“I would feel nothing but honor and pride to be able to show the entire world just how much.”
I hold her gaze for one more second, then release her. I stand and head toward the door, giving her the space I know she needs.
I tug it open, but turn to face her again. “Push as hard as you want to get me to stop. I’ve spent my life learning how to keep climbing back to my feet, no matter how much it hurts. It’ll be a hell of a lot easier climbing together.”
She closes her eyes, and I stare at her one second longer. The bravest woman I will ever know.
I slip out the door, leaving her. . .for now.
Tracker is right. Not many people could handle loving her, but I can. Maybe that’s why it’s taken so long for me to want to love someone. Maybe I was saving it all up for her.
Chapter 45
RYDER
My phone buzzes, and I ignore it. It buzzes again.
Tracker’s gaze drifts to me and then back to the road. His truck hits a bump. I curse, and he chuckles.
“Laugh it up, old man. Next time you find yourself with a bullet hole, I’m renting a dune buggy to escort you home.”
He smiles. “Hey, be careful. You can always walk. Besides, Hope says no more gunfights.”
“Do you always do what she says?” I’m curious, knowing he bends the rules when necessary.
“If I don’t, there’d better be a damn good reason.” He grins.
My phone buzzes again.
“Are you going to eventually put him out of his misery?”
I stare out the window, wondering how he knows it’s Cole. It could be one of the girls, but it’s most likely Cole. The man just won’t get a clue.
It’s been three days since he told me he loved me, and if I said I hadn’t thought about those words and every single other thing he said, I’d be a big, fat liar. It’s all I can think about, so much so that it’s about to drive me insane.
I lay in that horrible hospital bed, where the only comfort to be found was in the memory of those blue-purple eyes staring back at me and promising he wasn’t going anywhere. The only eyes I want to replace all the others that haunt me.
But everything he said doesn’t change the simple truth of who I am and what I can’t offer him.
Do I still want to read his messages? Yep. Will I torture myself and not look? Also, yes. At least for the time being.
He sends me messages every day about random stuff, but so far, I’ve held strong. I might’ve peeked. . .a little.
Tracker pulls into the driveway, and I’m so happy to be home where I can heal in peace and quiet and not talk to anyone if I don’t want to.
I carefully climb out of the truck and head inside. Tracker follows with the bag Jos packed for me.
We step into the comforting space, and I toss my phone on the table, heading to the fridge to see what I can drown my shitty emotions in. The cardboard box of Cole’s winning cookies sits inside, calling to me.
Tracker pulls out a chair. I need him to leave so I can eat the whole damn box and then not have to think about Cole every time I want a snack.
“That young man loves you, Ryder.” Tracker’s soft words hit my wound, and I straighten. “Stop pushing him away.”
That sounded a little bossy.
I turn, attempting to cross my arms, but that doesn’t quite work when one is tied up in a sling. “I’m on disability and not taking orders from you right now.”
One graying eyebrow raises. “It’s a sound suggestion. Something to ponder while sulking in your sour-ass mood.”
