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)
“Whatever you decide, I expect you to follow through with what you started—what you both started. I’m not above asking you two for a quick marriage for my dying husband.” Her voice softened, but the words hit harder. “He hated that you were so lonely. All he ever wanted was to see you happy and married before he passed. So, I’m asking—begging—you to give him that.”
My head buzzed as revelations and requests crashed together, flooding my control centers until thought gave way to instinct, and I nodded.
As if Grace’s stern words had shuffled the mess in my head enough to knock something loose, a string of light appeared from the chaos, calling me to latch on with the promise of helping me find my way out.
I wrapped both hands around it, and one thought became clear.
I wish I didn’t have to go back in that room alone.
I wish I didn’t have to face all this alone.
I wish Aspen were here.
That revelation encouraged me to keep pulling, slowly easing the knots apart.
Hospital staff passed by, families came and went, but I saw none of it—lost in my own head, working to untangle the mess I’d made. When I hit a knot too tight to loosen, rather than giving up, I found another end and pulled from there.
As the sun dipped low, casting a streak of orange across the floor, I laid my shit out in mental piles—the past on one side and the present on the other, wondering what to keep and what to throw out.
It doesn’t have to be one or the other.
Grace’s words replayed, and I took a deep breath, really hearing them, letting them sink in.
I didn’t have to throw any of it away. I didn’t have to choose. Keeping it all didn’t mean it had to stay separate—didn’t mean I had to remain trapped between who I’d been and who I was now.
When I looked at the present, I saw myself alone but strong. When I looked at the past, I saw myself happy and hopeful—but also hurt, fractured, and raw.
I wanted parts of both.
Sitting there, I finally admitted it.
I wanted the strength I’d cultivated over the years, but Grace was right—I’d never given up wanting a family. I’d just spent years building walls around that desire, sealing it off to dull the pain of not having it.
When I cracked the door on it, everything spilled out. The want. The hope. Aspen. They blended together, forming a future so vivid it filled me with something close to relief. Panic followed fast on its heels, warning me to run—that opening myself up like this meant risking real pain. But that fear belonged to the past, still speaking from its isolated pile.
Letting the past and present exist together, I could finally use what I’d learned between them. I could see the difference between the idealized dream of a naïve boy who worshipped his parents’ marriage and the reality of what it took to build something real.
And in that balance, I knew Aspen and I would hurt each other at times—but we would care enough to fight through it. In that balance, I knew she was the woman who could be my wife, not because she fit a fantasy, but because she fit me. In that balance, I could finally admit the truth.
I loved her.
But none of it mattered unless I could find a way to get her back.
“Lucian, what are you doing still sitting there?” Grace asked, her brows pinched. “If you’re going to stay, at least come in the room.”
I blinked her into focus, then peered out the window at the end of the hall, finding it dark. A quiet huff of laughter escaped me when I realized I’d been sitting there for hours.
Grace’s concern deepened as I stood, confusion joining it when she caught my smile. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” I said softly. “I am. Better.” Then I shook my head. “But I have to go. I’ve got work to do—especially if you still want me to convince Aspen to go through with the wedding.”
I left before she could respond, intent on fixing the damage I’d caused before it was too late.
CHAPTER 22
ASPEN
“Hey, Shiloh,” I called, practically skipping down the hall.
After that day in Lucian’s office, I forced myself to get my shit together. I let myself be angry—hurt, devastated, furious—and everything in between. Shoving it all down was like sealing a pot of boiling water and pretending it wouldn’t eventually explode. So I acknowledged the feelings were there, even if it was easier to cling to anger than anything else.
And then I functioned.
I made plans. I showed up. I acted like the woman who intended to run this company one day.
I made choices, starting with Shiloh.
She turned, clutching a stack of papers. “What has you so happy?” she asked, returning my infectious smile before knowing why.