Page 66 of A Fighting Chance

Somehow, I just know.

I know this is what’s been plaguing him for the past couple of days, and I understand why. Because I’m leaving. And he doesn’t want to complicate it or make it worse for either of us. For some reason, this sacrifice he’s been trying so hard to make only makes him more wonderful to me. His failure of mission at the end doesn’t do anything to diminish his efforts.

This is all we have.

This.

We simply exist with each other, neither of us pushing or pulling, neither of us asking for more. We don’t expect things from each other. We don’t ask for anything we know the other can’t give. And that’s why he isn’t standing here now, asking if I love him too or asking me to stay. A greedier man might have, but this is Gentry.

And he isn’t going to ask for anything.

Twenty-Two

Lyla

“Willyou go on a date with me?” I ask him as we’re driving back to the house from Harper’s cabin.

We’re holding hands, my hip against his. His face still isn’t right, though. It’s as if he’s in a perpetual state of pain. And perhaps he is.

“Where do you want to go?” he asks.

“I think I’ll plan this one,” I say. “But you’ll need your dancing boots.”

He gives me a quizzical look, apprehension playing on his face. “Okay.”

I bounce with excitement and he gives me a genuine Gentry smile.

“Great, meet you on the porch in, say, two hours?” I ask.

He nods and drops his hand to my thigh, squeezing it. “I’ll go, but I just want you to know, I’m an excellent dancer,” he says.

I laugh at that. “Well, that’s a relief. I was afraid you were a two-step, elbows to your sides man.”

“No way,” he says, his familiar bantering voice beginning to return.

“Okay. I shall see you soon.” I kiss his cheek and skip off inside the house.

I have the perfect outfit for this occasion. I step into Gentry’s room and head for my bags. I pull out the dress I packed for ajust in casesituation, relieved to know that in doing so, I’d covered my own ass. In reality, it’s a simple garment. A white sundress with delicate lace straps and a lace hem at the bottom. It dips down in the front to expose cleavage and the aforementioned hem is asymmetrical, cutting up in the front. It’s the perfect dress to pair with boots. I pull out white lace panties, and then my gold jewelry to accent it. I hide the outfit in my room across the hall so he doesn’t see it and then head to the bathroom to shower.

Now, every time I’m in the bathroom, I think of our shower together. Shower time has since had so many more implications than simply getting clean. I make my actual shower quick, knowing Gentry will need to start getting ready soon as well. I wipe the fog from the mirror over the sink and take note of the golden tan I’ve been blessed with since being here. It’ll only serve to make the dress look better.

After brushing my teeth, I head down the hall to my room when Gentry comes walking up the stairs.

“What are you doing in there?” he asks, as I turn the knob to my room.

“I hid my outfit in here,” I say.

He nods slowly, raising a curious eyebrow in my direction.

I shut the door and towel off before slipping on my panties and then the dress. I look at myself in the long mirror on the back of my closet door, brushing my hands over the soft cotton fabric and studying my figure. The dress cut is a few inches above my knees and the straps sit perfectly on my shoulders. Content with my appearance, I towel my hair off and grab the blow dryer. I run my fingers through my hair as I twist the damp locks between my fingers. As my hair dries, it rests into twisty tendrils. I use a fair amount of product to set the look and then get to work on my makeup, deciding a rosy bronze palette will pair nicely with my newly tanned skin.

After my makeup is done, including a light layer of pink lipstick, I put on a gold necklace that rests between my breasts, two gold stackable bracelets, and my favorite rings—one on my thumb, and one on my middle finger of the other hand. After I slide the boots on, I go back to the long mirror and assess the finished product.

Oh yes, this will work.

Not too shabby, if I do say so myself.

I text Gentry.

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