Page 102 of Tempted By the Alpha Outlaw

She’s right there, but she’s also miles away, and I don’t know if I’ve said too much or not enough.

The silence that follows is so heavy that it’s painful.

I don’t breathe.

Magnolia doesn’t move.

Her fingers stay curled in Peaches’, like she’s the only thing keeping her grounded. Her other hand is up now, covering her chest with curled fingers, like she can clasp her heart and hold it to stop it beating.

Her lips part, just slightly, like she’s about to say something?—

But it’s Peaches who moves first.

She squeezes Magnolia’s hand, just once, then lets go. I don’t know what that means, but Magnolia reacts; she sucks in a breath, her lips pressing into a thin line, her eyes closing for half a second.

And then, she speaks.

“I don’t know what to do with this.”

Her voice is quiet.

I don’t breathe.

She swallows hard, shaking her head. “I don’t know what you expect me to do with this, Colt.”

I force a breath through my teeth. “I don’t expect anything.”

Magnolia flinches…and suddenly, the rawest, most brutal truth I’ve ever known sinks its claws into me. I could stand here and spill every piece of myself onto the floor. I could tell her a hundred more ways how much I love her, how much I never meant to hurt her, how much she changed me.

And it wouldn’t matter.

Because I did hurt her.

And no matter how honest I am now, no matter how much I lay at her feet, I can’t undo that.

Magnolia exhales shakily, then finally—finally—meets my eyes again.

“There are a hundred different ways this could’ve gone,” she says, voice steadier now, like she’s forcing herself through it. “A hundred different ways you could’ve handled this. You could’ve told me the truth from the start. You could’ve?—”

She stops, swallowing hard, lips in a tight grimace.

I swallow, my pulse hammering. “I know.”

Her eyes flash. “Do you?”

33

MAGNOLIA

"Do you?"

The words taste like iron on my tongue, raw and bitter. They hang between us, heavy as stone, pressing down on my ribs, curling tight around my throat.

Colt doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t move. Just stands there, his chest rising and falling in slow, steady breaths like he’s bracing for a blow. Like he already knows there’s nothing he can say to fix this.

The silence stretches.

And stretches.

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