Chapter 31
S wift employees are returning to work today after the holiday break. I’m so nervous to see Isabelle that I’m going to pass out or throw up—or both. I’ve wracked my brain for how to make it up to her and hopefully get another chance.
No grand gesture or amount of groveling will matter if I don’t tell her the truth. That's the least I owe her. I'm pacing the lobby of the lodge, waiting for her to come in for the day. I’ve got one of her dirt drinks in one hand, and my last hope in the other.
After what feels like an eternity, she comes through the main doors.
She's so goddamn beautiful. Her hair is down today, without a trace of makeup on, those cute pink glasses sliding down her nose.
She's wearing a simple black long-sleeved T-shirt with a subtle V-neck. She’s tucked it into a denim mini skirt.
Holy shit, she's a knockout with black tights and that pair of pink Chuck Taylor’s that are adorable as hell.
She shucks off her coat and starts rooting around in her bag for something, so she doesn’t notice me right away. She raises her head and electricity crackles between us like a live wire.
Isabelle tips her pointed chin up in dismissal.
She hikes her bag higher on her shoulder and starts to march around the edge of the foyer to avoid me.
I follow her at a respectable distance until we reach the hallway.
She pauses, looking right, towards my office, and left, towards the alcove library. I come around to stand before her.
“Sugar,” I plead.
“Don’t call me that,” she hisses in return.
“Ok. Baby. Honey. Please.” I’ll say anything to keep her listening.
Isabelle turns towards my office, surprising me. I follow her like a lost puppy and close the door behind us. She tosses her bag and jacket on the guest chair and cocks a curvy hip out, arms crossed in a show of pure attitude.
“Please what, Reid? I have nothing to say to you. May I please get the itinerary for our January trips?” Ok, getting straight to business. My girl is strong.
I carefully take the few steps to stand across from her.
I hold out the to-go cup and gesture for her to take it.
“It’s your favorite.” She eyes the offensive beverage and seriously considers not taking it.
Thankfully she relents and gently takes it from my hand.
“Thank you,” she mutters, a hint of sadness in her voice.
It kills me seeing her so hurt and it’s my fault .
I drag the guest chair to sit beside my desk chair and point them towards the windows overlooking the snow-covered meadow. “Please,” I plead, and gesture for her to come sit beside me. She hesitates for a long time, looking at me with suspicion and distrust in her sky-blue eyes.
Because she's clearly too good for me and a better person than me, she comes and joins me to sit in front of the windows. I lean my elbows on my knees as the weight of what I need to say settles on my shoulders. But I'm a grown fucking man, so I straighten my spine and sit tall for her.
“Thank you for giving me a moment of your time. I know I don’t deserve a second of it. You don’t owe me a thing, Isabelle, but I’d like the chance to explain myself. And if you want to tell me to go to hell after, I understand.” I wait for her permission to continue.
She twists her rosy lips to the side, contemplating what to do. Thank whatever god I’ll have to pray to because she nods in agreement.
“It goes without saying I’m not a perfect man.
I’m not even a decent man. I have no excuse for anything I’ve done to hurt you, but I’d like to explain the best I can.
You know my brother Sam died last year. I haven’t spoken about him to you at all.
But to understand who I am today, I think I need to. ”
Her eyes soften and brows pinch in concern. “Ok.”
“Sam was the best of us. Smart, kind, outgoing, and funny as hell. I was so fucking proud when he went out of state for college. He met the love of his life, my sister-in-law Quincy, Connor’s older sister. I think you know her.” She nods in affirmation.
“He built a great life for himself out there. He deserved every bit of good.” My throat squeezes with emotion.
“It was completely unpredictable and unavoidable. He was perfectly healthy, running on the treadmill, when he collapsed from an aortic aneurysm. He was gone within two hours.”
Reliving the memory rips me open every single time. I guess aortic aneurysms can go completely undetected with no symptoms, even in a healthy young person. There was no cause, nothing or no one to blame, only the cruel reality that death is inevitable. For Sam, that reality had come far too soon.
That morning, I'd just snoozed my alarm when I got the call from Dad that Sam was in an ambulance being taken to the hospital. One minute I was fading in and out of a dream state, the next my world paused on its axis. As I sped towards the hospital, the rising spring sun shone just like any other day, as if my life wasn’t crumbling away from beneath me.
The angel she is, Isabelle scoots closer to me and lays a delicate hand on top of mine. I can’t resist the pull to turn my palm up and lace our fingers together. She gives my hand a caring squeeze, giving me the strength to continue.
“It was like I died that day. I became a ghost of myself. I'd already retreated into myself and pushed everyone away after my accident. But after we lost Sam, I gave up. I wouldn’t talk to my family about my grief, or a therapist, nobody. It festered inside and poisoned me. My drinking was out of control, and I didn’t care about anything or anyone around me. ”
“The day I crashed into you at the banquet, I helped Quincy move back to Swiftwater into a house all by herself. My baby brother’s widow sat catatonic while we did what we could to make her comfortable starting her new life…
alone. I was hollow and angry that day. I didn’t want to go to the banquet.
And my first interaction with you was horrific.
I'm so incredibly sorry for everything I did and said to you that night.”
She's looking blankly out the window with tears welling in her eyes. I’ll never forgive myself for putting them there, and I vow to never let her cry any tears other than from happiness ever again.
“You wouldn’t know, because I acted like an ass, but when I laid eyes on you, picking yourself up off the floor like a warrior, I thought you were stunning.
I was immediately captivated by your light blue eyes, framed by those adorable pink glasses.
I was transfixed by the little jewels in your nose.
God your hair was so pretty that night.” She struggles not to look at me.
“And you gave me hell. You were a firecracker, not taking my shit. I was so turned on, sugar.” Her eyes flick up to mine with a simmer of heat and return to the scene outside.
“Like I said, it’s no excuse. It’s pathetic, but I was drunk off my ass when my parents introduced you to me.
I'm ashamed and furious with myself that I believed the rumors about you for even a second. What I said to you that night was repulsive, and I know it doesn’t count for much, but I'm truly sorry. Even worse is that I did ten times worse than what they accused you of, and I was admired for it. You didn’t do a damn thing, and this town crucified you.
Even if you never forgive me, I'll spend the rest of my life protecting your honor. I swear it.”
Like it’s the only thing she can say today, she quietly says, “Thank you.” I take it as a step in the right direction, so I sit forward a bit more in my chair and take her other hand, pulling her to face me.
“That night at the football game, I started drinking early because being out in the crowd, everyone staring at my messed-up face, made me want to crawl out of my skin. Again, alcohol helped me be more of an asshole. I take full responsibility for what I did, drunk or not. What I said to you was unforgivable. I'll atone for the rest of my life for saying such a cruel thing to you. The woman standing next to me when you saw me was a girl I used to hook up with and she was tearing me down strip by strip. I was raw and mortified when you came over to me. It’s not any excuse, you didn’t deserve any of it, sugar. I'm so fucking sorry.”
Isabelle has tears flowing freely down her gorgeous face. I want to catch each and every one with a soothing kiss. But I don’t deserve the privilege of kissing her.
“I’ve been such a prick to you all these months. Partially because I refused to work through my shit to be better for you. And partially because I'm so ridiculously attracted to you, I acted like a little boy pulling your pigtails.” I laugh at myself. “I’m a goddamn fool for you, Isabelle.”
“When you sketched out that Lucky Spurs Ranch sign, something cracked open inside me, releasing years of pressure. I’ve never shared my dream with another soul, but I knew I could tell you.
I imagined you on the ranch with me. It felt inevitable, Isabelle.
And then actually having you on my ranch, fuck.
I knew then and there I needed to be enough for you. ”
“New Year's Eve would have been Sam’s thirtieth birthday.” I can’t look at her.
“I was fucking lost, Isabelle. I made the stupid decision to drink away my grief and pain. To put it bluntly, I just couldn’t.
The way I spoke to you is unacceptable. If I could do it over, I would've invited you to the bar myself and told you all about my brother.
And I would've begged you to let me kiss you at midnight.”
The pain and sadness in her eyes break my heart, her lips and chin trembling?—
“Please don’t cry, baby. Please let me fix this.” I know I don’t deserve another chance, but I’ll sacrifice anything to get one.
I’ll never forgive myself if she gives up on me, what little soul I have left will die. I’d spend the rest of my miserable life mourning losing her and regretting what could have been.
She doesn’t nod or give any indication of how she's feeling.
I can’t take this distance another second.
Holding her hands for dear life, I get out of my chair and down onto my knees in front of her.
I release her delicate fingers and cradle her painfully beautiful face in my hands.
I take the risk and press soft kisses to each and every tear that falls from her glowing eyes.
“I think this is the most words you’ve ever said in one stretch. Maybe in your entire life,” she jokes, mischief backlighting the sadness in her sparkling eyes. There she is. There’s my girl. I haven’t completely lost her.
“You broke me, Reid,” she chokes out.
“I know, sugar, I’m so sorry,” I plead.
“No, I don’t think you do know.” She removes my hands from her face and gestures for me to return to my seat. I do, because who am I to disobey her right now?
“I’ve been destroying myself for months trying to understand you and making excuses for you.
I’ve been bullied and exiled for years for things I didn’t do.
I know I didn’t exactly help myself—that's on me. But to come home for a dream job and find that I get to spend time with the one man I’ve ever had a crush on—” She trails off, the agony clogging her throat eviscerates me.
“Just to find that you truly believed those things about me. And to throw them in my face…” She’s not crying anymore, steely resolve settles into her features and I'm so proud of her for standing up for herself, but terrified for what it means for me.
“I don’t want to want you.” The blow hits me square in the chest, my heart stopping at the thought of losing her. “I don’t want to have to keep forgiving you. I don’t want to spend another sleepless night crying over you.”
Fuck. Each tear that slips down her rosy cheeks is another hole piercing my chest. I knew I’d fucked up. But seeing how badly I’ve hurt her is flaying me open. I wouldn’t want me either.
“You crushed me, Reid.” Her despondent tone wrecks me.
“I know, baby, and I hate myself for it.”
She lets out a disbelieving laugh. “You know, I should be thanking you.” What the hell?
“In your fucked up way, you encouraged me to stop hiding and putting on a facade for the rest of the world. You challenged me to reevaluate my choices and decide who I want to be. I haven’t felt so much like myself since I was fifteen years old. You gave that to me.”
“No, Isabelle, you did that all on your own. And I'm so fuckin’ proud of you.” She’s blossomed before my eyes, and I’ve never seen a more beautiful sight.
“I can't fathom the depth of your grief from losing your brother. If I ever lost Delilah, I’m not sure I’d survive it. Thank you for telling me. It helps me understand you a bit better.” I’ll tell her anything she wants to know if it will keep her from quitting on me.
“But I don’t know if I can trust you. I already feel like such a fool for holding out hope for this long. I’m just going to get burned in the end.” A flaming arrow pierces through my heart. The thing is, I can’t blame her for feeling this way. It’s all on me. I did this to her. To myself. To us.
“I don’t expect for a second that you'll give me another chance. But with every breath I take, I hope you'll consider it. Please, Isabelle. I know you can feel the chemistry between us. It’s like I can feel you tugging on one end of the fishing line that’s hooked into my heart.”
I take her hand and press it against my pounding heart and hold her there. “Do you feel that? That's what you do to me. Please tell me you feel it too.”
She takes my free hand and presses it to her chest—to the heart beating to the same rhythm as mine. “I feel it too.” The relief I feel is euphoric. She's giving this to me.
A chance.