Trust Fund Fiance - Naima Simone Page 0,61

own way of finding acceptance and love. You’ll have to face the truth that you’ve been lonely and alone out of choice, not cruel fate.”

Anger sparked inside him, flicking high and hot. As did fear. But he fanned the flames of his anger, smoking out that other, weaker emotion. He wasn’t afraid. She didn’t know him. Didn’t know all he’d suffered, lost. How could he not throw up shields around his heart? To protect himself from that kind of devastation? Even now, knowing he was letting her go, damn near pushing her out the door, had pain pumping through his veins instead of blood. But the thought of how much worse it would be if something happened to her...

No. Fuck it. Call him a coward. Selfish.

He couldn’t do it. Not again.

“Zeke.”

He dragged his gaze from the floor and returned it to her face.

The fury that saturated her features thawed, leaving behind a sadness that cut just as deep as her hurt. She sighed, shaking her head. “You are enough. You’re more than enough. But I can’t make you believe or accept it, so I’m leaving. Not because of some perceived stink of association with you. I’m leaving because the first time you ‘released’ me for my own good, I let you. Then I returned and begged you to marry me. I won’t do it again, and I won’t stay with a man who doesn’t want me enough to fight for me. For us. And I damn sure won’t beg him to let me stay.”

She strode forward and past him. He lifted an arm in a belated attempt to reach for her, to try to make her understand why he was a bad bet. Why he was putting her before his wants and needs. Because she was wrong—he did want her. Too much.

But either she didn’t see his hand or she didn’t want his touch, because she blew past him and headed toward the hall leading to their bedroom. He parted his lips to call after her, but then she stopped in the opening without turning around, her slim back straight, her shoulders drawn back.

“I didn’t need you to be my superhero. I am fully capable of saving myself. I needed you to be my friend, my lover, my husband. I needed you to love me more than your fear of opening your heart up again. Just like I love you more than my fear of being abandoned again. And for the record, you were—you are—worth the risk. But this time? I’m walking away. Because I’m worth the risk, too.”

Then she walked away. Just like she’d promised.

Sixteen

Reagan climbed the steps to her parents’ home and, twisting the knob, pushed the front door open. Since her mother was expecting her for lunch, there was no need to knock.

Standing in the quiet foyer, she surveyed it as if she hadn’t been there in years instead of weeks. Since that confrontation with her father, she hadn’t stepped foot in the home that had been hers since birth. The only reason she did so now was because of a phone call from her mother, asking her to please come over so they could talk. The I miss you at the end had sealed Reagan’s fate. It was difficult to tell Henrietta Sinclair no on the best of terms. But when she tacked on the emotional warfare? Impossible.

The familiar scent of lemon and roses enveloped her, as comforting as a hug. Funny to think there’d been a time when she’d hated the scent of roses. But now? Now she missed it as much as she missed her family.

Especially now, when she didn’t have anyone.

Well, that wasn’t exactly true. She had Harley, who was graciously letting her stay with her and Grant until her new apartment came available next week. She had Beth and Gracie, who had been so saddened when she’d told them a week ago about the breakup with Zeke. But had quickly assured her she was still family to them.

And of course, and most important, she had herself.

That night with Ezekiel had been a revelation of sorts. A revelation that though her past might have shaped the woman she’d become, she was not the sum of her mistakes. Just as she’d told Zeke, she didn’t need saving; she wasn’t some damsel in distress. And her dream of a girls’ home here in Royal wouldn’t crumble to dust just because her father held her inheritance hostage. Her dream hadn’t been birthed by either her father