Fools For Love by L.B. Dunbar

Author:L.B. Dunbar [Dunbar, L.B.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: L.B. Dunbar Writes Ltd.
Published: 2024-04-21T18:30:00+00:00

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[Chance]

Sitting cross-legged, with her head bowed, she appears deep in prayer . . . over a tombstone.

This wasn’t what she came for.

Silently, I watch her for several minutes before clearing my throat, announcing my presence. She doesn’t look up and I read the etched stone from behind her.

Birth. Death.

“He seemed a bit old for you.” The thought tumbles out of my mouth before I can bite my tongue.

“Fuck off, Chance,” She chokes out before wiping at her cheeks.

Slowly, the math of the dates calculates. He wasn’t a man she intended to replace her former fiancé. He was roughly her father’s age although she hasn’t mentioned her dad.

“Christ, Kaylie, I thought—”

“What?” she snaps. “You thought what?”

“I thought you were meeting a man to marry.”

“What?” she yells. Even though we were alone on a hill, her voice carries.

“I thought you were here to meet the perfect man,” I emphasize. “One who would love you unconditionally. One you’d been waiting for your entire life. I just assumed—”

“Yeah, well, you and your assumptions. You’re an ass.”

She isn’t wrong.

Uncrossing her legs, she struggles to stand, and I lunge forward to help her. Only she brushes me off.

When she swipes at her backside, I refuse to look. The moment isn’t right for checking out one of her best assets. Instead, my heart aches for her loss. I miss my da every day.

Caught between fear she’ll shatter if she tries to speak and fear she’ll unravel if she doesn’t let out her thoughts, I risk a question. “Was he your dad?”

Her silence answers me.

“Did you not know?”

“No, I did not know my father.” Her tone is rightfully terse. “And he’s dead.”

She crumbles with the quiet admission. Her voice cracks. Her hands fly upward to cover her face. “Oh God. He died before I could meet him.”

Without a second thought, I pull her to me. She resists me at first, but I only hold tighter. I am not letting her push me away. Eventually, her hands come up to my sides, gripping my Henley in her fists, and she relaxes against me. I rub her back and kiss her head.

We stand for only a few minutes entwined together, before thoughts catch up to her, and she pulls back.

“Not yet,” I whisper, tightening my hold in relief her man wasn’t a romantic interest. In sorrow that she never met the man who was her father.

“How could she do this to me?” she says, eventually pushing off me but keeping her gaze lowered. “She had to have known. She’s probably known all these years, and yet . . .” Kaylie chokes. “She lied to me.”

When she looks up at me, her sad, frightened eyes crush me. The hurt. The disappointment. The pain readable across the freckles that grace her nose. I don’t know why I hadn’t noticed them before. The hint of her Irish heritage is written on her face.

“You need to ask her.” If you don’t ask questions, you’ll live with lies to make yourself feel better.

“Ask her what?” Kaylie barks.

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