting their needs before your own. You’re present for them emotionally even when you’re struggling. And in the past four weeks, you’ve been honest and brave about your fears and what’s holding you back. If you feel confused about your future, that doesn’t reflect on you or your decision-making capability. It’s on him, Hollie, one-hundred percent.”
I nodded, tears flicking down my cheeks. These words were a balm to my soul.
“And, let me tell you something, there are a million good men in the world who would recognize the treasure you are. The idea that no one would want you is a lie, Hollie. Straight from the pit of hell.”
I laid a hand over my lips. “He always said…” The words muffled into my palm, choked off by my broken heart.
“Take your time.”
I took a few breaths, trying to calm the flood before it began. “He said it would take a saint to love me, and that no man would want someone like me because I…” I faltered, covering my face with my hands. “I let myself go and I’m no fun and I’m simple and childish.” Tears wet my palms. “He said he was gracious to tolerate me for as long as he did, and if I was honest with myself about…who I truly am…then I…I would understand why…he wasn’t faithful to me.”
Jesse’s exhale shuddered, his voice a rasp. “Look at me, Hollie.”
I shook my head.
He pulled my hands from my face, his fingers loose. Cupping my chin, he directed it toward his face. “Look at me. Just because he didn’t give you his love doesn’t mean you didn’t deserve it. Love that can be earned isn’t real love. He’s talking about something he doesn’t even understand.”
Love that can be earned isn’t real love.
Instantly, those words changed my molecular structure, becoming one with my DNA. That was all I wanted—love I didn’t have to tiptoe around or constantly try to impress.
He took a heavy breath, the sound laced with threads of emotion. “From here on out, if anyone tries to make you feel like a burden or acts like they’re doing you a favor by putting up with you, I want you to run. Run away from them as fast as you possibly can, alright?”
I nodded. “Alright.”
“I would take all three of you.” His voice, soft and tender, scraped over my ear. “In a heartbeat. I wouldn’t even have to think about it.”
I squeezed my eyes closed at his words, completely overcome with feelings flying through my chest faster than I could name them. Within one hour my heart had been devastated then mended. I snuggled into his neck, whispering, “How do you always know the right things to say?”
He gave a soft chuckle. “Therapy goes a long way.”
“You go to therapy?”
“Not as often nowadays. I went every other week for years, now I check in every few months.”
“That’s amazing.” I swallowed against my dry throat. “I probably need therapy.”
He nodded, his eyes roaming every part of my face. “It could help you sort through stuff.”
“Or I can just keep talking to you.”
He chuckled again. “I’ll tell my therapist you said that. He’ll be very proud of me.”
Finally, I could spare the mental energy to enjoy how close we were. His heartbeat thumped beneath my ear and his scent wrapped around me. One of his hands rested on my thigh while the other rubbed my back and toyed with my curls. Tension slowly drained from my chest, and each one of my muscles unraveled as his hand moved across the back of my head. I held up a hand, surveying the bruises and cuts I’d left there. “I was doing so well for over a week. Now look at them.”
He took my hand, holding it closer to his face. “Yeah, that looks bad.”
“It hurts.”
“You know, my sister makes beef tallow and I bet it would help heal them up faster. I should’ve thought of it before.” He gave my leg a soft pat. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”
I shimmied off his lap so he could stand and he grabbed my wrists, lifting me to my feet. Face to face, he smiled at me. “Feel wobbly or good?”
“Good.”
I washed my hands in his bathroom while he rummaged around every single cabinet and finally found a silver puck-shaped tin with a creamy white balm inside. Then he sat on the edge of his mattress, gently patting it. When I sat, he moved my hand to his lap, dragging one finger through the tallow.
