saved his breath.
Molly never stopped writing. Never stopped caring.
When he was home on leave a year later he’d seen Eve at Old West Days and felt anew that sense of loss—and a pang of regret for what might have been. Her eyes were suspicious when he’d purposely “by accident” bumped into her, knocking her ice cream cone from her hand. Replacing the cone had given him a chance to speak to her. His heart had raced as he reached out to thumb away a bit of ice cream on the edge of her mouth.
He’d known then that he wasn’t really over her. That he would probably never be over her. But if anything, the animosity between their families had gotten worse. It was that stupid bet Brian had made with Aiden that he couldn’t get Leah to fall in love with him.
She’d fallen. And then found out about the bet.
After all the heartache, Grayhawks were never going to get along with Flynns. And Flynns were always going to resent Grayhawks for what had happened to Aunt Jane.
He loved being with Molly, loved who she was as a person. She always believed in the good in people. And she could always make him laugh. By the time he’d spent a year in Afghanistan, he’d needed someone like her in his life. He’d known the hell he would be making for himself if he married Molly, becauseMolly and Eve were inseparable friends. But he didn’t want to take the chance of some other guy stealing Molly away while he was overseas, as had happened to so many of his buddies. So he’d proposed.
He wondered later if he’d done it because he was headed for another tour in Afghanistan and feared his luck might be running out, and if he wanted to leave a part of himself—a son or daughter—behind after he was gone from this world, this might be his last chance. Whatever had impelled him to commit, he’d ended up marrying Molly.
He and Molly had gotten along well throughout their marriage, and they had two amazing kids. He just hadn’t counted on how often he’d end up having to spend time in Eve’s company. His kids adored Eve as much as his wife did, so she was always around. Connor believed in fidelity in marriage, so he’d been careful never to be alone with her. He’d always figured better safe than sorry. He didn’t have to resist temptation if it was never in his path.
He’d felt guilty whenever he found himself listening to Eve a little too attentively or laughing with her a little too eagerly or—God help him—wanting her a little too much. He’d had dreams in Afghanistan from which he awoke breathing erratically, his body hard and ready. Far too many of them did not feature his wife.
No wonder he’d felt ashamed and upset last night when he’d gotten hard as a rock holding the woman who’d haunted those dreams. He was finally free to pursue a woman he’d secretly loved the whole time he was married, but the cost had come too high. Mollyhad been precious to him, and it was hard to imagine his life without her.
When he’d kissed Eve last night, shame and regret had swelled in his chest. Desire had died a quick and certain death, and grief and guilt had taken its place.
It was painful to admit that he hadn’t been a very good husband. He’d left his wife alone too often. She’d raised their kids by herself during the long months he’d been deployed. He could have used injuries he’d suffered to avoid that third deployment, but he’d wanted to be there to watch out for his buddies. He should have been home watching out for his wife. He should have taken better care of her. If he had, she might still be alive.
He was glad Eve had stayed to talk after he’d made that stupid move to kiss her. Glad that they were going to continue the truce—an unspoken agreement to forgo Grayhawk-Flynn hostilities—that they’d managed to maintain throughout his marriage.
Connor’s musing was interrupted by Mrs. Robertson, who was sobbing loudly into a lacy handkerchief. He couldn’t help feeling sorry for his late
Molly never stopped writing. Never stopped caring.
When he was home on leave a year later he’d seen Eve at Old West Days and felt anew that sense of loss—and a pang of regret for what might have been. Her eyes were suspicious when he’d purposely “by accident” bumped into her, knocking her ice cream cone from her hand. Replacing the cone had given him a chance to speak to her. His heart had raced as he reached out to thumb away a bit of ice cream on the edge of her mouth.
He’d known then that he wasn’t really over her. That he would probably never be over her. But if anything, the animosity between their families had gotten worse. It was that stupid bet Brian had made with Aiden that he couldn’t get Leah to fall in love with him.
She’d fallen. And then found out about the bet.
After all the heartache, Grayhawks were never going to get along with Flynns. And Flynns were always going to resent Grayhawks for what had happened to Aunt Jane.
He loved being with Molly, loved who she was as a person. She always believed in the good in people. And she could always make him laugh. By the time he’d spent a year in Afghanistan, he’d needed someone like her in his life. He’d known the hell he would be making for himself if he married Molly, becauseMolly and Eve were inseparable friends. But he didn’t want to take the chance of some other guy stealing Molly away while he was overseas, as had happened to so many of his buddies. So he’d proposed.
He wondered later if he’d done it because he was headed for another tour in Afghanistan and feared his luck might be running out, and if he wanted to leave a part of himself—a son or daughter—behind after he was gone from this world, this might be his last chance. Whatever had impelled him to commit, he’d ended up marrying Molly.
He and Molly had gotten along well throughout their marriage, and they had two amazing kids. He just hadn’t counted on how often he’d end up having to spend time in Eve’s company. His kids adored Eve as much as his wife did, so she was always around. Connor believed in fidelity in marriage, so he’d been careful never to be alone with her. He’d always figured better safe than sorry. He didn’t have to resist temptation if it was never in his path.
He’d felt guilty whenever he found himself listening to Eve a little too attentively or laughing with her a little too eagerly or—God help him—wanting her a little too much. He’d had dreams in Afghanistan from which he awoke breathing erratically, his body hard and ready. Far too many of them did not feature his wife.
No wonder he’d felt ashamed and upset last night when he’d gotten hard as a rock holding the woman who’d haunted those dreams. He was finally free to pursue a woman he’d secretly loved the whole time he was married, but the cost had come too high. Mollyhad been precious to him, and it was hard to imagine his life without her.
When he’d kissed Eve last night, shame and regret had swelled in his chest. Desire had died a quick and certain death, and grief and guilt had taken its place.
It was painful to admit that he hadn’t been a very good husband. He’d left his wife alone too often. She’d raised their kids by herself during the long months he’d been deployed. He could have used injuries he’d suffered to avoid that third deployment, but he’d wanted to be there to watch out for his buddies. He should have been home watching out for his wife. He should have taken better care of her. If he had, she might still be alive.
He was glad Eve had stayed to talk after he’d made that stupid move to kiss her. Glad that they were going to continue the truce—an unspoken agreement to forgo Grayhawk-Flynn hostilities—that they’d managed to maintain throughout his marriage.
Connor’s musing was interrupted by Mrs. Robertson, who was sobbing loudly into a lacy handkerchief. He couldn’t help feeling sorry for his late
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