Page 120 of One More Chance

But I had let her down by not being here when she needed me the most after his death.

“What are you talking about? You never let him down, Lucas. I was the one who was too afraid to return to Maple Ridge because it hurt too much to see you. I put my own needs above those of my brother’s. I just—I just didn’t realize how broken he was after returning from Afghanistan. How broken you both were. I thought he was getting better. That things had improved for him.”

Simone’s beautiful hazel eyes are filled with love and understanding and compassion. None of which I deserve after how I reacted earlier. Don’t deserve, but I still take them in with long thirsty gulps.

“I love you, too, Lucas. I’ve been in love with you for forever. I might not have realized I was in love with you when I agreed to marry you, but the love has always been there.”

This time when our lips meet, peace, hope, love, desire flicker hotly in my chest. My tongue glides against hers, doing what it can to heal her pain.

Her fingers duck under the hem of my T-shirt, and she strokes the skin just above the snap on my jeans. In one easy move, I strip off the damp top and dump it on the floor.

That’s about as long as I let my mouth leave hers.

She makes quick work of the snap and zipper on my jeans. I yank the damp fabric down my legs, taking my boxer briefs with them. My cock springs free, already missing being inside her.

Simone wraps her hand around the thick length. The gleam in her eyes shifts to mischief. “Maybe we should do something about this before we shower?”

“I think, Mrs. Carson, that’s a brilliant idea.” I unzip her jeans and remove them, my fingertips tracing the length of her body, worshiping the strong and beautiful woman beneath the soft skin.

My gaze lands on her right hip. On the lily tattoo with the single white wing.

An angel wing.

My heart tightens and my breath stalls and my stomach free-falls onto a land mine. The force is enough to cause my knees to crumble under me. Not a gentle, controlled crumble.

One that crushes dreams.

Christ, all this time I thought it was a bird wing.

How could I have been such an idiot?

Kneeling, I graze my thumb across the tattoo. “You didn’t get this because you loved the picture on Pinterest, did you?”

“That’s right.” Her voice is the soft brush of a feather, and it pulls at my heart. “I named our daughter Lily.” She traces the petals and swallows. “I did this so she’s always with me.”

I press my lips to the symbol for our daughter. An image of what she might’ve looked like—a reflection of Simone—flickers in my mind. Dark hair that shines like a flame in the sun. Large brown eyes full of questions and kindness and a heavy dose of stubbornness.

A breath-stealing smile.

A beautiful soul.

I rest my forehead on Simone’s hip, and an overwhelming emotion crashes into me, a giant wave against jagged rocks. Guilt, pain, grief, bitterness drag me beneath the surface. Threaten to drown me.

I can’t breathe.

I can’t breathe.

I can’t breathe.

I drag in a great gasping lungful of air.

A distant sob assaults my ears. A raw, soul-shattering sob.

I realize then that the sound isn’t coming from Simone. My body shakes from the force of my grief.

Being weak isn’t in my bones. I have faced down the enemy and I have faced down the demons that tried to destroy me. I’ve lost people who meant a lot to me.

But this…this is worse.

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