But he’d hurt her. When he’d sent her away. What a dick he’d been. She was so afraid of being rejected, and then he had gone and done exactly that.
He hated himself for it.
He loved her. Like breathing. It was second nature to him. Something he didn’t have to try to do, something he couldn’t help but do.
All he had to do was grab on.
All he had to do was take the step.
And he damn well would.
Chapter 18
There were so many things I didn’t understand until Benjamin. That love can be stronger than fear, that forgiveness is better than anger. That hope is not foolish at all, not even in the slightest. At our wedding, I thought of my mother, and how she always dreamed of a better life, but her hope only brought her agony. But it helped me live. It helped me find my way here. It helped me find my way to him. I didn’t believe in happiness, much less happily ever after. But now I know how to hold on to what matters. I’m never letting go.
—Belle Hancock’s Diary, October 1870
The crowd assembled at the bar for the election results was spirited indeed. Jessie Jane had never felt so supported. So accepted. Whatever the result tonight, everything was going to be okay. It was.
She tried not to think about Flynn, because that just hurt, and he wasn’t here.
His family was, though. Even without him.
She knew they were holding back questions, but they didn’t ask them. In fact, no one did, which made her feel alternately irritated and relieved. There were little graphs on the screen, showing the votes being tabulated, and the very niche local elections were coming in more slowly, with the results being shown less frequently, because the state elections were the main thing being covered.
Her brother walked up behind her and squeezed her shoulders. “It’s going to be good,” he said.
“I hope so.”
And she meant that. But she meant more than just the election. Then the door to the bar opened, and in he walked. Flynn Wilder. All six-foot-plus of gorgeous cowboy, a sight that had affected her ever since she was in high school. Chiseled jaw, brilliant green eyes,broad shoulders, and a muscular chest. Washboard abs. Muscular thighs that she wanted to lick. That she had licked. In that blinding moment when he had walked in, it was like the first time she’d seen him. Like all the years combined. Would he always affect her like this?
His eyes locked with hers, and her knees went wobbly. “Flynn Wilder,” she said. “Howdy.”
“Jessie Jane Hancock. I’d like to speak to you outside.”
“Sure,” she said.
She cleared her throat and looked at everyone. The room had gone stone-cold silent. “Excuse me.”
He put his hand on her lower back and ushered her through the door. She found herself out on the street, staring at the neon sign above The Watering Hole with its curvy cowgirl, just like that night she had first asked him to engage in their charade.
Maybe he was about to shake her hand and tell her it was a job well done. Though it seemed a little weird not to wait until after the election results were announced.
“Well?”
“I just wanted to talk,” he said.
And suddenly, with burning conviction, she knew she needed to tell him. She had to put herself out there. She had to open herself up. She couldn’t be safe. She couldn’t let him walk away. Maybe she would open herself up to rejection. On the same night she might lose an election. She didn’t care. Because she loved him. And she needed to know if he loved her too.
“I love you.”
It came out at exactly the same time he said it.
His mouth opened just slightly, and he looked dumbfounded. “I love you,” he said.
“No,” she said. “I love you.”
He laughed. That bastard laughed. Like it was hilarious, when she had been marinating in pain for days.
