Page 63 of Written with Regret (The Regret Duet 1)
Her face got soft. “Oh, Caven.”
“Yeah. It was bad. I mean…it wasn’t bad. She was fine two seconds later, eating little puffs out of his hand. But I was not okay in any way, shape, or form. And most of that was because I felt like I’d failed her.”
She stared up at me with nearly hypnotizing understanding. So much so that I didn’t move a muscle when her hand slid over my chest, the smooth pads of her fingers curling around the back of my neck, where she used her thumb to trace the underside of my jaw. “Oh, Caven.”
Why did she keep saying my name?
Why did I fucking love hearing her, of all people, say my goddamn name like the vowels and consonants had been strung together for the sole purpose of rolling off her tongue?
I needed space.
I drew her impossibly closer.
“We’re not normal people, Hadley. We won’t ever have normal reactions to things like her busting her lip or cutting her finger. But we love her, and I’ve found that a very basic part of me will always ensure she’s safe. Even if that means not being the one to fix things for her.”
“What if I don’t have that part?”
“You do. Because four years ago, you handed her to me.”
She sucked in a deep breath, and just like that, the spell was broken. She blanched, and her arms fell away. It was the right thing to do—absolutely, one hundred percent, for both of us. We needed the distance to remember who the hell we were and, better yet, who the hell we weren’t. And that was two people standing in a bathroom, minutes away from doing something seriously stupid—and, more than likely, seriously incredible.
Hadley had always been gorgeous, and I knew I’d always feel a certain draw to her, knowing what we’d shared in the past.
But that wasn’t who Hadley and Caven would ever be in the future.
Regardless of how much my body objected when I released her.
“We should probably go check on her,” she whispered, backing away.
“Yeah.” I hooked a thumb over my shoulder. “I’ll give you a few minutes. Let me know if you need anything.”
I turned and pulled open the door.
“Hey, Caven?”
I didn’t have the strength to look at her again. “Yeah?” I replied, my gaze trained on the handle of the door.
“Thank you.” Her voice broke and the jagged edges of her gratitude raked across my skin.
I didn’t deserve it, but I could make damn sure she knew I would always be there.
Putting my chin to my shoulder, I caught her gaze. “Anytime, Hadley. If you ever need someone who can understand, I’ll be there. And not just about Rosalee.”
She nodded, her eyes sparkling with the most profound regret. “You too, okay? I’m here if you ever need to talk…or something.”
Or something. That was what I was scared of.
As I forced myself out of that bathroom, I definitely wanted to take her up on the or something.
Fuck. My. Life.CAVEN“Daddy, look!” Rosalee yelled when I reached the top of the stairs. She had her arms and legs stretched between the doorjambs, scaling to the top.
“Get down from there,” I rumbled, closing in on her.
“Did you know I could do this?”
I folded her over my shoulder and carried her into her bedroom. “I know you just busted your lip, and I’m hoping not to add a broken leg to tonight’s laundry list of injuries.”
She bounced on her twin bed when I gently tossed her onto it. “Did Hadley leave?”
“She did. She told me to tell you bye for her.”
“Why didn’t she tell me herself?”
Because she’d been crying and neither of us wanted to explain to you why. Oh, and there was also the tiny little fact that I hadn’t been able to keep my hands off her and nearly suffocated in the desire to kiss her in that damn bathroom. So, when the door opened, we both sprinted out of there in opposite directions like two feral cats. Ya know. The regular stuff.
I sat on the edge of her bed, knocking off approximately twelve stuffed animals in the process. “She…had an emergency and had to go.”
“What kind of emergency?”
“Art.”
“What kind of art?”
I pinched the bridge of my nose. My head was still a mess after my coulda, woulda, shoulda moment with Hadley. I was not prepared for an inquisition. “Paint.”
“What happened to her paint?”
“Her…cat knocked it over. It got all over her carpet and her alarm went off and she had to rush home to clean it before it dried. Fingers crossed everything works out.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Hadley doesn’t have a cat.”
I poked her belly. “You don’t know that.”
She squirmed, laughing. “Yes, I do. She’s allergic to them. So I’m never getting one on my farm. But she’s not allergic to llamas or emus, so I can have as many of those as I want.”
