Holden had destroyed his life. What he hadn’t known at the time was the repercussions would be lasting and devastating. He’d hurt Leigh-Leigh, but worse, he’d unknowingly turned his back on his child.
I’m that asshole.
The door to his Airstream creaked open and he didn’t bother lifting his head when he roared, “Out!”
There was no response but Holden didn’t need there to be. The air around him charged and crackled with unhappiness.
“I’m not leaving.”
“I thought you were Chasin,” Holden explained but still didn’t get up. Didn’t even glance in Charleigh’s direction as she walked through his small space.
“He’s worried about you.”
“Is that why you came over here, to tell me that Chasin’s outside pacing, waiting for me to start tearing things apart?” Holden paused and blew out a breath. “Sorry, that was a dick thing to say.”
“Actually, I think he’s out there to make sure you don’t run.”
That made Holden sit upright.
“I’m not—”
“I know,” she sighed.
His heart skipped a beat when he saw her red-rimmed eyes and blotchy face.
Fuck.
They stared at each other for a good long while. There was so much to say, but Holden couldn’t find the words. He felt his mouth get tight and tighter still as realized in the space of a few hours, he’d been given everything only to have it taken away.
How could he ask Charleigh to forgive him yet again? For another monumental fuck-up. His first offense was bad enough—leaving her had scarred her. Leaving her and their unborn child—unforgivable.
“How are you?” she whispered.
“Me?”
Everything about Charleigh relaxed seeing that Holden tensed. He was about to ask her if she was shitting him asking him how he was.
He was wrecked.
Totally and completely disgusted with himself.
Eight years and some months ago, he had everything he ever wanted within his grasp. Every. Last. Thing. It had been right in front of him and he’d turned it away.
“Never mind, I know how you are.”
Doubtful. She hadn’t missed out on her child being brought into this world. She hadn’t denied she made a child.
“Leigh-Leigh, I think—”
“No, Holden. I gave you time to get yourself together. Now we need to talk.”
He swung his legs over the side of his bed and clenched his jaw until he managed to wrangle his temper.
“Think I need a little more time to get myself together.”
“And you’ll do that with me here.”
God, he wanted that so badly. Selfishly he wanted her by his side, and in return, he’d be by hers. Together, they could face the betrayal. Together, they could do anything. But it was ridiculous to believe Charleigh would stay. And he didn’t blame her.
“Charleigh—”
“My parents knew,” she blurted out. “I don’t know how it went down, but my parents started giving Beatrice money shortly after Paul died. When I called to tell my father that Faith and I were dead to them and if they tried to contact us or you, I would ruin them, I didn’t think to ask. Not that it matters whose idea it was. I don’t care if Bea was blackmailing them, or my father decided the best thing to do was to throw money at the bitch to keep her quiet rather than telling his daughter that the man she loved was his granddaughter’s father. No, not him, their reputation was more important than our daughter. Bottom line is, they’ve known all these years. You need to know that. Yes, Paul started the lie but my parents perpetuated it. I believe that Beatrice would’ve been all too happy to show me that letter after her son died if my parents hadn’t paid her off.”
He felt his body go numb. That was good; numb was better than the overwhelming urge to strangle her parents. The Axelsons had hated him from the very moment Charleigh had introduced them and they didn’t hide their disdain. Holden would never be good enough for their daughter. He’d never wear polo shirts and pink shorts and belong to the damn club. He would never kiss their asses and pretend to be someone he wasn’t at a cocktail party.
Paul wouldn’t have played their games either, but he had something Holden didn’t—honor. He’d died in combat, he was a war hero, and to them, he was nothing more than a good story they could tell at a dinner party.
Arguably, the Axelsons were worse than the Towlers.
“Did you hear me?” Charleigh mumbled. “I’m so sorry, Holden.”
He felt the pressure build, the cold slide into his veins, but that chill didn’t last long before it morphed into fire.