Page 55 of The Careless Alpha
"I love you. I want to earn your forgiveness." The admission felt like bleeding out in public. "I want to prove that I can be the man you deserved all along. I want to show you that I understand what love means—not ownership, not possession, but partnership and respect and putting someone else's needs above your own."
"If I can't forgive you? If I can't ever trust you again?"
"Then I'll accept that too." The words came out as barely more than a whisper. "Because you don't owe me forgiveness. You don't owe me anything. But I owe you everything—a lifetime of making up for what I did."
The bell above the diner door chimed, and Rita appeared in the doorway. Her gray hair was escaping its bun in the morning humidity, and her apron was dusted with flour from whatever she'd been preparing in the kitchen.
"Five minutes are up," she said, her voice carrying the authority of someone who'd been looking after people for decades. "Annalise has work to do."
"Of course." I stepped back immediately, my hands already rising in a gesture of surrender. "I'm sorry for taking up your time."
"Wait." Annalise's voice stopped me mid-turn. "Rita, could you give us another minute?"
The older woman's eyes narrowed, her protective instincts warring with respect for Annalise's autonomy. "One minute. Then you get in here and eat something before the breakfast rush starts."
After Rita disappeared back inside with obvious reluctance, Annalise turned to me. The morning sun caught the copper highlights in her dark hair, and for a moment she looked so much like the girl I'd first claimed at thirteen that my chest ached with longing.
"I need to ask you something, and I need you to be honest."
"Anything."
"If I hadn't gotten pregnant, would you have continued treating me the same way? Would you have kept ignoring me, entertaining yourself with other women, putting off dealing with your feelings until my eighteenth birthday?"
The question was brutal in its honesty, cutting straight to the heart of who I'd been. I wanted to lie, to tell her I would have been better, that I would have realized how badly I was hurting her. But she deserved the truth, even if it destroyed any chance I had.
"Probably." The word came out as a croak. "I'd like to think I would have realized how badly I was hurting you, but honestly? I was so focused on my timeline, my comfort, that I probably would have kept treating you like an obligation until your birthday."
She nodded slowly, like I'd confirmed something she'd already known. "Thank you for being honest."
"Does that mean there's no hope for us?"
"It means I need time to think. And I need to see if your actions match your words." She placed both hands on her belly, and I watched our son move restlessly inside her. "I'm not doing this for you, Marshall. I'm doing this for him. He deserves to know his father."
"I understand."
"Do you?" Her eyes searched my face, no doubt looking for signs of the old arrogance, the old assumptions. "Because I meant what I said yesterday. If you hurt me again, if you pressure me or try to force this, I'll disappear. I'll take our son, and you'll never see us again."
"I understand." The words came out steady despite the chaos raging inside me. "I'll respect your boundaries."
She studied me for another long moment, then nodded. "There's a community center meeting tonight at seven. Local businesses, town planning, that sort of thing. If you want to understand what my life is like here, you should come."
"You want me to come?"
"I want you to understand that this isn't just a place I'm hiding—it's my home. These people are my family." She gestured toward the diner, where I could see curious faces still pressed against the windows. "If you want to be part of our son's life, you need to understand that this is his home too."
"I'll be there."
She nodded and walked back toward the diner, her hand on her lower back again. I watched her go, noting the way she moved—careful but not fragile, protective of the life she carried but not afraid.
Just before she reached the door, she paused and looked back at me. "Marshall?"
"Yes?"
"Don't make me regret this."
Then she was gone, disappearing into the warmth and safety of the diner, leaving me standing on the patio with something that felt dangerously close to hope blooming in my chest.
She's giving us a chance,Ranger said with quiet wonder.After everything we did, she's giving us a chance.
