Lilly

Three days later, Jackson paced in front of me. We’d been sleeping together every night, spending blissful hours in one another’s arms, and it was as if I’d found heaven. But at the same time, we were both blindingly aware that our time together was running short. His job prospects in Hawaii were looking more and more like a reality. And my marriage, as much as I might not want to admit it, looked more and more real, too.

Earlier today, I’d spoken to my father about opening up shares instead of the merger, and you’d think I suggested we sell it to the devil himself. Derek’s father had reacted the same. So, try as I might, it looked as though I either had to turn my back on those people who depended on me to save them…

Or I had to marry Derek Thornton III.

I wasn’t going to be so dramatic as to say I didn’t have a choice. I did. I could totally walk away from it all and let Daddy find a way to save the company on his own. But those people…his employees. They would be the ones who would suffer if he failed.

And I wasn’t sure I could live with that.

“What do you mean, you don’t know?” Jackson asked, ripping me out of my thoughts and back into reality. His fists were tight at his sides. His phone rang on the table, but neither of us glanced at it. “How did he find out?”

I winced and rubbed my forehead. “Daddy said—”

“Daddy can kiss my ass,” Jackson growled.

“Jackson,” I snapped, cheeks hot. “Seriously. Calm down.”

He paced in front of me, a nervous energy vibrating off every move he made. “Tell me exactly what he said.”

“I was trying to,” I pointed out. “But you cut me off.”

He glowered at me but didn’t say anything.

“Anyway, he told your mom that he heard you’d been injured overseas. A buddy of a buddy told him, and he thought maybe you might not have told her about it.” I gripped my knees. “At which point, she started calling you incessantly.”

The phone rang again, as if on cue. He dragged a hand through his hair. “I hadn’t noticed.”

I lifted a shoulder.

“What did you say back to him? You didn’t tell him anything, did you?”

“No. I said I hadn’t heard anything, and why would I?” I stood up. “It’s not as if you spoke to me, or even liked me.”

He stopped pacing at that. “You said that?”

“Yeah. It’s true, isn’t it?” I tucked my hair behind my ears. “Or, it was, anyway.”

Crossing the room, he stopped directly in front of me. “He won’t buy that. He obviously knows I liked you enough to kiss you all those years ago.”

“Yeah, but he was the one who told me it was all a ruse. A trick, to get your way. That you used me.” I turned away from him. “And he also knew that you never wrote me back, no matter how many letters I sent. He never failed to point that out to me at any given time.”

“But he’s the one who told you to write them in the first place.”

I bit down on my tongue, carefully forming my words. “I wrote to you even though I knew you wouldn’t write back. And I did it because I wanted you to know when you came home, someone was rooting for you. That someone cared. I’d hoped it would make it easier for you to come home and face our parents. And…and…maybe it’s time for that. For you to go home.”

Something in his gaze softened, but instead of reaching out for me, he backed up a step, shaking his head. Every time this topic came up, he shut me out. It was infuriating, “No. I’m not ready.”

“What, exactly, do you think they’re going to do to you?” I snapped. “Shoot you on sight? Run you through with a bayonet? I mean, really.”

“It’s my choice to make,” he growled. “And I’ll make it when I’m damn good and ready.”

“Well, then, make it. Go over there. Tell them you’re home.”

He laughed. “So he can try to form me into something I’m not again? Hell, no. I’d rather choke on nails and die in enemy territory.”

I rolled my eyes. I couldn’t help it. “He’s not the boss of you. You can go in there, refuse to do what he wants, and it’ll be fine. Just stand up for yourself.”

“Wow. That’s rich, coming from you.”

I stiffened. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know exactly what it means,” he snarled. “You’re thinking about marrying some asshole Daddy picked out for you, even though you don’t want to, but you dare to lecture me on fighting for my rights?”

“That’s not the same thing,” I snapped, my cheeks going hot all over again. “I have people counting on me. People who depend on me to ensure they don’t lose their livelihoods. For their futures. People who feel—”

“What about me?” he asked, his voice hollow. “What about what I want? What about my feelings, and my future?”

My heart picked up speed, and it was as if a whirlpool formed in my head, blocking out all thoughts and sounds except for him. The way he said that, all raw and open, made me wonder if he wanted more out of what we had. More than what I already gave him. If it came to choosing between Jackson and all the people counting on me…

God, I wouldn’t know what to choose.

Too many lives were at stake to take my responsibility lightly.

“Jackson…”

He let out a laugh. “Don’t. Don’t patronize me.”

“It’s not that I don’t care about you,” I said quickly, reaching out to grab his hand. “It’s that I know what I have to do, and if there’s no other way out, I’ll do it.”

“Have you found another way out yet?” he asked, his voice tight.

I shook my head.

“Do you think you will?”

Closing my eyes, I hesitated. Because the answer was damning, and I didn’t want to give it. But his question, and his own honesty, demanded I give him the same in return.

“Yeah. That’s what I thought.” Grabbing his keys, he shook off my hold and headed for the door. “I need some time to myself. Don’t wait up for me.”

“Where are you going?” I asked, following him, my chest filled with an achy hollowness that wouldn’t go away.

“Away. I need to think about—” He opened the door and turned back to me. His expression was hauntingly empty. “About everything.”

And he slammed the door.

I covered my face with my hands and sat down, determined to finish this conversation. To make him understand that no matter how much I might like him, and enjoy spending time with him, the needs of the many outweighed the needs of the one.

And if I said it enough times, I might actually begin to believe it.

—

Six hours.

Six hours and thirty-two minutes, to be exact.

That was how long I had been sitting there, waiting for Jackson to come home. I didn’t know what was going on inside his head, or why he felt the need to run from an argument with me, but the longer I sat there, staring out the window every three seconds, the more angry I got. We were in the middle of an argument, and instead of staying here so we could sort it out…

He left me.

It was what he did. Left.

And he would keep doing it. I knew he would. He’d warned me about Hawaii. I knew he couldn’t wait to get out of here. To start fresh again. I couldn’t blame him. If I could run with a clean conscience, I would, too. I understood his need to run, his need to be his own man. But that was because I knew him, and I cared about him.

If he needed to leave to be happy, then he should go.

That was who he was.

But if he couldn’t understand why I had to marry Derek, or why I couldn’t stand to let all those people down, then he didn’t know me at all. Didn’t know who I was.

I glowered down at my phone, tapping my finger on the back of it impatiently. I’d left him a voicemail at the three-hour mark and texted him a handful of times, but no answer. Had he decided to go to Hawaii already? Board a plane and hope he had a job when he got there? Head for his new life, in a new town, with new people?