Page 105 of Ridin' Free
He didn’t have a green thumb. He couldn’t say whether he had been doing it right—but the various flowers she’d planted were still alive.
Shewas still a part of this place. Still his.
He had to believe it.
The alternative was to go back to the way life was before.
Before her.
Before them.
No calls. No flowers. No expectations other than a fun time had by all. It used to be more than enough. Now, he wanted his woman’s name to light up the screen on his phone. He wanted to hold the woman whose skin smelled like wildflowers. And he wanted the kind of promises made with a needle and ink.
Fuck, he thought.
TEN DAYS LATER
It waslate Sundayafternoon when I pulled into town, but the address where I resided wasn’t where I was headed. In the weeks since I’d been away, I’d come to realize while home had a definite comfort to it, there was a loneliness that abided there—a loneliness I’d unwittingly stowed away and took with me as I traveled from one town to the next. A loneliness I didn’t want to carry anymore.
‘You can fly, baby—and the door is open. It’s always fuckin’ open.’
I slowed down as I pulled into his neighborhood. I had no way of knowing if he would be home. No assurance that what he said more than a month ago still held true. But whether he still wanted me or not, I owed him this much.
For seeing me.
For believing in me.
For setting me free.
I eased into his driveway, shifted into park, and killed the Bronco’s engine. I drew in a deep breath, my stomach in knots, then willed myself to make my way to his front porch. Only, once I was there, I couldn’t bring myself to ring the bell. I was too afraid. I thought I understood my feelings for him; but standing there, my longing was so immense, I felt like it might swallow me whole. The possibility of his rejection immobilized me.
‘… the door is open. It’s always fuckin’ open.’
Then, suddenly, it was—quite literally—open.
I couldn’t stop my bottom lip from quivering as my eyes welled with tears. My heart ached at the mere sight of him. He stood there, staring at me—his broad, tattoo-covered chest and arms bare and on full display. He was in a pair of jeans, and something told me that was all he’d bothered to put on for the day.
‘You’re a Phoenix. And the woman who has risen from the ashes iseverything.’
He thought I was everything. Or, at least, he did. But, in truth, it washimwho was everything. He wasmyeverything. Or, at least, I wanted him to be—which meant, there was one more truth he needed to know.
“When I was twenty-two, I got pregnant,” I confessed instead of hello. “Sean made me get an abortion. And, at the time, I convinced myself it was smart. I was young. He was…him. But…”I paused, swallowing the knot trying to lodge itself in my throat, then continued, “It wasn’t until after it was over, um…that I realized it wasn’t my choice. It hadn’t been my choice. I said yes, but—but only because I wanted him to love me.”
I couldn’t stop crying now, but I needed to finish. I needed him to know.
“Iwantto love you,” I hiccuped. “I want you to love me. I don’t want to be alone anymore. And I want—I want a family. I want one withyou—even—even if maybe I don’t deserve it.”
I barely got the words out before he stepped outside and pulled me into his arms. He held me tight against his chest, reaching up with one of his hands to bury his fingers in my hair and squeeze the nape of my neck. But it was when he pressed his lips against the top of my head that I knew.
I was home.
“I think, maybe, I need a therapist,” I cried.
He pressed another kiss in my hair, barely pulling away as he mumbled, “We’ll get you one, sparky.”
I wrapped my arms around his middle, giving him some of my weight. “I’m sorry,” I whimpered. “I’m so sorry.”
“You’re home, baby. That’s all that matters now.”
