Eloise pauses and her hand twists the bracelet on her wrist. She’s close enough that the subtle hint of mountain air and wildflowers, mingled with the scent of her, hits me. Her mouth opens, she closes it without speaking, then continues to twist and twist the damn bracelet. Every time I see it, I’m drawn back to that night, I broke us apart, and the regret sits heavy on me.
I take her hand in mine, her skin soft unlike the roughness of my hands. Eloise stops, her breath catching with the contact. I remove her hand so I can bring her wrist closer to read the inscription on her bracelet.
You own all my heartbeats.
This woman owns every beat of my heart. Always will.
“You still wear it?” My thumb travels along the gold metal, never touching her skin, yet the goosebumps erupt across her golden skin—the skin, minus the California tan, I spent many of my heartbeats memorizing.
“I’ve never taken it off,” she admits with no softness or waver in her voice. “It reminds me that I own every beat of my heart now. When I wanted them to stop, because it hurt too much and I lost my way, I looked at it and remembered. I own all my heartbeats now.”
I have no right to touch this woman, but with her confession—when I wanted them to stop—I have my hands resting on her cheeks, and I’m tilting her head back so I can study her. My hands shake, but I hold her securely while telling her. “I’m sorry.” It’s not enough.
Her hands hold my forearms, her green eyes watch me with a steady and unwavering sureness. “It’s okay, because when you broke my heart, I realized I had given you all of myself, and I’ll never make that mistake again.”
“Good.” In my youth, my seventeen-year-old self swore, I was doing the right thing. I had baggage, burdens—weight I didn’t want to share with anyone. She was my good, my happiness—a lightness that I hadn’t deserved. She had dreams to follow. I didn’t deserve her. Like she said, she’ll never make that mistake again.
“I found out the most important person for my heart to beat for is me.”
Chapter Seven
Eloise
I’m certain I’ve stopped breathing, and it’s because of the regret and pain I see swarming in his eyes. I’ve admitted something to Maverick I’ve never shared with another. When I thought no one loved me, how I loved them, it gutted my younger self. It made my chest hurt so bad the only thing I knew to make it stop was to stop breathing altogether. To stop my heart from beating.
How else could I make the pain stop?
I had EmmaJean, my best friend, to pull me out of the darkness. And in her confidence, her belief that the only person who needed to love her was herself, was where I found my strength.
“I’m sorry.” He drops his hands from my face, pulling them away from my grasp. I miss his warmth already, but the space gives me a moment to breathe. Before I can blink, though, he’s spinning on the heel of his boot and storming from the house.
“Maverick,” I whisper-yell his name, not that it slows down his escape. I try to get my feet moving, and when I do, he’s already in his truck and driving away.
My admission had torn something apart inside of him. I didn’t hate him for what happened. I was serious about my resulting heartbreak shaping the woman I became. Maverick strengthened me, but I first had to be broken down. Only then did I find my strength to be built back up stronger.
“Hey, you mind helping me with something?” Mallory’s gentle voice asks from behind me.
I give one final look at the settling dust of the gravel driveway and turn her way. “What can I do?”
“I have something I’m working on, and I wondered if you would mind helping me finish it up?”
After spending the afternoon helping Mallory with a surprise for Dad, I ask her for Maverick’s address. I still didn’t like the way we left each other this morning, and I can’t take it any longer. With the small population in Kalispell, it doesn’t take me long to find his home and to park the truck on the side of the road, thankful that Mallory let me borrow it. She hadn’t asked me questions when I requested his address and a vehicle to borrow.
I’m not sure what’s going on with us. The last five years of my life was putting this man and everything that happened between us that summer, out of my mind. To keep the new pieces of my heart strong, I had to, but the way he looked at me with such pain and regret today overpowers my resolve. I want to know his reasons for breaking my heart all those years ago.
Maverick’s house is a small ranch style home in the heart of Kalispell. I take the small path up his yard and knock on the front door. When I glance to the right, his truck is in the driveway. It’s nearing dinnertime, and I’m worried I’ve made the wrong decision coming here.
The front door swings open, and a tall brunette is standing there. She’s dressed in a pair of worn jeans and a t-shirt. Her shoes are well-loved and comfortable. Her hair is tied up in a messy pile, and her face is free of makeup. She’s young and cute, and tugs on a distant memory. I know her.
“Hello,” she says, and her voice finally triggers the memory.
“Betsy?” She’s changed so much in the five years since I’ve seen her. “Wow, you’ve gotten big. Is your brother around?” I glance inside, my gaze sweeping around the living room behind her.
She steps back and allows me to enter then yells over her shoulder, “Mavie, your ex-girlfriend is here.”
I cringe. “Thank you,” I say as I take in the living space while she walks away. There are blankets, books, and shoes strewn about. It’s a strange blend of teenage girl with the purple and fuzzy items but bachelor with the sparse and simple furniture.
“What the hell?” Maverick asks as he steps into the living room with a basket of laundry under his arm. His eyes widen in shock when he sees me. “Eloise.” He says my name—a mixture of emotions tangled together in the one word—pain, regret, awe, surprise.
“I hope you don’t mind me stopping by. I wanted to talk to you about what happened today,” I say softly.
He shakes his head and takes a moment to come into the living room and set the basket down. I glance to my left when Betsy, backing out of the room with wide eyes, catches in my peripheral. The tension in the room is enough to have her retreating.
“Yeah, it’s fine. Come in.” He takes the big purple blanket and lays it aside. “Shit,” he says, moving more of the textbooks from the table and picking up some stray papers. “I’m sorry, it’s a mess.”
I rest my hand on his forearm to pause him from moving a cup half full of water. “It’s fine. Stop and sit with me, please?”
He nods, lets out a deep breath, and sinks into the couch. I perch myself on the end beside him and rest my palms on my knees. I hook my ankle behind the other, then shift my hair over my left shoulder. Nope, I flip it back, so it rests down my back again. I twist my bracelet around my wrist. Where do I start?
“I’m not sure which of us is more out of our element right now.” Maverick’s rich baritone has me turning his way. He runs his hands over his face along the stubble that covers his jaw then takes his hat off, tossing it on the coffee table.