Page 41 of Forbidden Love

Deb nodded, the tears slipping freely down her cheeks now. “I know. And I don’t expect forgiveness. I just needed to say it out loud. It’s long overdue. I’ve just been so ashamed that I...have a very hard time facing the version I used to be I guess.”

Janna gave a small, almost sad smile. “We’ve all made mistakes, Deb. Maybe not that exact kind… but still. And maybe I can’t forget what you said—but I can forgive it. Especially if you’re trying to be better.”

Deb let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. “I am.”

Janna stepped forward and wrapped her in a hug, not tight, but real. Warm. “Then let’s start over. And you should meet the twins. They’d love you.”

Deb choked on a sob and returned the hug, her heart cracking open with relief. Maybe healing wasn’t just a possibility—maybe it had already begun.

CHAPTER 18

Brock scanned the roof one last time, making sure they hadn’t left anything behind. The clouds were starting to roll in, but they’d managed to finish before the rain hit, thanks to Garrett lending a hand. Now all that remained was the clean-up.

He jumped down with a grunt, landing beside a growing pile of old shingles, and began tossing them into the rusted bed of Hunter’s old truck.

“Appreciate you stepping up for the perimeter runs,” Garrett said as he passed by, grabbing another stack of debris. “Taz picked up some tracks out on the west side of town. Could be nothing, but Dell wants more patrols through that area. You in?”

“Yeah, no problem,” Brock replied, tossing his load with a heavythunk. “That kind of thing happen often?”

“More than it used to,” Hunter said, frowning as he joined them. “Dell’s still proving himself. Some rogue wolves think they’ve got a shot at challenging him—until they actually meet him.”

Garrett snorted. “You think it might be Deb’s ex sniffing around again?”

At that, Brock stilled. His eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening. “If it is,” he growled, “he’s going to wish he stayed gone.”

He turned to grab the last of the shingles when the sound of a car crunching over gravel caught his attention. Straightening, he saw Deb’s car pull into the drive and come to a stop. She didn’t get out right away. Just sat there.

Frowning, Brock tossed the last armful into the truck and hesitated, watching her through the windshield. Something wasn’t right.

He started to walk toward her, but Hunter’s voice called him back.

“Brock, grab that ladder, would ya?” Hunter had already climbed back up, his head disappearing over the roofline.

Reluctantly, Brock turned away and made his way toward the shed, his eyes still flicking back toward the car. Inside, he leaned the ladder into its corner and paused. Deb’s shed was well-organized—tools hung neatly. Everything in its place. She had an impressive amount of tools; he grinned shaking his head. She was a puzzle that was for sure.

When he stepped back outside and shut the door behind him, she was out of the car. He slowed when he saw her standing near Garrett, talking quietly. Her posture was stiff, and even from a distance, he could see her eyes—red-rimmed and swollen, like she’d been crying.

The sight hit him hard.

He didn’t know who or what had gotten to her, but rage curled hot in his chest all the same. No one should make Deb look like that.

As he passed by, her voice drifted to him on the breeze—soft, trembling. He had to physically restrain himself from going to her and taking her in his arms to shield her from whatever hurt her.

“I just wanted to say how sorry I am…”

That quiver in her tone stopped him in his tracks. His fists clenched at his sides. Whoever had made her feel this broken… they’d better hope they were long gone. Because if Brock had anything to say about it, they’d never get close enough to hurt her again.

“I just talked to Dell,” Hunter said, walking up beside him. His gaze, like Brock’s, was fixed on Deb and Garrett.

“Yeah,” Brock replied absently, eyes tracking every movement. Garrett had just pulled Deb into a hug—something tight and meaningful—and then let her go with a few parting words before heading toward his motorcycle.

“Dell wants us to start early tonight,” Hunter added, then muttered a curse when Deb turned toward them, wiping at her eyes. Her face was flushed, her expression raw. It hit Brock like a punch to the chest.

“Fine,” Brock said, barely registering the words. His attention was still locked on her. “You know what’s going on?”

“Yeah,” Hunter said, voice lower now, more careful. “But it’s not my story to tell.”

Brock’s jaw tightened.

---