Page 117 of Stormswept Colorado

“I felt like the shame would swallow me up. I couldn’t bear to tell Lori. That’s why I didn’t wait for her to get home. I wrote her a note, saying I was running away, but it was a lie. People think I made some brave choice, chose my music, but I didn’t. I left because my dad didn’t want me. I’ve been lying ever since.”

“Nobody could blame you for that. You protected yourself.”

“But that night still lives inside me. This…shadow over me. That’s why the first message from Biggest Fan terrified me so much. The photo of me from back then. I didn’t want anyone to know.”

I could imagine Ayla at sixteen. She’d probably had something magical about her, even then. Roy Carpenter saw her light and tried to steal it for himself. And the colonel, in his twisted way, was jealous of his daughter. Wanted to snuff her light out and escape it.

“You didn’t let those men smash your dreams. You kept going.”

“But no matter how successful I am, how many adoring fans are screaming my name, I still hear my father telling me to get out of his house. How he never wanted to see me again. He didn’tlove me.”

Oh, hell. I understood now. The best I could understand, anyway. What it would mean to Ayla if I said I loved her.

Fans and admirers said they loved her on a daily basis, but they didn’t truly know her.

If I ever changed my mind, took my love back,threw her away, then it would destroy her.

“Ayla? Can you look at me?”

Slowly, she raised her head. Revealing bloodshot eyes and tear-streaked cheeks.

“You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Teller—”

“Shhh,” I soothed, rubbing circles into her back. “You did the best that you could. Every step of the way.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because I see you. You’re brave and passionate and you never give up. That’s why I fell in love with you.”

She shuddered as she inhaled. “You can’t say that unless you?—”

“I’m sure. I love you. I love Ayla Hopkins, Ayla Maxwell, every version of you. I’ll never hurt you, and I’ll never leave you or push you away.”

Silent tears poured down her face. “How can you be real?”

“I’m sitting right here.”

“I want to believe you. I really do.”

I wiped her tears. “I hope you believe it. But everything I said is true either way.” My fingers stroked through her hair. “Now, I’d like to take you upstairs and be good to you. How does that sound? Nothing but pleasure for you for the rest of tonight.”

“Perfect,” she said on a sigh. A stuttering breath followed. She was worn out from crying. “I’ve never felt better than when I’m with you.”

That settled it. I had to find a way for us to be together. I’d already known that in theory. I’d wanted it.

But now, it was essential.

I was never going to leave this woman. The rest of the world would have to bend, because I wouldn’t.

“Arms around my neck,” I said. I picked her up, switching off lights along the way as I carried her upstairs.

Her bedroom was spacious, decorated in neutral colors, with artwork on the walls and potted plants hanging in planters by the windows. Carrying her into the en suite, I set her on her feet and started the faucets in the huge tub. I got rid of my T-shirt, tossing it through the doorway into the bedroom.

Then I went to my knees in front of her. Reminded me of the time I’d knelt on the tile floor of the shower in Hartley and buried my mouth between her legs. I loved worshipping her. Craved it.

Somehow, I’d never felt like more of a man than when I was on my knees for this woman.

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