Page 78 of The VIP Package

“It’s understandable.” Her fiancé is a Navy SEAL, a job that requires a staggering level of secrecy. He can’t even tell Sara where he’s going most of the time. “It makes sense Trent would be a bit withholding.”

“That’s just it. I know he loves me. That he wants to take care of me and keep me safe. It’s his protective nature that made me fall for him in the first place.”

“Probably doesn’t hurt that the man has the body of a God.”

Sara smiles but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “You’re right. But he’s also kind and smart and just a really,reallygood man.”

“You’re right.” So why does Sara sound worried? “Trent would never hurt you, hon.”

“You’re right, he wouldn’t. Not on purpose. But if Trent got it into his head that being with himmighthurt me,I have no doubt he’d break things off. He’d leave me in a hot second if he thoughtour relationship was harming me in some way. And part of me wonders if that’s what’s happening with Ashton.”

I process her words, which make total sense. But it’s Sara’s expression that concerns me. “Honey?”

Sara bites her lip. “I’m sorry. Did I overstep?”

“Not at all. I see your point.” And I also see worry lines on Sara’s glass-smooth brow. “Are you worried about Trent leaving you?”

“No! Absolutely not.” She’s shaking her head like I’m barking up the wrong tree, so clearly my therapist Spidey senses aren’t firing right. “My point is that certain men—men with an overdeveloped sense of valor—tend to believe it’s their job to take care of the women they love. Even if that means saying goodbye.”

I swipe at my eyes with a fat wad of toilet paper. “You’re suggesting Ashton dumped me because helovesme?”

“You’re the therapist. I’ve never met Ashton.” She’s choosing her words with such care. “Your judgment’s probably better than mine.”

“Hardly.” I snort. “I’m the one who fell in love with a man who refuses to let himself be happy.”

Sara blinks. Her mouth hinges open. “You—lovehim?”

“I—”

Wow, I just said it, didn’t I?

“Yeah,” I admit. “I guess I do.”

She nods like she knew all along. “Then I’ll tell you something you might not know about men like Ashton and Trent. Men who’d rather cut off their own testicles than lie down on a therapist’s couch and share all their feelings and fears.”

“Tell me.” I find myself leaning in closer. Holding my breath for the wisdom of a sweet, twenty-three-year-old virgin. “I want to know.”

“That kind of man,” she says softly, “needs space to figure things out on his own.”

“Okay.” That tracks with my training, but still. “But if I could just make him see that?—”

“Honey, you can’t.” She shakes her head sadly, remarkably wise for her years. “Ash has to do this alone. If you care about him, you need to let him go.”

Swallowing hard, I accept that she’s right. That my sheltered young friend might understand Ash better than I do. “Okay,” I say softly, feeling my heart break all over again. “You’re right. I’ll get on that plane.”

“I know it hurts,” she says. “But it’s what you need to do.”

“You’re right,” I say softly. “I’ll go.”

I don’t say the hard part out loud. I don’t tell Sara the thing I fear most.

That after this long grieving his dead wife and child—after two decades of self-imposed exile—there isn’t much chance Ashton Holyfield will come around on his own.

Ten minutes later,there’s a knock at my door. I’m washing my face at the sink, and I dry myself quickly as I hustle to answer. I know it’s not Ash. It can’t be.

But some silly part of me won’t give up hope.

“Dr. Plier?” It’s a tall, slender woman with sleek, dark hair pulled back in a stylish ponytail. She’s even got strands of her hair coiled neatly around the elastic, a look I’ve always wished I could pull off.

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