Page 209 of The Heartbreaker for Hire

I'd told her I loved her. I'd put my heart in her hands. And when she'd made it clear she'd rather lose me than risk believing in us, I'd finally let her. I'd meant what I'd said yesterday. I loved her. But I was done begging her to love me back.

But watching Dylan’s retreating back, something occurred to me. There was a difference between begging someone to love you and making sure they knew you still loved them.

I didn't want to spend the next ten years wondering if I should've tried one more time. Didn't want to wake up one day with a wife I didn't love enough and kids who deserved better, wondering what my life might've looked like if I'd gone after the woman who owned every damn piece of my heart.

I checked my watch. Her flight was in two hours. If I hurried, I could get to the airport and catch her.

Maybe she'd tell me to go to hell. Maybe she'd get on that plane anyway. But at least I'd know I'd tried.

One last time.

"Fuck it." I dropped the hammer and ran. When I was halfway across the north field, I wondered why I hadn’t grabbed a golf cart, but it was too late to turn back.

I made it to my house in under three minutes and burst through the front door like a man being chased by an angry bull.

I needed a shower. Clean clothes. Car keys. Possibly a speech.

Fuck, what was I supposed to say?

Hello. Sorry to interrupt your boarding process, but I'm hopelessly in love with you and would appreciate it if you'd reconsider leaving me to die alone with my cattle.

Not great. I could think of something on the way. I was halfway down the hall, pulling my shirt over my head, when I heard it.

"Damon."

I stopped. Stood there with my shirt tangled around one arm. But there was only silence.

Great. Now I was hearing her voice. Apparently, heartbreak came with a side of auditory hallucinations.

I shook my head and started walking again. A floorboard creaked. Not the usual settling of an old house. A deliberate, unmistakable creak.

"Damon?"

Her voice. Again. Slowly, I turned toward the front room.

And there she was. Mikayla. Sitting in my video game chair. In my house. Looking at me with those big beautiful brown eyes that had been haunting my dreams for two damn years.

I blinked. She was still there.