Love Bug (The Prescotts Book 3), Tara Wyatt [best mobile ebook reader .txt] 📗

head. “Everything was in the article, right there in black and white.”

“I think she needs to hear it from you,” said Hudson, his eyes locked on Max. “At least give her that. You said that you don’t know how to fix it. Your unwillingness to let her in and show her your scars, as ugly as you think they might be, is what got you here in the first place. So you’ve gotta show her that you can do better. She might still decide that she can’t get past it, but I think you owe her some actual honesty.”

Everything inside Max went still as Hudson’s words sunk in. He was right. He hadn’t told Willa the truth. He’d apologized and tried to make her see why he’d lied. He hadn’t owned the story. Hadn’t told her his version. Hadn’t let her in. Hadn’t showed her that he trusted her and that he felt safe being vulnerable with her, as she’d done with him. He’d pushed her away with the lie and further away by trying to make her see that the lie had been necessary.

“You’re a smart man, Hudson,” he said to his cousin.

Hudson grinned. “I know.”

21

Rain beat against the windows, an early summer storm drenching the city as Willa sat curled up on the couch with a book and a cup of tea. She’d started a new one, not able to finish reading the one she’d borrowed from Max, even though she’d been enjoying it. Dori was at work and Willa was just…adrift. She didn’t know if she’d be able to stay at Tapp after the damage her reputation had suffered, even though the article had been retracted. But if she left, where would she go? She liked her job. She didn’t want to leave.

God, everything was such a mess. Her career. Her heart. Her life.

A knock at the apartment door startled her, sending her heart vaulting into her throat. A simple knock on the door was how the home invasion had started three months ago. With her pulse pounding in her ears, she set her book aside and then crept to the door on silent feet, arching up onto her tiptoes to look through the peephole.

The rhythm of her heart changed at who she saw standing in the hallway, morphing from something panicked and too fast to something fluttery and nervous.

She unlocked the door and opened it, and at the sight of Max, only a couple feet away, her entire body came to life. Warmth cascaded through her, her limbs tingling, her entire body feeling lighter than in had in days.

It had been a week since she’d asked him for space and he’d respected her request. And for a week, all she’d done was miss him. Hurt for him.

“Hey,” he said quietly, and as she zeroed in on his face…God, he looked awful. Dark circles stood out beneath his eyes and his skin was pale. More stubble than she was used to seeing on him clung to his jaw. He wore dark jeans and a blue T-shirt and everything about him just looked tired. Tired and sad and she had to clench her hands into fists so she wouldn’t pull him into her arms. “Can we talk?”

She nodded and stepped aside to let him in, then closed and locked the door behind him. He walked into the living room and sat down on the edge of the couch, his hands clasped between his legs, his posture reminding her of when he’d been here a week ago. She wondered if he was here to give her more of the same. More apologies. More excuses.

“Do you—” She broke off and cleared her throat when her voice came out sounding rusty. “Do you want something to drink? Some water, or…”

He shook his head. “No, thanks.” He sighed and met her eyes. “I know you asked for space, but I realized that I owe you the truth. Last time we talked I apologized and tried to make you see why I’d done it, but I never just…told you. The story.”

She held her breath, her stomach fluttering as she sat down on the couch beside him. If he was really here to own his past and be honest with her, if he was really going to let her in, maybe there was hope for them.

“Okay,” she said, taking one of his hands between hers. At the contact, something that had been adrift inside her settled back into place, like a puzzle piece. “I’m listening.”

He blew out a breath and then started talking. “Eight years ago, I was dating Sophia. We’d been together for about a year—we met at a charity event—and we went on vacation with two other couples we were friends with. Well, that she was friends with. I’ve never been good with people and friends. We rented a yacht in the Hamptons and it was just supposed to be a fun long weekend.”

He swallowed and glanced away. “More and more, Sophia had kept hinting that she wanted to get engaged. She’d drop hints about rings or weddings, mentioning that we’d been dating for a year, which was true, we had. And every single time, I told her that I never planned to get married. To me, the concept of marriage was completely tainted and I had no desire to ever marry anyone. She kept bringing it up and I kept shutting it down. I know now that part of the reason was that I wasn’t in love with her. I cared about her and we had fun together, but there wasn’t a deeper connection there.” He returned his gaze to her. “Not like with you.”

She swallowed hard, her thoughts spinning as she absorbed what he was saying.

“That weekend, she wouldn’t let it go and we ended up fighting. I asked her to drop it, and she wouldn’t. She wanted to know why I wouldn’t marry her, what was wrong with her. Didn’t I love her?” He shook his head.