Page 21 of Paper Horses

Swallowing, the urge to fold her into my arms like I used to flared up. To hold her tight and tell her I wouldn’t let anything in while I had her. That had been my promise to her, the only thing I could do since she kept me from it.

“I never loved her,” I found myself saying, not knowing why I had the need to explain myself when Olivia had been the one to end our relationship. But that didn’t stop me, especially when those hazel eyes lightened like I’d lifted the weight of the world from them.

“Did you love anyone?” she asked in a whisper that dug at the fortified buttresses of my heart.

“Did you?”

Her lips parted, and my gaze fell to them, remembering how lush they were, how soft and sensuous.

“The two-egg special for both of you,” Jessie said, placing the plates in front of us and destroying the moment.

Olivia pressed her lips together as she studied the food.

“Thanks, Jessie.”

She gave me a wink and left me with a pouting princess who reminded me not to let my guard down again.

“What is this?” she hissed.

I stabbed at my sausage patty, not bothering to cut it, and brought it to my mouth, enjoying her horrified look.

“It’s breakfast for lunch,” I said, between chews. I’d told her what I’d ordered, but she still looked like I’d thrown a dead animal in front of her and told her to eat it.

“It’s a fat-laden, cholesterol swamp.”

I snorted and took another bite.

“And who orders breakfast for lunch?” It was like she was just digesting the words I’d told her earlier when I’d named off the contents of our meal.

“Me. Now eat your food like a good girl.” Shit, there I went again. Her eyes widened as a shudder went through her, and I almost dropped my fork and reached over to kiss her. That shudder was seductive, reminding me of how my words alone had broken her.

I needed to stop because she’d only been here a few hours, and I was already slipping. Being with her again sent my defenses crumbling too easily. She looked down, picked her fork up, and pushed the food around, averting my eyes.

“Eat,” I repeated, taking another bite of my sausage.

“Are you sure they don’t have anything else? Maybe a smoothie…”

I glowered at her, stopping her words. She looked as if she never ate. Thinner than she had been, still beautiful, but it left her features sharper.

“Do you eat at all?” I asked between chews.

“Of course I do.”

“Coffee and what? Crackers?”

“Too many carbs,” she said absently as she studied the butter dripping from the egg when she held it up. “Do you eat anything healthy? How is it you haven’t had a heart attack with all this grease?”

“Because you destroyed it years ago.”

She dropped the egg, her eyes flying to mine, and I suddenly regretted my words. Words that had come quickly, sharpened with edge and anger from fifteen years of regret and pain that haunted me.

“Is there a bathroom?” she asked, her eyes so wounded it was almost as if they reflected my own scars.

I cleared my throat. “I didn’t mean⁠—”

“Bathroom, Hudson.”

With a sigh, I nodded behind her. She was up and hurrying from the booth without a word. I sat back, rubbing my stubble with my hand.