Maybe a better man would’ve danced around it, softened the edges, pretended this is something it ain’t.
But I’ve never been that kind of man.
Kelly’s not some naïve little girl who needs to be handled with silk gloves.
She’s not fragile.
She’s not some prize buck I’m trying to bag and drag home.
She’s a grown woman who’s taken more hits than most people could stand and somehow kept her damn feet under her.
I’ve watched her.
Watched her walk into that mill every day with her chin up even when people were whispering behind her back.
Watched her hold it together for that boy of hers while the ground under her life cracked open.
Strong as hell.
Too strong sometimes.
Trying to carry everything alone.
That’s the part that gets under my skin.
Because she shouldn’t have to.
I rub a hand over my jaw and let out a slow breath.
She’ll make up her own mind.I know that much about her.
Kelly McCrae doesn’t get pushed into anything she doesn’t want.
Not by me.
Not by anyone.
But the day will come—I just know it will—when she finally gets tired of doing it by herself.When she looks up and realizes she doesn’t have to.
Not anymore.
And when she walks toward me?When she decides she’s done drowning alone?
I’ll be right here.
Right where I’ve been all along.
Ready.
Willing.
Able.
Chapter3
Kelly
“Come on, you sonofabitch, move!”I growl at the hand truck currently buried wheel-deep in mud outside the Lunchroom.
