Chapter 39
Denver
“Please tell me you have some food back there,” I whisper desperately, half clinging to the hotel bar. As if on cue, my stomach growls, and the bartender shakes her head sympathetically.
“The hors d'oeuvres are out soon, if that helps?” she says, continuing to dry the glass in her hand.
It doesn’t help. Between hair, makeup, and the short ceremony, I’ve eaten a single bagel, which seems unfair given that I’m the damn bride. So, while everyone dances in the ballroom next door, I’ve escaped to locate something edible.
“Please,” I whimper. “There must be something.”
“I’ve got food.”
My desperation becomes a poorly hidden smile as an arm slides around my waist and Colt kisses my shoulder.
“Really?” I ask, and he nods into my neck before holding a bag of M it’s a fear that you’ll somehow let them down.
But I know he’d want me to leave. He’d want me free of this life. Safe. Happy.
The hotel room door opens and closes.
“Perfect timing.” I wipe my eyes and stand, going for the bedroom doors. “I really need—”
I stop in place.
The letter creases in my hand as he stands there, head down as if he knows he shouldn’t be here, shoulders rising and falling with steady breaths.
Gun in hand.
“I was going to let it go,” Ranger says quietly. “I really was.”
I swallow hard. “Ranger—”
“But then I was sitting in our house. The house where I fell in love with you. Where you fell in love with me. And I realized … my son is dead. Our son doesn’t know us.
And you’re gone.” He lifts his head. I take a step away, my back bumping into the doorframe.
He pulls back the hammer on the gun. “You’re here, loving him.
And he’s loving you. And you’ll both love your child.
” He looks at me, eyes shining. “And I’m the one who loses. ”
I blink fast, trying to stay calm. “Please,” I whisper, unsure what I’m begging for.
“They never loved you like I do. Wyatt, Ethan, Colt. They don’t know what it takes to keep you happy, and don’t you deserve that?” He faces me, a tear rolling down his cheek. “If you can’t be loved the way you should be, then he doesn’t deserve you.”
My legs tremble as I step forward. “Ranger, you will hate yourself if you hurt me. You promised you’d be the only person who would never hurt me.”
“But I broke you. That’s what you kept saying.
I broke you.” His voice is hoarse, like he was screaming before he arrived.
“People will hear our story and they’ll think I’m the villain, won’t they?
They’ll think Colt is the hero. But they don’t get it.
No one will ever fucking get it,” He rubs the muzzle of the gun against his temple, squeezing his eyes closed as if he’s in pain.
“All I’ve ever done is love you. Every single thing I’ve ever fucking done is because of how much I love you.
I’m the real good guy. I’m the real hero. ”
Reasoning with him isn’t helping. Begging him won’t make him change his mind and walk out that door. And something snaps in me. His self-pity, his inability to ever see his own mistakes. He’s blaming Colt; he’s blaming me.
“You don’t get it, do you? Even now, you don’t get it.
This is your fault,” I say, anger coursing through me, hotter and thicker than my blood.
“No one made you push Angelina and Axel away. No one made you twist my father’s will.
No one made you keep and lie and hurt me.
You took Theo because you were selfish. You lied about Wyatt because you couldn’t just leave me alone.
You’re not a hero, Ranger. You will never be the hero. ”
My back hits the wall.
At first, I think I’ve tripped.
But there’s pressure, and something warm flowing down my chest.
And Ranger’s gun is pointed at me.
For years, I’ve witnessed a range of emotions from the man who was feared from coast to coast. Rage, jealousy, lust, obsession. He’s a whirlwind of hate, a twisted cocktail of power. A power I once found addictive. A power that drew me to him.
But now, there’s nothing.
The darkness of his eyes reflects nothing, shows nothing, reveals nothing. Not stolen moments just for me. Not hate for everyone else.
A dead man stands before me, but his heart is still beating.
Dizziness rocks me, and I’m sitting. My dress pools around me, and it’s not white anymore. It’s red. My last wedding dress was red, too.
Somehow, I lift my head, and Ranger steps close, the gun still aimed at me.
“You’re right, little bird. I’m not a hero.” He pulls back the hammer, tears glistening in his eyes. “I’m a god.”
And then there’s only darkness.