Page 133 of Perfect Pursuit

Ethan:

But I have to make a quick trip first.

Fallon:

Where are you going?

Ethan:

Life’s too short not to get answers.

Ethan:

I think it’s time I get them from my father.

Fallon’s head snaps in my direction the second she reads my last text. Her cheeks are flushed, making me wonder if this is what her face has looked like every time we’ve had a text exchange over the last five years. Christ, I’m such a fucking moron.

“You’re not going to hear me argue with that,” she tells me, letting me know I spoke my thoughts aloud.

I take a step in her direction and she doesn’t retreat. Another one, and still another until I’m directly in front of her. “I know I have to continue to earn back your trust, witch.”

She nods, but the corner of her lip quirks. “How do you plan on doing that?”

I tuck a piece of loose hair behind her ear. “Your mama tried to make me promise not to hurt you.”

She snorts. “That went over real well.” Then she stills as my words penetrate. Her next words are whispered. “When did she say that to you?”

“The night you graduated.”

Her lashes lower and a lone tear drips down her cheek. I sweep it away with my thumb, knowing Helen's loss will live with Fallon for a long time. Tipping her chin up, I ask, “Want to know what I said back to her?”

“Yes.”

“I can only promise to try, Fallon.”

Her breath shudders out. “I learned that the hard way, E.”

“I’d like to amend what I said to her.”

“You can’t promise to not hurt me.”

“I wasn’t going to.” Her head snaps up and for a moment, her eyes flash. There she is. There’s my witch, the woman who captivated me with a single look through my rearview mirror. “What I’d like to amend is that I can’t promise not to hurt you, but I can promise I’m never going to stop loving you.”

Her head falls forward until her forehead rests on my heart for a moment before she tips her head back again. After a while of her studying my face, her lips finally curve. “Then I guess I’ll see you at some point in New York?”

I press my lips to her forehead, giving myself a moment to gather strength for what I know is to come. Then I make a promise I know I can keep. “As soon as possible.”

CHAPTER SEVENTY-FOUR

KENSINGTON, TEXAS

For me, letting go of my anger was a great deal easier than letting go of his perceived ambivalence.

—Ursula “Sula” Moore, in an interview about her late father, software giant West Moore

Before I go to see my father, I take care of wrapping up my life in town. I contact a former navy buddy who recently moved to town to see if he wants to buy my building. When he asks why, I explain, “I’m moving to New York.”

“Doesn’t seem like your cup of tea, Kensington.”

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