Page 79 of War

“We could sneak away,” I suggest, grinning. “After your sister leaves.”

He groans and kisses my lips. I’m so surprised he waited until he was divorced and made me his old lady before fucking me again.

I know this man will love me forever.

Look after me.

Be an incredible father.

And he will fight for me.

After all…All’s fair in love and War.

EPILOGUE

LU

Seeing how loved Ora is makes my soul happy. Smirking when she drags War up to their bedroom to have their own celebration, I get lost in my thoughts.

I know how the world sees me. I’m the fun girl, the relaxed one who doesn’t let anything faze her, especially not men.

I’m the casual dater.

The one who runs before things can get complicated. I wasneverlooking for commitment. In fact, I’ve spent most of my twenties so far avoiding it, and the reason why is standing on the stage, strumming his guitar, and singing a song he wrote himself.

A love song.

Haze broke my heart when I was still a girl, and now, as a woman, it still hasn’t healed itself.

He was the boy I loved before I even knew what love was, the one who would play his guitar at night because he knew it always helped me fall asleep and block out the sounds of my parents screaming at each other.

There’s not a woman in the room without their gazes locked onto him. From his short brown hair, his leather cut with a tightwhite T-shirt under it, and his muscles straining against the fabric, I can’t really blame them.

His talented fingers strum the cords expertly and confidently, and you can just imagine how he’d use those same hands to play your body. He’s magnetic. Sexy. And when he’s singing like this, his deep, soothing voice almost puts me in a trance, just like it always did.

He’s in his element.

And no matter how much I want to look away, I can’t make myself.

It’s pleasure and torture at the same time.

Amber eyes find mine, and I can almost pretend that he’s singing those beautiful words to me.

But I know better.

Hayden Miller turned his back on me long before he rejected me.

I don’t know why he suddenly decided to try and speak to me, but it’s much too late.

When he finishes his set, he comes and sits next to me at the bar. I’m sipping on a jalapeno margarita—the taste has long since lost its appeal, but the alcohol in it is keeping me going.

“You can’t ignore me forever,” he rumbles, lifting my chin to look at him.

It’s the first time I’ve really looked at him up close.

The first time our eyes have properly held and connected.

The first time we’ve had a conversation, even if it’s without words.

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