Page 90 of All We Carry Home

Someone had hurt her, deeply.

“Never?”

She reluctantly met my gaze, her light blue eyes almost haunting in the dark. “Never.”

I shook myself from my stupor and swallowed back the surge of disappointment. It didn’t matter. Our futures were on two completely different paths.

“Why do you think Bill never got married?” I asked.

She sniffed and scrunched her shoulders upward. “He almost did. Marianna Clairmont. They dated throughout high school, but she died of influenza before graduation, and he never got over her.”

“He must have really loved her.”

“Yeah, I think he did. They planned a life together, and he proposed a few months before she passed.”

I couldn’t imagine the pain. The only version of marriage I had known had been quite the opposite. Marriages of convenience, of power. Of finding a proper match in status and industry. I’d rebelled against every attempt Mother threw at me to set me up with some heiress in high school, and signing up for the Army had been my path to freedom.

I hated that Eva now knew my family’s business by name. I only ever wanted to be Warren. Not even Captain Hayes. Senator Hayes would be a whole other title I didn’t want but knew was necessary.

She swayed ever so slightly, and I wrapped my arm around her. “We should get back. You need some rest.”

She closed her eyes and leaned her head against my shoulder. “This is the one time I won’t argue about that,” she mumbled.

“I’ve seen you stack two tons of hay bales in ninety-degree weather and never slow down,” I said. “And a banquet wears you out?”

“People are exhausting.”

I chuckled, stepped off the table, and reached for her hand to help her down. The distant sounds of vehicles in the streets beyond, the buzzing of bugs and rustling of trees—everything faded as she held my hand, stepped from the bench seat, and landed right against me, looking up at me.

Her eyes searched my face, her throat bobbed, and her lips opened as if to speak. Her red lipstick had faded away, leaving just the pink hue I adored. I couldn’t—shouldn’t—overstep when I knew all that lay in jeopardy.

If I kissed her, if I asked for us to be more than just business partners, would I risk it all? Was it better to be in her life as just her client than not be a part of her world in any way? She’d stated the terms so clearly. We were just trainer and owner.

Still. There was a longing in her eyes that I wasn’t imagining. It was laced with regret and such a deep, endless sadness.

“Eva,” I whispered, wanting so badly to know what had hurt her so—who had hurt her. I cupped her face, her skin cool against my warm hands. She closed her eyes and leaned into my touch, which nearly uncoiled all my resolve.

She put her hands over mine and trembled. I pulled her closer, one inch at a time, lowering my face to hers until our lips were nearly touching. Though I ached to erase those fractions of an inch that felt like a mile between us, I waited for her. For her to choose what she wanted, both in this moment and down the road for us.

I didn’t know how it could all work out, but as I looked upon her in the starlight, I couldn’t ignore the gravitational pull I felt for her.

“Warren,” she breathed. “I can’t.”

Disappointment jolted through me, though I treasured the momentary feel of her in my arms, tucked into my body. I stepped back, the separation as painful as any wound I’d ever experienced.

She crossed her arms and held my gaze with notched brows. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” My chest wanted to split in half. “Let’s get back to the hotel.” I worried that if we spoke any further, she’d say something I didn’t want to hear.

I wished I could unwind the damage I’d just done and restart the day, never treading so close to that boundary that couldn’t be uncrossed.

She was silent all the way back to the hotel until I bid her good night at her room door, just next to mine. She handed me back my coat, which smelled blissfully of her lavender soap.

“Thank you,” she said softly.

“For the coat?”

“For sticking up for me with Keith.” Her voice went raspy, strained. “No one other than Gramps has ever done that for me.”