Crowds gathered around someone who was balancing a bowling ball on their nose, a challenging feat for sure, when I spotted a wave of perfectly golden hair flying in the wind.

My Little One.

Even though it’s only been a few short weeks since I’ve seen her, it still felt like it’s been months. I missed everything about her. The way she smiled at me through her eyelashes and the little stolen moments where she glanced in my direction to convey how much she really wanted me. I missed her sweet touches, the way my name sounded rolling off her tongue, and the sassy mouth she never seemed to know how to turn off. Fuck, I needed her in my life, desperately.

Taking a deep breath, I stepped forward and started making my way toward her. Like I thought, she was once again selling her beautiful art in Jackson Square. I took in the chalk-covered canvases that hung on the wrought iron fence that surrounded the square. They were impeccable, like always, but seemed almost darker, not as whimsical as I was used to her art being. I wondered if I did that to her, if the edge that was in her art now was because of me.

There was only one way to find out.

Her back was to me, so she didn’t see me approaching, giving me more of an opportunity to take her in. Her hair flowed out from under a sun hat and her shoulders were exposed from a red and white tank top she was wearing. Her legs sprouted out from a pair of short denim shorts and a white pair of Keds graced her perfect little feet.

My hand grazed my jaw as I took in everything about her. How could I have been such a damn fool to give up something so good?

Not wanting to wait any longer, I made the rest of my way toward her, just as a bulky man with blond hair sidled up next to her in a spare lawn chair and handed her a drink, while kissing her on the cheek at the same time.

I froze in my tracks at the display of affection from another man. Sweat started to creep down my back as rage boiled inside of me. Did she really find someone else that easily? Was I that forgettable?

I tried to convince myself I wasn’t, but then again, I hurt her, I was the one who drove her away. If she found someone else, maybe she was really trying to move on from the hell I put her through.

Looking back at our relationship, I’m now realizing there weren’t many moments where we weren’t struggling against something trying to hold us back. There was always something between us; it had never been an easy relationship for us. If it wasn’t my insane stupidity of stubbornness, it was my dad.

Instead of going up to her, I stood back and observed her interaction with the new man. She laughed easily with him as they pointed at something in the far distance, probably where the man just came from. Goldie took a sip of the drink she held in her hand, and then handed it over to the stranger. With disgust, I watched him wrap his lips around the same straw Goldie used and take a drink.

The urge to punch my hand through a wall overcame me as I continued to twitch with anger at what was unfolding right in front of me. She was with someone else. It was obvious from the affectionate looks they were giving each other, the shared drink they were sipping from, and the easygoing camaraderie they shared.

Turning around, I ran my hand through my hair and tried to figure out what I should do. I couldn’t possibly go up to Goldie now and talk to her about my plans, about what I wanted for our future, not in front of Mr. No Neck.

Fuck.

Looking over my shoulder, I eyed them once more, seeing how easily they talked, how the air between them seemed so relaxed, without worry. I hated it, I hated him.

What the hell was I supposed to do? I wasn’t expecting another man to be in the picture, to rip my heart out in one smooth movement in front of the tourist mecca of New Orleans.

A sharp pain radiated through my chest as I tried to catch my breath. It couldn’t end like this, could it? Was life really this unfair? I didn’t believe in happily ever afters, since I’ve never once seen one in my life, but I did believe in luck, and Goldie landing in my hands, in my club, in my life, that was pure luck, making me the luckiest bastard in the world.

That was until I blew it all with my stubborn pride.

That was the bane of my existence, my pride. It ate me up and turned me into a man I hated, a man who didn’t take chances because he was too damn scared to venture out of the protective shell he made for himself.

I didn’t want to be that man anymore. I didn’t want to sit around, trying to protect my heart so I never got hurt again. No, I wanted to make a change in my life. I wanted to be fucking happy, for once in my life. I wanted to know what it felt like to have a woman, the woman of my dreams, wake up next to me every morning. I needed this girl; she was the key to my happiness, and hell if I was going to let my pride get in the way once more.

Taking a deep breath, I turned back around and faced Goldie and the mystery man. Making sure my shirt wasn’t askew, I ran my hands down it and adjusted my belt, making sure it was facing forward. Feeling put together, I walked up to Goldie with my mind set on one thing and one thing only, getting her back.

“Hello, Goldie,” I spoke with sincerity. Slowly, I took off my sunglasses and looked down at the shocked look on that gorgeous face of hers.

Her legs that were once propped up on the fence flew to the ground as she sat up and adjusted the hat on the top of her head.

Clearing her throat and scanning me up and down, she said, “Um, Jett. Hi.”

Her voice was sweet, but confused; it was so damn adorable, I just wanted to grab her by the waist and take her against the damn fence.

“Your artwork is extraordinary, as usual,” I complimented.

“Thank you,” she said, while looking down at her exposed thighs. Thighs I wanted to spread as wide as they would fucking go so I could bury myself deep inside of her, the only place I’ve ever felt completely at peace.

This was going to be harder than I thought.

“Who’s your friend?” I asked, while nodding at the man who started sizing me up the moment I walked up to Goldie.

Once I addressed him, he took off his sunglasses, and that was when I recognized him.

Blane Wilson.

Blane went to school with Kace and me at one point. He was a good man, but had gotten in some deep shit.

Why the hell was he hanging out with Goldie?

“Blane?” I asked.

“Jett Colby,” he stood up and put out his hand. “Damn, you look good, man. Never thought I would see you grow into those lanky tennis arms of yours.”

“I see you’re still using the steroids,” I joked. Blane was always more developed than anyone we knew. The man was a walking piece of muscle.

Blane nodded his head and smiled, while sizing me up once again. “What can we do you for?”

We? Were they really a we? I glanced over at Goldie, who had her head down, avoiding all eye contact with me. My heart sank at the thought of Goldie moving on. How did I address her now, with Blane at her side, clearly in protection mode? I could hold my own when it came to a fight, easily, thanks to Kace’s training, but I couldn’t make up for the thirty pounds of muscle Blane had over me.

Trying not to look fazed, I squatted down next to Goldie and lifted her chin slightly, so she had to look me in the eyes. I ignored the glare that was coming from Blane and spoke softly.

“Goldie, can I please talk to you, in private?”

“What you say to her can be said in front of me, Jett,” Blane warned, all friendliness escaping his voice.

Taking a deep breath, I straightened, and looked Blane in the eyes.

“Blane, I think you’re a good man who’s made some poor decisions. I can see you’re trying to make a better life for yourself, so I would avoid another bad decision…like standing in my way of Goldie, and move on.”