Page 217 of Holding On To Good

“Jesus,” Urban muttered. “Fucking. Christ.”

“—he would’ve been free to pursue a relationship with Willow.”

“He probably would’ve been married to Miranda,” Toby pointed out.

It was the same thing Willow had said last week.

If Miranda hadn’t broken things off, you’d be married to her right now, living in this house with your two point five kids.

And he couldn’t even deny it. Hadn’t denied it to Willow because it was true. Christ help him, it was true. If Miranda hadn’t broken things off, he would’ve married her.

He would’ve married her because he’d made a promise to her. Because he had loved her.

But not in the way he should have. Not in the way she deserved.

He would have married Miranda, would have loved her and taken care of her to the best of his ability.

But he still would’ve loved Willow more.

His stomach turned with guilt and shame. Jesus. He really was an asshole.

“Yeah,” Miles said, his siblings continuing to dissect his imaginary future, “but once Urban’s career tanked, Miranda would’ve found someone else—can’t see her sticking with a has-been.”

Verity waved her hands, as if erasing all prior words. “My point is that none of that was able to happen because he wasn’t free to live his own life. He couldn’t make his own choices or pursue his dreams. His entire life was ruined.” Her chin wobbled. Her voice broke. “Because he had to take care of me.”

Urban went still. His heart seemed to stop, his breath caught in his chest and he had to force himself to inhale. Miles and Toby both began reassuring her she was wrong, that she hadn’t ruined anything, that nothing was her fault.

“I didn’t have to take care of you,” he said, his words so quiet and his brothers’ yammering so loud, no one heard him.

And for a moment, Urban considered letting it stay that way. Considered letting his brothers fix this. It was easier to stay quiet. To keep hiding his true thoughts and feelings behind silence.

But he couldn’t do that to Verity. Couldn’t let her think, even for a moment, that she was some burden he’d been saddled with. That she was anything less than perfection in his eyes.

Holding Verity’s gaze, he stepped up to her. His brothers fell silent. “I didn’t have to take care of you.”

Another eye roll, because it seemed nothing, not even emotional upheaval and abundant tears could keep the teenaged attitude at bay. “I mean, it’s not like someone held a gun to your head, but you still didn’t have much of a choice.”

That was what he’d always told himself, too. What he’d wanted to believe all these years. That he’d been forced to give up his dreams and return to Mount Laurel. And while it was true that his parents’ deaths had put him in a situation he never would have chosen for himself, it hadn’t forced him into anything.

He’d always had a choice.

“Min and Greg wanted you,” he told her.

She inhaled sharply. “Uncle Greg?”

He nodded, feeling Miles’s and Toby’s eyes on him.

He’d never told anyone this before.

“Greg came to the house the morning after the funeral,” he said. “He offered to adopt you.”

Miles glared at him. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

“I couldn’t.”

At first, he’d been too shocked and grief-stricken. Reeling over the loss of his parents and terrified of what that loss meant to his future.

And then he hadn’t been able to confide in anyone—not Miles or Willow or Miranda—because he’d felt too guilty.

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