“No, it wasn’t like that.” At least, she’d never intended it to be. “I did want him to take me seriously. To respect me as an adult. But I also wanted to be your wife. To love you and be loved by you. And then I got scared.”
He would never believe how difficult it had been to walk away from him—the fact she had negated any justification she might provide. There may be two sides to this story, but she knew he didn’t really want to hear hers. Still, she needed to try.
“We were too young to know what we were getting into. It was for the best, for both of us.”
He turned toward her then, his eyes shining in the lamplight. She wished she could crawl under the seat and hide from the storm brewing in those eyes. But she needed to face him. She needed to hear his truth, even if it wasn’t hers.
“Well, your daddy made it crystal clear what was best for you, Libby.” His voice held even and steady as he talked, making it all the more unnerving. “And it surely wasn’t being married to a poor cowboy. I was out trying to make money, hoping you were waiting for me to come and claim you when I had some, even though you ignored my phone calls. Then I reached in the PO Box one day and pulled out that envelope.”
“He would have destroyed you, Chance.”
“You’re trying to say you left me for my own good?” He barked out the words like a lone dog ready to fight the world. And that was probably what he felt like. Her heart pinched. “Is telling yourself that how you sleep at night? Truth was, Libby, you just didn’t believe in me. Didn’t believe I could take care of you. Didn’t believe I’d make something of myself, that I could handle your old man.”
“He’d have had you up before a judge before the break of day. He would have found something for them to charge you with, and lord knows it wouldn’t have taken much.”
“He’s nothing but a big fish in a little pond. Cheyenne, maybe Wyoming, but that’s as far as his reach goes.” His face may have been tinged the color of fire, but there was no emotion in voice. “It was me you didn’t trust.”
She’d never seen him look so hard, so unyielding. She shook her head. Felt the burn of tears as her eyes filled. “No, it was me I didn’t trust. I didn’t trust myself, Chance.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“What you already know. I was weak. I was scared.” She felt tears wet her cheek despite her struggle. She’d never forgive herself for the pain she’d caused him. And knowing he’d never forgive her was something she could hardly bear.
He continued to stare at her in the dim glow of the meager light. She was counting on the shadows to keep her emotional state hidden.
“Are you crying?” he asked finally, his voice suddenly lower, deeper.
She shook her head and turned toward the window.
“Libby, look at me.”
Still staring out the window, she shook her head again. How could she ask him now? And yet, how could she move on with her life if she didn’t? There was Ben to consider. Besides, it was clear whatever feelings Chance once had for her were gone. Replaced by anger and bitterness. Worse thing was, she couldn’t blame him. Tears trickled down her cheeks as she tried to hold back the sobs.
“I’m angry, Libby. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to let go of it. But…”
She felt his warm hand on her shoulder. And then those strong arms of his were pulling her close. Placing her head on his chest, she buried her nose in his soft cotton shirt and breathed him in. Musky aftershave, fresh laundry, and Chance. If only he could forgive her. He held her tighter as his chin rested on her head. She gave up the struggle and let the tears fall.
Chapter 3
Chance felt completely undone. His fury had unraveled like a single strand of thread holding together the fabric of his life as he waited for her sobs to subside, waited for her to lift her head, stare at him with those upending blue eyes of hers that seemed to arrow straight to his heart.
“Why didn’t you call? Talk to me? Warn me?” He’d always wondered what had changed to make her give up on their dreams. On him.
“I couldn’t face you after what I’d done,” she mumbled against his dampened shirt, her breath dancing over the fabric to warm his skin. “I knew you wouldn’t forgive me. I couldn’t forgive myself.”
“You walked.” A simple truth, but holding her warm body close to his, breathing in her essence, it no longer seemed reason enough.
When she finally looked up at him, wide eyed and with tear-stained cheeks, his heart turned over—a heart he would have sworn just a few minutes ago wouldn’t have felt anything for her tears. He tightened the mental grip on his feelings. She hadn’t wanted him enough to fight for him, for them. He had to remember that.