“Ben, I don’t know what to say. If it matters, nothing has happened between Chance and me, because he’ll never forgive me. Just like you won’t. But being here I realized it wouldn’t be right to continue with us when I still have feelings for him, whether they’re returned or not.”
He stared at her a moment as if he was wrestling with what she told him. Trying to believe it or not believe it, she couldn’t tell which.
“I deserved better, Libby. I deserved the truth. From the very beginning.” He sank his boyish face into his hands and rubbed as if he were washing it all away.
“You do deserve better.” Tears swamped her eyes, but she fought them. Ben had the right to tears. She didn’t.
“Damn right.” He raised his head and stared at her an extra heartbeat before he stepped down the stairs. “Good-bye, Libby,” he said over his shoulder as he headed for his car.
She nodded, too drained to protest. Besides, what could she say? It was over between them. And she once again had her father to thank for the scene. She’d had every intention of telling Ben everything when he got back. She would have avoided putting him in a situation like this, which had to be, at best, humiliating. He must have left his training to fly into Denver and travel up here.
That’s how much he cared.
And in less than five minutes it all had ended.
Ben was right. If she’d been honest from the beginning, told Ben about the divorce, told him Chance was coming to town, told him the friend she was taking care of was Chance, it wouldn’t have changed the outcome perhaps, but it would have prepared him for it. As it was, he must have felt like he’d been run over by a bulldozer.
She had a knack, it seemed, for disappointing everyone, including herself.
She waited until Ben’s car disappeared down the driveway and then grabbed the pizza box from her car, not that she had any appetite left or was at all anxious to face Chance. She’d wronged Ben, not Chance this time, but still, it didn’t feel right. It felt a kick-in-the-stomach kind of wrong. Perhaps because Ben’s charge that she walked out on people hit its mark—and stung.
She’d walked out on Chance, had essentially walked out on Ben, and hadn’t she walked out on her father? All people she cared about.
And why?
Because they thought you better than you are. That you are someone you aren’t.
Despair had a funny way of finding her. Here it was creeping through her veins, heading straight for her heart.
*
Chance leaned against the counter, bracing against the pain shooting through him. Pain from his ribs, from his foot, and from his heart. It was real. This guy had come to get her back. He intended to marry her. To offer her more than Chance would, or ever had. A nice guy who would settle down and live the suburban dream. Just the kind of guy who would get Sam Brennan’s stamp of approval.
Hell.
He should limp back to his bedroom, lock the door, and wait for her to pack her things and go.
Instead, he waited. Listened. Heard a car door slam, an engine start. Listened to the crunch of gravel as the car moved out.
Was she going to leave without her things? Without Cowboy?
He heard the sound of another car door slam.
Hope vibrated his heart. But hope for what?
That she’d broken up with Mr. Ben Wilson? Why, since Chance had no intention of taking the guy’s place?
That she was staying? How could he want her to stay when it would be torture not to touch her?
He hadn’t expected to feel so much pain when the man she was going to marry appeared in the flesh, resolute on staking his claim. It felt like she was walking out on him all over again, and this time into another guy’s arms.
As he had waited with Ben, in uncomfortable silence, for Libby to return, he’d convinced himself that her leaving was for the best. He’d be free of her, of the memories, and eventually and finally, free of the ache in his heart. He could close that chapter, write “the end.” Seeing Wilson had been just the anecdote to all the damn feelings that were beginning to resurface.
But now what if she stayed? What would it mean if she had broken up with Ben? What would it mean if she wanted to stay? He would never turn her out, even if it was the best thing for him. If she had decided to stay, he’d let her. But on what terms?
He knew the terms he’d like. Terms that placed her in his bed, but not in his heart. No strings. No regrets.
He’d have to make damn sure that if something physical happened between them, he didn’t end up caring for her. Again. That was his only way through this. Not caring.
He heard the front door open and the clipped sound of heels on the hardwood floor. She stood in the doorway, pizza box in hand, hair tumbling out of her bun, sorrow in her eyes.
His heart skipped a beat.
It seemed the breath had leaked out of her as she stood staring at the expressionless, stone-hard face of the man she loved. She wished she saw something in his eyes—anger, disgust, distrust. Anything but the blank stare that said he felt nothing.
“Did Ben leave?” he asked.
She nodded, taking a deep breath.
“Why didn’t you go with him?”
“The relationship is over.”