Page 104 of Hard to Lose

I’m about to tell him that there’s not a chance in hell when something else strikes me. “You know what?”

“What?”

“Thank you.”

“For what?” His expression reads confused, as it should from my one-eighty turnaround.

But Brexton’s words run through my mind, and for the first time, I realize she’s right.

“I always thought I wanted a guy like you. Driven. Professional. Structured in business and in your personal life. I was wrong. Thank you for breaking my heart. Thank you for hardening it so that it took the right one to break down the walls that needed to be broken down again.”

Finn nods but his eyes narrow as he studies me. “You okay?” The concern in his voice is unexpected and hits me harder than it should.

I bite my bottom lip and nod. “I will be.”

I turn to walk away when he calls my name. “Chase?”

“Hmm?” I look over my shoulder at him.

“Whoever he is, I hope he treats you well. You deserve that and so much more.”

Our eyes hold for a beat, before Finn gives a brief nod and then walks toward the office door.

I stare after him for a moment, curious over his about-face. His words shouldn’t faze me. I shouldn’t even think twice about them after everything we’ve been through and yet, I stand in the sunshine staring after him.

Was that regret in his voice? Apology?

And why do I suddenly care if it was?

Because we all make mistakes. Isn’t that the one thing I’ve learned over the past few months? That sometimes what starts out with the best intentions can turn into a disaster of epic proportions? That what you thought was going to happen morphs into something completely different?

I’m not justifying that as an excuse for what Finn did to me, but at the same time . . . didn’t I just screw someone over just as badly? Didn’t I hurt Gunner like Finn hurt me? It’s not like you can rank lies and deceit on a scale, but didn’t that happen in both instances?

Who am I to ask Gunner for forgiveness if I can’t look at Finn and give a little as well?

My sigh is loud.

Christ. Maybe Gunner has changed me. Made me into a better human.

I take my first step toward my car when my cell phone ringing startles me out of my thoughts.

But when I look at the screen, I can’t move fast enough to answer it.

“Gunner.” My heart leaps into my throat, and I don’t give a shit that I sound desperate and breathless when I say his name—because I’m both. “Hi.”

There’s silence, and I’m almost afraid to breathe for fear of ruining it.

“I wanted to call to say thank you,” he finally says, his voice raspy, timid, but freaking music to my ears. I blink back the tears and, before I can find my voice to speak, he continues. “A huge shipment of donations arrived at The Center today. It was unexpected and incredibly generous, so yeah, I wanted to thank you for arranging that.”

“The kids deserve it. It’s an incredible program you’ve created and run.” I take in a fortifying breath. “How are you?”

“They’ll be excited when they see it later.”

His voice is stoic. No emotion. And not even when I first met Gunner did he sound so . . . empty. Passionless.

I did that to him.

My hope crashes.