Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 86322 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86322 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
Her face brightened, the smile reaching her eyes. “But it’s different now.”
“Yeah,” I agreed slowly. “Because she’s ending it. We set rules, and she went against them—tried to change them, and when I wouldn’t, she threw a fit about it.”
She clicked her tongue, shaking her head in exasperation. “Lucian.”
“What? I never lied,” I defended.
“Yeah, right.” She rolled her eyes. “Not until the end. Then you just lied to yourself.”
“Myself?” I asked, my face pinched.
She pursed her lips and gently smacked my hand. “You may have liked her when all this started, but I’ve seen for myself that along the way, you’ve grown to love her.”
“No.” My back went ramrod straight, every fiber bracing—inside and out—against the accusation, against that word. “I don’t.”
“As I said, I know you,” she said, her tone returning soft and comforting. “I saw it happening.”
“No. It’s impossible.” I shook my head, my body hardening to encase the growing panic brewing inside. “Like you said, you know me. You knew everything I went through. You saw what the divorce did to me and how it changed me. You knew I never wanted to fall in love again.”
“I know, sweetheart. I know you tried not to.”
“No,” I barked. “I won’t. I refuse to be that dumb, naïve twenty-year-old. I won’t do it.”
She chuckled. “Then don’t.”
My gaze snapped to hers, looking at her like she’d lost her mind. Accusing me of falling in love when I knew better was no laughing matter, and she talked about it as if it were nothing. “You make it sound so simple.”
“Because it is.” She paused and let out a resigned breath. “And it isn’t.”
“Well, it sure as shit wasn’t simple with Daria,” I grumbled.
“Lucian, you were in your early twenties and had an idyllic childhood. You were so lucky to witness the kind of love your parents had. You were so lucky to have that kind of hope.” She wrapped both hands around mine and hunched closer, her gaze calling mine to hers until I relented, locking onto her sincere stare. “But life gives us lessons to learn from—some earlier than others. Your lessons came later, and that’s okay.”
“And I learned from my lessons. I learned that their love is rare and that entering a relationship with blind hope, expecting the same thing, leaves you vulnerable. It gives people access to ruin you. I swore I would never do that to myself again. I hardened my heart, and I’m better for it.”
“And I saw you become a better man—a happier man—with Aspen by your side. I saw the same joy in your eyes that I witnessed in your parents.”
I hesitated, her words wrapping around my muscles, holding me in place, giving me no other option but to listen and see the picture she painted.
“And that’s not something to be scared of. Just because you were a certain way in the past doesn’t mean it’s how you have to be now. You can learn from the past—you’re supposed to learn—and still have what you always wanted: a family you can devote yourself to and love. It’s not like giving up this cold, hard version of yourself suddenly turns you back into that unknowing twenty-two-year-old man.” She guffawed. “God, the world would be terrifying if no one ever learned from their twenties. I sure as hell would have killed Felix long ago if neither of us had.”
I chuckled, her words finding the cracks in my defenses, chipping away, making room to claw through and settle in.
“It doesn’t have to be one or the other, Lucian. You can take pieces from the past and mix them with the present—you can keep more of one without losing the other. Life is about adapting and learning while staying true to yourself. Wanting a family was always a huge part of you—it didn’t vanish. You may have built walls to avoid looking at it, but it’s still there. You can ignore it, cut people off who get too close, but is that really what you want? You can’t ignore it forever. It’s up to you to decide what to do with it—and I think Aspen could help.”
I scrubbed a hand down my face and let out a long, slow breath. Grace battered me until I sat there raw beneath her scrutiny, exposed in a blinding light with nowhere left to hide. She gave me no space to ignore any part of myself, no corner to retreat to. She took the time to call out every lie and demanded I finally look at them.
And while it all made sense, hearing the truth from an outsider—laid bare and undeniable—overwhelmed me, stealing my ability to speak.
“Think on it,” she said gently. “And know I’m here. You’re not alone.”
She patted my hand and stood. Just before stepping into Felix’s room, she turned back, her gaze firm, unyielding.