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The real problem was that I was in love with Jackson Ford Myles. I had been for years. Boys like Jackson chased after the girl next door types while I just pined silently after my best friend. While it fucking hurt sometimes, I’d come to accept that this was my reality.
There was no denying that Dakota West McNamara had broken my heart.
She should’ve stuck with that. Instead, she picked the one guy with a broken dick. It hadn’t worked in years, and that wasn’t changing. Not for her. Not for anyone.
Shadows pressed in on my vision. I was a livewire, violently charged with no direction.
“No, y’all decided to bury your fucking heads in the sand, and for what?” I gestured around me. “For some fucking land? For fucking cows? You failed him—all of you—when you decided his worth wasn’t more than this stupid fucking business. Than a stupid fucking job!” “Now, it ain’t like that—” “It is like that!” I interrupted. How could none of them understand that? I was sure my dad probably thought the same shit. That keeping West busy here and there was enough. It wasn’t. “I would’ve burned the whole fucking place to the ground before I let him run away afraid for his life.”
All my anger and hatred was tied to a broken fucking heart.
“PTSD is a bitch of a thing. It shreds apart all the things you knew about yourself and then keeps on taking from things you never thought it could touch.”
“I’d rather go through hell with you, West, than watch it destroy you.”
In the end, the voices won. “I’m not worth it,” I whispered breathlessly against his mouth. “You just let me keep believing that for the both of us,”
through my body. Good? Bad? I couldn’t tell. I was a fucking livewire—a bomb ready to detonate. Every touch did wildly unpredictable things to my body. Things I hadn’t known possible.
“I told you I’m not fucking worth it.” “I’ll keep believing you are for the both of us.”
“Don’t…” he began quietly, “don’t… don’t give me the power to break your heart. I’m not fucking worth that.” This man. This fucking man. He just didn’t get it, did he? “It’s too late for that,” I whispered. Taking his face in my hands, I kissed him once. Twice. Three times. Each kiss lingered longer than the last. “I loved you back then just like I love you now.”
Inhale… Exhale… Thump… thump thump… thump… Inhale… Exhale… Thump thump… thump… thump thump… My heart galloped wildly in my chest as I attempted to breathe.
“You’re my priority, baby, above anything else.”
“No, I do,” he insisted and took one more step toward me. “I love you, Jackson. I loved you growing up, I loved you long after I left, and I still love you. I’ll always love you.”
