Linebacker’s Second Chance(100)
So different from any other rich man. So unconcerned with the thoughts of others, the designs they put on him.
And to me, that makes sense. He’s not like anyone else—he lives in the outer reaches of civilization, stowed away from life, because his heart belongs here. He’s never needed to prove himself beyond his interactions with Joanna because he’s happy as he is.
He looks at me for a moment like he’s reading my thoughts, trying to make sense of my tears and the feelings I keep hidden under layers that I hardly understand. “Happy or sad?” His voice is gruff when he speaks, and he kisses me again, the slight stubble scratching against my face and bringing me back to reality.
“Happy. Sad. Both, I think.” I wipe away the tears with the edge of my sleeve and look back at the fluffy tree that Rowan went out to cut before I was even awake.
“Those tears don’t need to be sad, Cadence.” He brushes a gloved thumb against my cheek, wiping the rest of the moisture away. I lean my head into his hand, grateful for the warmth and realness of Rowan, here beside me. “If I make you happy—and I hope to God that I do—I’ll bend over backwards to be with you. I’ve never been so sure about anything.” His dancing blue eyes meet mine, and he grips my waist hard, pulling me into him.
“You do make me happy. But we said we weren’t going to talk about this.” I pause for a moment and purse my lips. I think of that horrible day when the doctor glanced at the ultrasound and told me that—yet again—the pregnancy wasn’t viable. Six hours later, it had all started to end on its own, the pain and nausea cresting in waves as I watched Netflix alone in my apartment. “It’s a distracted happiness,” I continue. “There are things I need to work out on my own. I need to go back and see what kind of life I want to lead. I need time to—”
He nods, like he’s going along with what I’m saying, like he expected me to say it, even if he doesn’t like it. “Be sad? Get it all out?”
“Yes, to grieve. I haven’t before, and I’m not sure if I even know how. But it’s important for me to go so that I can move on.” The tears threaten to come again, but Rowan takes me by the hand and leads me over to the Gator.
“Well then, you go. When you need to. But Cadence—” I nod, right as he starts to help me up onto the passenger seat of his farm vehicle.
“Yeah?”
“I’m not giving up on you, on us. That’s not what I’m about. I care about everything you’ve been through—but the fact that you’ve been through it—that doesn’t change how I feel about you. That’s all I’ll say, and there’s no reason in the world for you to respond.” I nod again and look ahead as he goes around to the driver’s seat and starts up the Gator, guiding it over to the back doors of his estate. The tears are coming again, but the wind dries them as fast as they fall.
I’m not even sure why I’m crying this time. It feels impossible to pin down this emotion and understand it.
Joy, bursting with sadness, punctuated with soft tears. And more real than I’ve felt in ages.
When we get to the house, the air keeps whipping around us and Eliza barks cheerfully as we pull the tree inside. Somehow, the sun, the air, the quietness of the Christmas Eve day around us—it’s made my thoughts, my grief, die back down to a dull roar. Inside, we prop the tree up in a rusty tree stand that must be thirty years old. Rowan pulls through a dozen boxes in the attic and finally finds a pile of old lights that may or may not set the whole damn house on fire. Half of them end up working, and the other half don’t even give a flicker. We throw the working ones up on the tree without ornaments while we drink eggnog and Rowan runs back and forth from the kitchen, tending to a turkey breast that he took out of the freezer the day before.
The rich smell begins to fill the house, mixing with the scent of pine. For the first time in days, I don’t think about going home or leaving this place, leaving this man I’m falling in love with behind.
I know that will come in time, that it has to. But for now, it’s off my mind.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“This is pretty good, for a thrown together Christmas meal,” she says, sitting on the hearth by the fire. I lugged in fifty pounds of firewood so we could keep the fire going all of today and tomorrow, but hell, it was worth it to see the smile on her face after we decorated our very basic Christmas tree and started a fire.