Page 51 of Hidden Vows
Dad tried to talk me out of it. He tried so hard to get me to stay, to try and work it out.
I never told him what happened—the truth or the lie. I wasn’t brave enough—strong enough—to tell him any of it. I was afraid if I told him the truth, he’d convince me it didn’t matter if he lost the bar. And I was afraid if I told him the lie, he’d never look at me the same again.
I was afraid to see the disappointment in his eyes.
I wonder if you ever told him what happened.
He’s never said anything to me, but then again, he doesn’t talk about you—he never has.
I didn’t ask him not to, it’s just something he assumed. Not that he was wrong. I can’t handle hearing about your life.
I couldn’t stand the thought of running into you around town, of seeing you fall in love with someone else, of having towatch you live a life without me by your side.
That’s why I left. And it’s why I’ll never go back.
Fifteen years to the day since I said goodbye, and I can’t get your face out of my head. I thought I’d seen heartbreak in your eyes before, but that day proved me wrong.
You were just eighteen years old, barely married two months, and your marriage was already over.
I hope you’ve found peace and happiness with whatever you’re doing. I hope all your dreams have come true. I hope…
twenty-three
JUDE
She’s not goingto answer. I know it, but that doesn’t stop me from knocking anyway.
“Abs, talk to me,” I beg, resting my forehead against her door.
It’s been seven days since that night in my apartment, and maybe I should be giving her space to come to me when she’s ready, but I just don’t have it in me—not after all this time away from her.
Not after how it ended.
Being with Abbey was always amazing. Even when we were bumbling teens with absolutely no idea what we were doing. Learning and growing with Abbey created a connection I’ve never had with anyone else. And even though it’s been seventeen years since we were last together, Friday night felt like we were on a path to something truly transcendent.
Not a single part of me has thought of walking away from Abbey since I came home, but after that night—after remembering what it’s like to be pressed against her, to have her pressed against me—there’s nothing anyone or anything can do to take me away from her.
The only way I leave is if Abbey tells me to.
“Abbey, please open the door,” I plead. “You can’t avoid me forever. I won’t let you.” I wait a few minutes, listening for any sounds on the other side of her door but hear nothing.
I know she’s here. I heard her come home for the first time all week a few minutes ago. She probably thought I was down in the bar and wouldn’t know she was home, but fortunately for me, I’ve hired help and don’t need to be there every minute it’s open anymore.
I’ve been so absent from the bar all week, Gage, Caleb, and Declan all showed up at my door at different times wondering what was going on. I couldn’t keep it from them, what happened seventeen years ago. I didn’t tell them everything—Abbey deserves to be the first person to hear the full story—but I told them enough to understand why I was even more of a broody ass then normal.
“Mo ghrá,” I choke out. “I’m not gonna leave until you talk to me.”
I lift my head, my eyes catching on my left hand resting against the door. The word tattooed across my knuckles steals my attention and I’m instantly taken back to the day I decided to get those letters permanently inked on my skin.
It was my first tattoo and the artist tried like hell to convince me to start with something else. Hand tattoos fade the fastest and often have to be touched up. A lot of tattoo artists won’t even bother with hand tattoos, but I was adamant. I needed the reminder of everything I left behind only three months before. I needed to see it on a daily basis, and the Gaelic word fit perfectly.
Four letters, a connection to the heritage my father always took great pride in, and a reminder of what I left in Ashford Falls.
ANAM.
Soul.
“Abbey.” I pause, listening for anything, and this time I hear the faintest shuffle behind the door. I don’t let the fact the door isn’t opening stop me from finally speaking the words I’ve bottled up for so long. “I want to say I’d take it all back if I could, but I wonder where we’d be—who we’d be—if we hadn’t spent at least some time apart. I’ve loved you my whole life, Abbey. That has never changed and it never will.” The sound of the lock turning stops me, but when the door stays closed I continue.
