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But instead, she turns.

She folds into me like she’s finally too tired to hold herself up, arms wrapping around me like she’s drowning and I’m the only thing keeping her afloat.

The sound that leaves her throat—it's not a sob. It’s a fucking wound.

“Henny…” she chokes, voice shattered. “I’m so sorry.”

I hold her tighter, one hand sliding up her back, the other curling around her waist. She hasn’t done a damn thing wrong, and I don’t know what she’s apologizing for—but I feel the weight of it all the same.

And I’d carry every ounce of it if she’d let me.

“Baby, you don’t have anything to be sorry for,” I tell her, rough and sure. “Dallas is fine.”

But the second his name leaves my mouth, I feel her fall apart for real. Her whole body goes limp against mine, and the tears come fast—hot and soaking through my shirt. No holding back now. No walls. Just her and all that fucking grief she’s been swallowing down.

I’ve waited years to hold her like this again—to feel her in my arms, not just near me but with me. Still…she feels a million miles away.

My throat closes up, thick with everything I can’t fix. I drop my chin to the top of her head, breathing her in like it’ll steady me. That fresh Magnolia scent, soft and wrong and so her, clings to my lungs.

“Wildflower…” I whisper. The word catches like glass in my throat. A prayer. A plea. A God damn lifeline thrown into the dark.

Because I don’t want her to come back to me.

I want her to know she never had to leave.

She pulls back, hands rising to cradle my face like I’m something fragile—something sacred—like if she lets go for even a second, I’ll disappear.

I freeze under the weight of it. Her palms are trembling, but her eyes? Jesus. Her eyes are wildfire and wreckage. Cheeks streaked with tears, lips parted like she’s about to give me the truth I’ve been bleeding for.

And in that look—God, in that look—I know.

This is it. This is the weight she’s been carrying.

The thing that’s kept her from me all these years.

I hold my breath waiting for her to finally open up to me, but in true Louisiana fashion she doesn’t. I see the second she decides to lock it back up, making me deflate. “When this is all over, you’ve got to let me go. You deserve so much more than anything I could ever give you.”

Then she gives me this soft, broken smile like it’s some kind of mercy—and turns, walking away.

Leaves me standing there. Hollowed out. Fuming.

Let her go?

I deserve more?

She has no God damn clue what I deserve. I sure as hell don’t want more. I want her. Bruised, stubborn, impossible her. The woman who’s spent her whole life building walls no one was ever supposed to climb.

But I’m not asking anymore.

She wants to run? Fine.

The first chance I get, I’m going to tear those walls down brick by fucking brick.

Ready or not, Louisiana Wright is about to find out exactly what she deserves.

And it’s me. All of me. Every raw, ruthless inch.

The drive to my brother’s, I keep one eye on Dallas in the backseat, all tangled up in nerves. He fidgets like he’s trying to escape his own skin, and honestly, I don’t blame him. I’m grateful for the distraction—anything to stop twisting the pain in my chest that Lou’s words whipped up earlier.