Page 27 of You Had Me At Valentine

I’ve been so focused on protecting everyone. Lachlan’s interests. Lyra’s heart. My own place in their world. The irony is, I managed to destroy all of it anyway.

“You’re right.” Two simple words, but they break something inside. “I’ve been so busy trying to prove myself worthy of you. Worthy of being in your father’s realm. I thought that was the right thing to do.”

“Don’t.” She backs away, shaking her head. “Don’t try to turn this into some noble—”

“It’s not noble. It’s the truth. I let your father make my choices because I was afraid I wasn’t good enough. And because I owe him, I let him control me.” I gesture to the Valentine still crushed in her fist. “But I wrote those words, Lyra. I meant them. I still do.”

My hope is that it means something toher.

“And that’s supposed to make everything okay?” Her voice cracks. “You’re still here to sell my inn. Still following his orders.”

“No.” The certainty in my voice surprises us both. “I’m not selling it.”

She stills. “What?”

“I’ll withdraw from the sale tomorrow. Find a way to help you keep the inn if that’s what you want.” What am I doing? I loosen my tie because suddenly I can’t breathe. “But I need you to know that I love you—”

“Save it.” She tosses the Valentine onto the desk between us. “You’ve presented your case, counselor. The jury has not been swayed.”

She turns away, but not before I see the tears she’s fighting. Around us, the party seems to hold its breath. Or maybe that’s just how it feels when your whole world implodes.

Someone turns up the music—probably Tabitha running interference—but it’s too late. The damage is done. Historyrepeats itself with the worst possible twist as I watch Lyra walk away from me.

Ten years ago, I did the walking. When I chose security over courage. When I chose to believe Lachlan instead of believing in Lyra’s love.

The Valentine sits on the desk like a bomb that’s already gone off. I could have diffused it if I’d just been honest from the start. Then and now.

But I wasn’t. Because the truth is, I’m still that scared kid from the wrong side of town, trying to prove I belong in Lyra MacLellan’s world.

And I just proved exactly why I don’t.

“You really screwed up.” Tabitha appears beside me, scooping up the Valentine. Her earlier threats are notably absent, replaced by something that sounds suspiciously like pity.

I don’t even have the energy to be mortified that she’s reading my teenage declaration of love. “Are you thinking of those six places you know of to hide a body in these mountains?”

“I actually just thought of a seventh that would be perfect for you.” She tucks the Valentine back in the box. “But you going away permanently isn’t going to fix this. It’ll just make me feel better.”

“Nothing’s going to fix this.”

“Maybe not. But you know what definitely won’t? Standing here feeling sorry for yourself while she’s upstairs thinking every good thing between you was a lie.”

Her words hit like a shot of whiskey—burning all the way down but clearing my head.

Around me, the party continues. Couples dance. One of Tabitha’s aunts dabs at her eyes, still clutching her Valentine. Victoria Campbell is smiling through her tears, holding her long-lost love letter.

This party—Valentine’s Day as a whole—is about people taking risks with their hearts by giving them to someone else. While I stand here letting the woman who already has mine slip away. Again.

The thing about being a lawyer is that you learn to look at things from every angle. To weigh the evidence. Calculate the odds. It’s a cold business.

I’m tired of being cold.

“You want to know the most ironic part of all of this?” I’m about to crack under the pressure of that irony. “I gave up my future with Lyra so she could have everything she deserved, all the wealth and privilege that comes with being a MacLellan. So she could inherit her father’s legacy. And she doesn’t want the resort. She wants this inn.”

“You’re talking to the wrong woman.” Tabitha shoves the Valentine against my chest. “Tellher. Before you both spend another decade believing the lies.”

“She won’t listen.”

“Then make her listen.” She gives me a look that could strip paint. “She never fell out of love with you. Are you really going to make her suffer for another minute when you’ve already lost ten years?”

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