Page 26 of The Maverick's Homecoming

When he remained quiet, she set down the old-fashioned soda bottle. “This can’t be good.”

“What do you mean?”

“You look… I don’t know, stricken, maybe? And you are never at a loss for words.”

He glared at her. Because right then, it seemed easier to get pissed off than to admit how damn nervous he was. “What is that?” he grumbled, pointing at her mouth. “You’re grinning. I can’t find the words and you think it’s funny.”

“Well, Finn, that’s because it kind of is.”

“Right. Twist the knife, why don’t you?”

She frowned and leaned closer across the oak table. “Are you actually angry at me right now?” Her voice had turned cautious.

He blew out a hard breath. “Oh, hell, no. I just don’t know where to start and I feel like a complete fool, so I’m being a jerk about it.”

There was a silence. Finally, she nodded. “Ah.”

“Ah, what?” he asked, and instantly regretted how impatient he sounded.

“Ah, I get it. And it’s okay. Take your time. I’m listening.”

He almost reached for her hand but thought better of it. This was a confession, not an excuse to cozy up to her. He coughed to clear the tightness from his throat and went for it. “Breaking up with you was the biggest mistake I’ve ever made.”

She sat back in her chair—probably to get some distance between them. Her expression gave him nothing. “The way I remember it,” she said in a painfully reasonable tone, “that day you dumped me you said right to my face that you didn’t love me anymore.”

He hesitated. Suddenly it seemed like a really bad idea to go digging through the ruins of the past. But he’d started this conversation. The least he could do now was give her the unvarnished truth. “Yeah. Well, when I said I didn’t love you…”

“What about it?”

“I lied.”

“Why?” The single word came out of her mouth on the faintest husk of sound.

“Because I didn’t know what to do.” He pushed away his empty plate, rested his forearms on the table and folded his hands together. “I thought a new start for both of us would be the best thing. But I couldn’t tell you I still loved you and then say I was leaving you anyway. I knew if I said I loved you that you would say it back. And then I wouldn’t be able to go.”

Her gaze was steady now, holding his. “Your dad,” she said flatly. Those two words said it all, but she elaborated, anyway. “He was riding you, pushing you, wasn’t he?”

“Kenzie, I—”

She put up a hand. “Never mind. We both know that he was. And I still have more to say.”

“Go on, then.”

They stared at each other some more. Finally, she continued, “Your dad had all those big dreams for you and he’d made no secret of how deeply he resented me for all the ways I was holding you back, keeping you from moving on and living up to your ‘true potential.’” She air-quoted the two words. “He just knew I was going to tie you down. And he must have been so relieved, must have seen my losing the baby as a way to finally get you to leave me behind.”

Reluctantly, he gave her the truth. “Yes. All of that is true.”

Her eyes were so sad right then. “But still. It wasn’t your dad who made the final decision.”

“You’re right, Kenz. I did. I wanted my big dream as much as my father did.”

“And yet you felt guilty about that, didn’t you?”

“Yeah.” He decided to lay it all out there. “I felt guilty because even though I still wanted you and I really had wanted our baby, I was also relieved that I wouldn’t have to try to be a dadanda husband while chasing that dream.”

“I get it,” she said. “I do. I remember how bad you wanted to play pro football, how you couldn’t wait to make it to the NFL, to be the starting quarterback for a top team. You used to talk about your dream of winning the Super Bowl, claiming the ring…”

He looked down at his tightly folded hands. “That’s right. I wanted it,allof it.”