Page 36 of Tactical Lies

It could never be her reality.

Could it?

Chapter

Nine

August 19th

3:01 P.M.

Bringing Becca here felt both weird and right.

The kind of right you felt down to your bones, that settling feeling inside you that said everything would be okay.

And for the first time in twelve years, Connor actually thought it was.

So far, Becca hadn't committed to any sort of future with him, not even as friends. Neither of them had raised his earlier question of whether she could give him a second chance. For her, he was sure it was because she was feeling conflicted, for him, it was because he didn't want to push too hard too soon.

The question was still out there, and she could give him an answer when she was ready.

Whether she realized it or not, she’d already taken a step toward giving him the chance he wanted when she allowed him to comfort her the way he used to.

Connor completely got that it was probably odd to most people, but after her assault, Becca had felt powerless, and she’d been so afraid. One day when she’d been crying and shaking, begging him to dump her because she might never be able to have sex again, he’d just whipped out his length and told her that it belonged to her. Never to another woman, and if she didn't want it then no one else would touch it.

He'd meant every word.

Becca had doubted him, but he’d told her she was in control of it, it was hers to do with what she wanted. If that was sex when she was ready then so be it, and if not, he was okay with that because he loved her way more than any cheap orgasm.

Determined to prove him wrong, she’d grabbed it, ran her hands over it, and told him he was lying, he could never give up sex indefinitely. He’d insisted that he could. So, she’d dragged him over to stand before her and taken him in her mouth. Almost immediately she’d calmed, and they’d both realized that using his penis like a pacifier was helpful to her, soothed her, and it had become their thing.

One she’d accepted on the plane, allowing him to comfort her.

“This house … it reminds me …” Becca cast him a confused look as she hobbled on her crutches down the front path toward the porch.

“Reminds you of what?” he asked, hoping she knew exactly what the old farmhouse reminded her of and was just uneasy about saying it out loud.

“Did you pick this house because of me?” she asked. “Because it looks exactly like the kind of place we talked about buying when we mapped out our future.”

“Yep. I absolutely did.”

“Why?” she whispered.

“Because there hasn’t been a day that went past in the last twelve years that I haven’t thought of you. Ached for you. Regretted what I did and wished I could make it up to you somehow,” he answered honestly. This was no time for stubborn pride or a macho need to hide his emotions. Connor knew he was fighting for his future and that required honesty and vulnerability. Both of which Becca deserved from him.

For a moment she was silent, something flitted through her eyes, and then she blurted out words that stopped his heart. “Connor, I was engaged.”

She was engaged?

Was, as in not anymore?

Did it matter?

She’d fallen in love with another man.

Moved on.

Before he could say anything, the door to his house was thrown open and his brothers spilled out.

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