Page 54 of The Player

Uh-oh. A fine time to realise she loved Wade when she was on the verge of hyperventilating, collapsing, or both.

What could she say?

A thousand responses sprang to her lips, none of them appropriate. She couldn’t uproot Cindy. Couldn’t lose Shar. Couldn’t do any of this without the stability she’d worked so damn hard to maintain.

It had been her priority when her folks, particularly her mum, left. Trying to maintain normality. Pretend everything was okay. That the two of them would be fine.

To tear that all away from Cindy on a whim to follow her heart?

She couldn’t do it.

Had Wade really thought this through? Had he considered what it would be like living with her and her sister? His place would need to be remodelled and that was only one of the many changes he’d have to cope with.

What if he grew tired of it? What if he couldn’t handle having Cindy full time? What if Cindy grew to love him as much as she did and then he ended it? The emotional fallout from something so major would definitely have a detrimental effect on Cindy physically.

No, one Lithgow sister having her heart broken was enough. She’d vowed to protect Cindy and, sadly, that meant giving up her one shot at happiness.

‘Your silence is scaring me,’ he said, continuing to chafe her hand in his, but no amount of rubbing could stem the iciness trickling through her veins and chilling every extremity.

‘I think you’re incredible for asking us to come with you, Wade, but we can’t.’

His hands stilled. ‘Can’t or won’t?’

‘Both,’ she said, wondering if that was the first impulsively honest thing she’d ever told him.

She’d spent a decade carefully weighing her words, saying the right thing, doing the right thing, yet now, when it would pay to be circumspect, a plethora of words bubbled up from deep within and threatened to spill out.

‘The fact you care enough to include Cindy in your offer means more to me than you’ll ever know, but I can’t uproot her.’

She gestured to the backyard where the sound of voices and laughter drifted inside. ‘She’s comfortable here, she’s safe. It’s the only home she’s ever known and I can’t move her halfway across the world.’

He willed her to look at him, his gaze boring into her, but she determinedly stared at their joined hands.

‘She’ll have the best of carers and medical professionals. I can afford it—’

‘No.’ The vehement refusal sounded like a gunshot. Short. Sharp. Ominous. ‘I’ve always taken care of her and I’ll continue to do so.’

He released her hand and eased away as if she’d slapped him. ‘Is it so hard to accept help? Or are you too used to playing the martyr you’d do anything to continue the role? And shouldn’t Cindy get a say in this? In how she wants to live her life?’

His harsh accusation hung in the growing silence while a lump of hurt and anger and regret welled in her chest until she could hardly breathe.

He swiped a hand across his face. ‘Sorry, that was way out of line. But you need to realise you have a life too—’

‘My life is here, right where I want to be,’ she said, finally raising her eyes to meet his, seeing the precise second he registered her bleakness. ‘Cindy is all I have and I’m not going to abandon her.’

‘But you won’t be.’ He tried to reach for her and she wriggled back. ‘You’re not your folks, Liza, you’re so much better than them. But the strain of bearing a constant load will eventually tell. It’s not healthy shouldering everything by yourself.’

He tapped his chest. ‘Let me in. I’ll be here for you. Always.’

That sounded awfully like forever to Liza and it only added to her grief. She’d be walking away from the best man she’d ever met.

But she didn’t hesitate, not for a second. Wade was right about one thing. She wasn’t her folks and there was nothing he could do or say that would make her put her needs ahead of her sister’s.

She shook her head, unable to stop the tears spilling from her eyes. ‘I can’t. Sorry.’

And then she ran. Ran from the house, ran from the man she loved, ran from a bright future. Ran until her lungs seized and her legs buckled. Even then, she kept pushing, jogging four blocks before she registered the car cruising beside her.

When she finally couldn’t take another step from sheer exhaustion, she stopped, braced her hands on her thighs, and bent over to inhale lungfuls of air. It didn’t ease the pain tightening her chest in a vice.

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