Fragile Hearts (Poplar Falls #4) - Amber Kelly Page 0,76

lesson from what you’d lost—that life is precious. The moments you have are all you get, and you should live those to the fullest every single day.

“But you are wasting your second chance. You want to squander it all away, feeling sorry for yourself? Well, be my guest. But let’s be clear about something: it’s a choice.

“I told myself that you had a fragile heart, which had been shattered, and that getting close to you was a bad idea, but it turns out, I’m the one with the fragile heart, and you’re just a coward. If you’re going to let the rest of your life be filled with a whole lot of nothing so you never have the chance of experiencing pain again, then you might as well have died that day too. You’re going to have nothing but an empty life in a big, lonely house. I bet your Annie would agree with me when I say, that’s a waste. Good-bye, Brandt.”

She drops her bomb and goes out the door without another backward glance.

I thought I was going to be the one gutting her.

But I felt every single word she said hit my skin like the sear of a hot branding iron.

Brandt

“That’s the last one, man,” Walker says as he carries the last gallon of paint from the back of the truck. “Where do you want to start? Front or back?”

I stand there, looking up at the house I thought I liked two days ago.

“What are we looking at?” he asks as he follows my line of sight.

“An empty life in a big, lonely house,” I repeat her words.

“What?” He turns to me.

“Thanks for your help, Walker, but you don’t have to stick around. I don’t think I’ll be very good company today.”

“Is this about Bells taking off?” he asks.

“Yes. No. I didn’t know she had left already.”

Damn, that was fast.

“Elle took her to the airport last night,” he informs.

I nod as I continue to look up at the house. I have no idea what I was thinking, buying it. Maybe I wasn’t thinking; I was just hoping.

“She thought this was a dream house,” I tell him.

“A dream house, huh? Well, I don’t know much, but the one thing I do know is a dream house isn’t built with wood, stone or the perfect slab of granite. No, it’s created when every corner, crack and crevice is filled with love and laughter. It’s built by the memories made by the people within it. This here is just a shell. It’s up to you to make it a dream come true.”

“I don’t think I’m capable,” I admit.

“You know, I never intended to do anything with my life but sit in that little shack and drink myself to death. I thought the worst thing that could happen to a man was a broken heart, and I wasn’t about to put mine out there to get trampled on ever again. I was wrong though. The worst thing that can happen to a man is to waste his life in a house, drinking himself to death, having a heart and never using it, just letting all the love he has to give someone wither up. Life is for living. Hard work, good friends, delicious food, cold beer. And a good woman by your side, warming your bed, loving you with all of her body and soul, giving you babies, and giving you shit to keep you on your toes. I know it can be scary—the thought of having it and losing it. Especially for you because you know what that feels like better than anyone. But if you never go for it and you let it walk right out of your door and into some other asshole’s happily ever after, then you’ll lose it anyway,” he says as he clasps my shoulder.

“I don’t want to hold her back,” I tell him.

“Hold her back? Man, we can’t hold these women back. They will plow toward their happiness and grab you by the collar and drag you with them. Now, if we ain’t doing this today, then I’m going to go scoop my happiness up and take her horseback riding,” he says.

“Sounds like fun.”

“She loves to ride, and I love to watch her laugh as she does.”

He releases his hold on me and heads to his truck.

“Hey, Doc,” he calls to me, and I turn.

“My granddaddy used to tell me that there’s a battle raging inside every man. Two wolves. One is called regret and