Page 82 of Redemption

“Can I throw him out now?” I kept my voice low but not low enough that Edward wouldn’t hear.

Edward glared at me then took a breath, seeming to compose himself. “Darling, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have” —he looked close to tears. It was a masterful performance, truly— “said that.”

“You’re right.” Sloan blazed with anger. God, she was practically vibrating with it. “You shouldn’t have.”

“You say you don’t envision a future together, but just imagine all that we could accomplish. And I do care about you,” he said. “Can’t that be enough?”

“It’s not enough. At least, not for me,” she added quietly.

The question was, would I be enough for her?

I pushed away that tired narrative. It was part of the reason I’d ended things years ago. Because I was afraid I wouldn’t be enough.

When my dad was alive, he’d always pushed me to run faster, think smarter, be stronger because he knew I wanted to follow in his footsteps to become a SEAL. He wanted me to succeed. Not because that was what he’d wanted for me, but because he knew I’d wanted it.

After his death, my mom and sister had looked to me for strength and reassurance. I was always trying to live up to the standard set by my dad. I was always trying to be enough for my sister and my mom.

And when I’d started training for the SEALs, it had only gotten worse. The comparisons had been more frequent. I’d lost count of how many times I’d heard about my dad’s service record. About how he was a hero.

He was a hero, but no one was perfect. And even though I knew all that, it was impossible not to let it affect me until I became driven by the fear of failure instead of the promise of success. Until I had failed. I’d been discharged from the SEALs, and I’d thought it was the worst moment of my life.

I was a disgrace. A disappointment.

And then I’d met Sloan. And the thought of disappointing her had terrified me. The constant fear that I wasn’t enough and never would be.

I knew part of me would always fear letting her down in some way. But I was willing to try. I was willing to silence that voice of fear and focus on what I could give her—the things you couldn’t put a price on. And I could definitely give her my protection, my support, my loyalty, and my love.

Edward’s cheeks reddened. “You’re making a huge mistake.”

She lifted a shoulder. “Even if I am, it’s my choice to make.”

He glared at me then turned his attention back to Sloan. “Think of all I can offer you?—”

“I have everything money can buy.” Sloan cut him off. “What I want is love. Loyalty. Devotion. I want passion. I want a love that is all-consuming.”

“What you want…is a fantasy. You speak of love. Of passion. But those things can and will fade. I can offer you something more durable. Something you can rely on.”

“Stop.” She held up a hand. “Just stop. No matter what you say, my answer is still no. And my answer will be the same whether it’s tonight, tomorrow, or in a week. Please—” She shook her head. “Just go.”

Fucking finally.

I edged closer, forcing him to move toward the door. “You’ve overstayed your welcome.”

He got all huffy, and I grabbed his shoulder, guiding him toward the door. He tried to shake out of my hold. “Release me, you brute.”

I remained silent—for Sloan’s sake. But Edward wasn’t done.

“You think this is over, but it’s not,” he said to me. Even with him rising to his full height, I had about five inches and fifty pounds of muscle on him.

I tightened my grip on his shoulder. “Sloan said it’s over, so it is.”

“They’ll never accept you,” he hissed once we were out of earshot. “Her family. The board.” He sneered. “Look at you. You’re the help. By definition, you’re beneath her.”

“Okay, Downton Abbey.” I squeezed his shoulder to the point of pain.

“Unhand me,” he hissed through his teeth.

“Time to go. Pack up your shit.”

---