“Hattie—”
“Please,” she repeated, and the pleading note in her voice undid me completely.
I’d always been two steps behind this girl, willing to follow her wherever she went. And after all our years apart, that clearly hadn’t changed.
“Yeah, baby.” I nodded. “Lead the way.”
She tugged me toward the back door, through the mudroom and out into the humid Florida night. The air was thick with the scent of jasmine and Spanish moss, and somewhere in the distance, I could hear the lowing of cattle settling in for the night.
I felt like I was sixteen years old again.
“Come on,” she whispered, leading me across the yard to the old barn. The door was already cracked open, and she pushed it wider, pulling me inside.
This was where I’d first kissed her when we were thirteen. Where I’d told her I loved her for the first time. Where we’d made love on a blanket spread over fresh hay the night of our junior prom.
This place was us.
She let go of my hand and immediately started pacing, her movements agitated and restless. Back and forth across the dirt floor, her hands clenched into fists at her sides.
I leaned against a wooden post and watched her, my heart hammering against my ribs. I had a feeling I knew what this conversation was going to be about, and I wasn’t sure I was ready for it.
Finally, she stopped pacing and turned to face me. Even in the low light, I could see the tears gathering in her eyes, and itfelt like someone had reached into my chest and squeezed my heart with a fist.
“Why did you break up with me?” she blurted. “You said you loved me. You said you’d never leave me. Then you just... threw me away.”
The hurt in her voice pierced right through my heart.
Fuck. I didn’t know what to say.
Blowing out a breath, I decided on the truth. “I’m sorry.” I said, the words feeling completely inadequate. “I’m so fucking sorry.”
“That’s not an answer,” she said, her voice rising. “I deserve to know why. After everything we were to each other, I deserve the truth.”
She was right. She deserved the truth, even if it destroyed me to give it to her.
I took a deep breath, trying to find the words to explain the choice that had haunted me every single day for the past eight years.
“After you won that competition at the fair,” I began, my voice rough. “When that record executive made you that offer–”
She nodded. “Yeah. What about it?”
“You hesitated. That man was handing you your dreams on a silver platter, and you hesitated.”
She scrunched her brows. “What?”
“I knew you were going to shut him down. That’s why I asked him to give you the night to think about it.” I ran my good hand through my hair, frustrated by how impossible this was to explain.
“You would have chosen me over your dreams, and I couldn’t live with that.”
“So, you made the choice for me,” she said flatly.
Didn’t she get it? “I did what was best for you,” I growled. “I tore my heart out so that you would be happy. Because I loved you too much to hold you back.”
Tears streamed down her cheeks. Seeing her cry had always been my kryptonite, the one thing that could bring me to my knees faster than anything else in the world.
“Please, baby,” I begged, taking a step toward her. “Don’t cry.”
But my words seemed to have the opposite effect. She sobbed harder, her whole body shaking with the force of her grief.
