Page 52 of Mine Forever
Chest heaving, my eyes slide closed as I drop to the floor, trying to bring equilibrium back to my system.
There’s no way I’d survive us coming together and leaving each other again.
The first time I’d felt like I had no good choice. The guilt laid on me by my mother had broken me.
Broke us.
At twenty-two, I still hadn’t been strong enough to buck my mother even though I knew what she was doing to me.
She’d been sick at the time, but the woman hated to see anyone happy, including her only daughter.
And she’d used her illness and my inability to say no to her to hold me back when Chase wanted me to go with him when he made the majors.
But at the time, what did I know about a broken heart?
The second time, though?
I knew what a broken heart felt like, specifically a heart broken by Chase Hanover.
I should have known better.
He’d just lost his wife and I’d wanted to comfort him, but we’d taken it a bit too far.
With a heavy sigh, I peel myself off the floor. My pity party for one has officially become pathetic.
It’s time to get myself out of personal mode and back into work mode. I may be trapped on the island, cut off from civilization, but it’s still a workday.
I put in my earbuds, start a deep focus playlist, and work for several hours, only looking up when the power shuts off, plunging the room into shadows.
Across the room, beyond the windows, the weather conditions have deteriorated. It’s becoming hard to see much outside the window from the rain lashing against it. Thunder is an almost continuous roll, and lightning bolts split the purple skies.
Licks of fear scrape along my skin, and I worry about the strength of the glass. Chase says they’re hurricane windows, so I assume they’ll hold.
God willing.
The ocean churns, dark gray and angry, no longer the navy blue beauty on a clear day. Whitecaps dance along the top of the waves that crash against the shore, and the storm surge marches up the beach.
I swallow hard and pull the curtains closed.
The knock on my door startles me. Butterflies instantly swarm in my belly knowing Chase is on the other side.
When I open the door, he stands on the threshold, hands in the pockets of low- slung jeans and a white T-shirt stretched across his broad shoulders. “Hey. You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
“The generator should kick on soon. It usually doesn’t take long.”
I nod and avoid his stare. “That’s great. Thank you.”
Just then, the room lights up from the lamps I’d had on, and beeps from various electronics go off. The white noise hum of power surrounds us.
“See? Hardly missed a beat,” he says.
“Yeah.” I tap my finger against the door and shift my feet. When did we become awkward with each other?
When you ran off and didn’t speak to him for four years.
Man, I hate awkward.
