Page 121 of Perfect Pursuit

I don’t have to guess who did this.

Ethan did.

His chin lifts before he rolls his body off the door jamb and he disappears.

I want to clamber down the steps and ask how he can shout such vitriol and still care for my heart. I want to know how he can honor my mother and me yet demean the manner in which I tried to save her. I want to give him hell for what he said and smother him with love for this precious gift. A gift that no matter what, reminds me I’ll never be alone because I’ll always have love.

But he just left me to think.

CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN

I don’t understand winter in the South.

—@PRyanPOfficial

That’s because it doesn’t exist. Shoot.

—@CuteandRich3

What?

—@PRyanPOfficial

I just got sand stuck to my skin.

—@CuteandRich3

Let me know where you are and I’ll brush it off.

—@PRyanPOfficial

Aww, Ryan. Are you finally asking me out?

—@CuteandRich3

Would you say yes?

—@PRyanPOfficial

It doesn’t take much to pick the lock to get into the shed on Helen’s property. I just hope she has the tools I need so I don’t waste time renting them. Fortunately, everything is there from a relatively new lawn mower to hedge trimmers to gardening gloves. Dragging everything I need out, I shut the door,

As I stand in the quiet solitude of her mother's backyard, memories flood my mind like a relentless tide, pulling me back to a time long ago, when life was simpler, and forgiveness came easier.

Maybe it’s the solitude or the scent of freshly cut grass and the gentle rustle of leaves whispering in the breeze that transport me to memories of doing chores over the weekend on our family farm in Kensington. I can almost feel the warmth of the ceaseless sun on my skin as I remember countless hours spent tending the animals and the dreams that never quite came to fruition after my mother died.

Mowing Helen’s lawn is therapeutic, allowing me the mental space to sort out what happened—why I blew up at Fallon and what triggered it. I know I need to talk with someone about it, but the Agency has rules in place for these types of conversations. I need a way to atone for my mistakes and reclaim the relationship I lost.

But can it be that simple?

Each blade of grass I trim, each weed I pull, is a silent prayer for Fallon to open her heart enough to listen, a prayer that she gives me a chance to mend the divide between us. I don’t want to be, but in my head are the lessons my father taught me and the values instilled in me through hard work and determination. But most of all, I'm reminded of the power of love and the lengths we’ll go to in order to protect the ones we hold dear.

“Ethan, one day, son, you’re going to fall in love.”

“I hope so, Dad.”

His hand comes down on my shoulder. “Son, when you’re wrong—and you will be—don’t be too prideful to admit it.”

I slash out at the tears leaking down my cheeks as I collect the grass clippings. That’s when I hear her gasp.

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