Page 160 of The Lonely Road

She’s all but ready to crumble at those words. I can feel her ache. I can feel her grief. I hate that I’m the cause of it. I have never loved a woman in my life—but I love her, and I hurt her. The weight of my crimes is devastating me.

She opens her door and steps into her home, then she turns to glance over her shoulder at me—still holding the legal pad, still in her reading glasses, utterly and completely herself, which is somehow the most devastating thing about this entire situation.

“I loved Griffin, too.”

She says that to wound me. She succeeds. “Don’t compare me to that asshole.”

She rolls her eyes. “You’re the bigger asshole, Mason.”

“No. I’m not. I’m the man who’s here. I’m the man who’s showing up. And I’m going to keep showing up for the rest of your life.” I suck in a breath and let it out in frustration. “Taya, let me make this right.”

“I don’t need you to make anything right. I don’t need you, period.”

Like hell she doesn’t need me. But I keep that to myself. My balls are still bruised, and I don’t want to poke the bear, as the saying goes.

“Let’s talk about what actually matters to me.” She arches an eyebrow. “This case of yours with Kaz—does it hold? And if it does…and if Jessup falls—how is my case impacted?”

Fuck, but she’s not going to make this easy.

You don’t deserve easy, Brooks.

“Yes, it’ll hold. Kaz has been building it for fourteen months, and I have documentation from inside the operation.” The pain between my legs is receding, and I can now speak in full sentences without wincing. “And, yes, when Jessup falls, I make sure High Mesa knows they’re next. When politicians get canceled, their friends become scarce real fast.”

She nods, studies me with something that is less than disgust. I decide it’s progress.

“And Trafton.”

“Being located. My investigator has a twenty-four-hour window. When he surfaces, Hugh will know.”

“Anything else you’ve been hiding?”

I shake my head.

“Okay then, you can go now. And stay away from Clara.”

“Okay.”

“I mean it, Mason.”

“I know you do.”

She assesses me for one more moment. “Can you stand up?”

“Give me a minute.”

She shrugs and goes inside.

The door closes.

I stay on one knee, my hand on the railing, the creek running behind the house, the mountains going dark in the west.

I know this isn’t the end of the conversation. It’s not even the beginning.

But it’s the first honest thing that’s happened between us since the night she said I love you in her grandmother’s kitchen—and I said it was a bad idea, meaning the exact opposite.

I’m a fucking idiot.

I had her, and I let her go, and now…I have no idea if I can find my way back to her; I don’t know if she’ll let me.