Page 72 of Mine To Keep (Southern Wedding)

“No,” I say, walking to her. I stand in front of her, not willing to be too far away from her. “There is so much more to say.” My voice comes out in almost a whisper, and all she can do is shake her head furiously side to side. “Yes,” I say, taking another step toward her, closing the distance. “I was so wrong.”

“I’m not doing this.” Her voice cracks as she turns away from me, and my hand comes up to grab her arm.

“Grace, just give me a second to talk,” I beg her as she rips her arm out of my hold, and I’m afraid I’ve lost her. The fear this may be the last time I get to talk to her fills me, and I know if it is, then she’s getting it all.

“I gave you a second.” She wipes away the tear. “I came into your office and asked you to talk to me.” Her words are like a kick to the balls. “And where did that get us?”

“It got us right here, right now,” I tell her. “I don’t deserve for you to listen to me.” The words are like acid on my tongue. “I’ve missed you so much I—” I start to talk but then stop when all the words want to come rushing out, knowing I might not have the time. “I was so wrong about everything. When you left me, I was so mad, not at you, but at me for not coming after you right away. For not making sure you were okay before anything else. I swear to you, swear on us, that she was there for two more minutes before I kicked her out.” She starts to say something, but I put my hand up to stop her. “All weekend long, I wanted you with us. All weekend long, it hurt me that you didn’t give me the time of day. It was like we weren’t important, and that is stupid, I know.”

“All weekend long,” she says softly, “I sat thinking of you. Of Meadow. Of us. But that was all pushed aside. It was all gone the minute—” I hold up my hand, not sure I’m ready for her to call us over. Actually, I know I’m not ready. It can’t be.

“What I said was uncalled for, and I’m the biggest jackass in the world,” I repeat the words Nash told me hourly since this whole thing started. “Jesus, Grace, I’ve never in my life been more broken than I was when you left me.” The wind blows her hair, and my hand comes up to touch it, to tuck it around her ear. “I’ve had a woman marry me and leave me, and I don’t think I ever blinked an eye that it was over. But you…” I move my hand from her hair to her shoulder. “But with you, it hurt to breathe. It hurt to think about you. It hurt to live.”

“Caine.” I see her lips quiver. “Please stop.”

“No.” I shake my head as I put my hand on her cheek, wiping away the tear. “Never. I will never stop fighting for us.”

“You say that now.” She looks into my eyes. “But then—”

“I say that now, and I vow until I stop breathing, I will fight for us.” Then I say the words I’ve wanted to tell her since I got out of the car and laid eyes on her again. The only words I’ve wanted to say to her since she walked out on me. The only words that matter to me. “I love you, Grace.” She gasps. “I’m so in love with you it makes me do things I don’t even know I’m doing.” My other hand comes up to hold her face. “Like, show up on a farm where you know her grandfather is basically a Navy SEAL. Her cousin is a Green Beret, everyone knows how to shoot a gun, and you just hurt her. Because you are a total and complete idiot.” She chuckles, and it’s like music to my heart. “Tell me I’m not too late.” I put my forehead on hers. “Tell me you can find it in your beautiful heart to forgive me. Tell me even though I’ve hurt you, it’s not the end of us.”

“Caine,” she says, “I can’t do this.”

I close my eyes. “Don’t give up on me,” I beg her. “Don’t give up on us.”

We stare at each other for what feels like an eternity. “If we are going to try this again, there have to be rules.”

“I’ll agree to whatever you want.” My heart soars in my chest.

“No more hiding that we’re a couple.”

“Agreed,” I say. “It was killing me anyway, and fucking Kevin was getting on my last nerve.”

“You need to let this age thing go,” she demands. “I don’t care if you are older than me by one year or a hundred years.”

“You’ll keep me young,” I joke with her. “I might even try to abbreviate things.”

She chuckles. “I have a rule also,” I state, and she just looks at me. “I want you to spend more time at my house. Even if you have school, I want you to do it at my house.”

“But Meadow,” she quickly chimes in, and another reason I love her, she’s more worried about what my daughter thinks than I am.

“We had a chat in the last two days,” I tell her. “As much of a chat as you can have with a four-year-old. I told her I wanted you to have sleepovers.” Her eyes go big. “She said she liked sleepovers.”

“I love her,” she finally shares with me.

“I know,” I admit. “I know you do.”

“I think I fell in love with her the second she threw up on me.” I chuckle. “I mean, I was already starting to fall in love with her father, so—” It’s my turn to gasp. “I love you, Caine. You and your stupid, stubborn head.” I don’t let her say another word before I squeeze her face in my hands and kiss her lips. Her hands grip my waist as I pull her closer to me. The kiss is better than I remembered it being. I’m about to turn my head to the side when we hear the crunching of rock, and she turns her head to the side.

An old pickup truck parks, looking at us. The driver’s door opens, and a man steps out wearing old jeans, a button-down shirt, with a cowboy hat on his head. “Shit,” Grace curses as the man walks toward us. The rim of his hat blocks me from seeing his eyes.

“Well, well, well.” His voice comes out when he gets close enough. “Thought I’d find y’all here.”

“Grandpa,” Grace says, putting her arm around my waist, “this is Caine.”

“Aha,” he says, smirking, “the face behind the voice.” He extends his hand. “Nice to meet you finally.”

“Nice to meet you, sir.” I shake his hand. “Thank you for all your help.”

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