Now I was the arrogant bastard.
My fist closed around his ring, and I concentrated on the edges cutting into my palm, letting the pain ground me. SOAR was his dream, not mine. And yeah, he’d think it was kick-ass if I flew with the 160th…but he’d be pissed if he could see what I’d done to my relationship.
He lives for them.
He’d needed Jagger to live for Paisley. That love, their future family had been his last thought. His last word had been garbled through his blood, but I’d heard when he’d whispered Peyton’s name.
Love.
His last moments weren’t a lament of never flying with SOAR. They weren’t spent talking about how honorable it had been to save our lives. Because in those final, gasping breaths, that hadn’t mattered. He’d only needed to know that his friends would live, that Paisley would be okay, that he’d be with Peyton soon. If Will left a legacy, it was love. And I let mine slip through my fingers because I was an arrogant bastard with my head up my ass.
Of course she’d left, given up, taken the out I damn-near shoved down her throat. I had taken the last of her hope and crushed it when I walked out that door last night.
God, I’d wanted to stay, ached to, but I knew I would have given in if I’d lingered one second longer. I would have put my hands on her, forgotten every reason she needed to go, and I would have let her stay.
Maybe I could live with the guilt of what happened to Will, but watching that fire inside Ember die slowly? That would kill me.
My cell phone buzzed in the pocket of my shorts, and I fumbled it before I swiped it to answer the Colorado number. “Hello?”
“Mr. Walker?” a sweet voice asked.
I glanced at the phone again, trying to place the number with the slightly familiar voice. “Yes?”
“Hi! This is Mrs. Patricks, your wedding coordinator?”
Well if this wasn’t the most fucked-up moment for this call. Fuck, what if she already canceled our wedding? Or maybe it was the deposit. Yeah, that had to be it. “Hi, Mrs. Patricks.” I rubbed the skin between my eyes. I’d been making payments from Afghanistan, but there was still a thousand due before next week. “I know the balance for the deposit is due.”
“Oh, no. That’s not why I’m calling. With yesterday’s payment, your balance is paid in full. I was actually letting you know that the photographer you wanted has signed his contract.”
Great, now we’d have to cancel that, too, if I’d lost her. Wait— “Did you say the balance was paid in full?”
“Yes.” Clicking sounds resonated in the background. “Miss Howard emailed me last night and made the final payment.”
I nearly hit my knees. “She did?”
“Yes. Late last night, actually. Five hundred dollars. The other payments had been spread out between the ones you’ve sent me directly and the ones posted online.”
Ember. She’d been making payments. She’d made one after we fought last night. Somehow, even after everything I’d put her through, she still wanted to marry me.
She still had hope.
“Mr. Walker?” Mrs. Patricks asked.
“Yeah, thank you for letting me know, but I have to go. I’ll tell Ember about the photographer, thank you.” I hung up and raced down the stairs, jumping the last four.
My feet damn near flew as I raced through our living room, grabbing my keys off the coffee table and leaving Will’s ring in their place.
What about her ring? Don’t you need it? I skidded to a halt in the kitchen. Nope. Fuck the ring. If she’d left it here, I’d buy her a new one. I’d buy her five new ones.
We’d work it out. We had to. I’d crawl on my fucking knees if I had to, but I wasn’t losing her. I’d find a way for her to have everything—our love and her career— without choosing. I dialed her number as the garage door opened painfully slow, and the call went to voicemail as I climbed behind the wheel.
When the third call went to voicemail, and I was halfway out of our neighborhood, I broke down and called Sam.
“What the hell do you want, Walker?” she snapped.
“Her phone is going to voicemail.”
“Maybe she doesn’t want to talk to you. Hell, I don’t even want to talk to you, and I’m not the one you crushed.”
“Sam!” I shouted, coming to a screeching halt at the stop sign. “I fucked up, okay? I put…everything before her, and I know she’s hurt. But I have never, not for one second, ever not loved Ember. She’s my entire reason for existing. I just need to talk to her, Sam. I have to clear this up. I’ll do whatever the fuck she wants, but I can’t lose her. So if you wouldn’t mind just maybe giving me her damned flight information, I would be very appreciative!”
“You’re losing your shit.”
“I have nothing to lose, Sam. Come on. She’s everything.”
“Give him the flight information, Samantha,” Grayson said in the background.
“Do you have me on speaker?” I nearly gagged.
“It seemed like a family kind of moment.”
I could practically see her shrug from here.
“Sam—” Grayson hissed.
“Fine. But you hurt her again, Josh, and I’ll add more scars to that body of yours.”
“Deal.”
“She’s on TransAtlantic Flight 3305 out of Nashville in…one hour.”
I was fifty minutes from the airport. “Thank you, Sam.”