Angel Falling (Falling #1)(69)

Hank wants children? We’d never discussed it and he’d never brought it up. A niggling thought pierced my subconscious.

It’s because he doesn’t want them with you!

That had to be why he never broached the subject of children. He was closing in on his mid-thirties. It’s probable that a man his age would want to settle down, have a family.

“Don’t talk about Aspen. You don’t know her!” he said in my defense. A glimmer of hope was thrown out and I hung onto that raft for dear life.

“No, I don’t know her. But Hank, they are a dime a dozen, those city folk. And I was told by your Ma that she’s got tons of money. What could you—a builder, a cattleman—bring to the table that she doesn’t already have or can’t get for herself?” Her words confirmed everything I had ever feared. In the back of my mind, I’d always worried that my money and our lifestyle differences would break us. She was waving it in front of his face like a pork chop to a hungry wolf.

“I need a man who can take care of me. One who I can take care of in return, just like we used to. Hank, I’d do anything for you. You know that. What happened back then is history. It was a terrible, terrible mistake. There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t wish it were different! I miss you and love you so much!” she practically screamed the last part.

Under the wagon I could see Hank go to her. She finally broke him. He was holding her in the perfect home, his embrace. I could hear him shushing her and telling her it was going to be okay. The distinct sound of lips on lips was unmistakable.

He was kissing her.

That’s when the world stopped; it no longer turned on its axis. It was over. The bubble had finally burst. Deep down, I knew it would. We were too different … worlds apart. I was too enamored with Hank and the goodness he represented to really understand it could never work. And now he’d proved it. He cheated, just like Grant.

Without making my presence known I darted from the wagon and set out at a full run toward the house. My body was covered with sweat, tears pouring down my face, when I reached my destination. I couldn’t breathe. Stars were shooting off in my peripheral vision; I tried in vain to blink them back. I ran to the side door of the house, dodging people left and right. I made it through the double doors and ran right into Ollie and Dean.

One look at my face and Dean’s eyes burned into white hot pokers. Ollie scooped me into a full body embrace. “Oh, no. Shit, Dean, we gotta go,” Oliver gestured to Dean. I did my best to choke back the heaving sobs that were desperately wracking my body, escaping through my mouth in agonized groans.

Oliver and Dean dragged me out to the front of the house and into Hank’s truck. Dean jumped into the driver’s seat as Ollie laid me in the back. Hank must have left the keys in the ignition, because we were off with a squeal of the tires and rocks flying in our wake.

“Fuck, no f*cking cell service,” Ollie screamed, but the voices were starting to get jumbled. “Princess, what happened?” Ollie asked in the most caring voice. I knew that voice. He used that tone after every breakup, fight with Rio, or a knock-down drag-out with my mother. Basically, any time he saw me in pain.

“He kissed her. He loves her,” I choked out, and covered my face. Misery—deep utter regret and misery—took hold. He didn’t see me as enough. I had to get out of his home, out of Texas. I needed to be home. On my turf.

“Hank kissed another woman?” Ollie asked and I nodded. The ability to speak was gone, my throat dry, hot and scratchy as if I swallowed razorblades. “He loves someone else? But he said you, he loved you! He told us all that!” Ollie started to cry and Dean shushed him the same way Hank comforted Susie. Bile rose in my throat and the sour taste filled my mouth with saliva.

Oliver petted my arm; fat tears ran down his face as he cried with me. He always did. If I was in pain, so was he. It’s the way it worked with us. He was the only man I could ever truly love that wouldn’t hurt me. God I was stupid.

“H-He’s going b-a-a-acck to his ex!” I managed with the last bit of effort I could muster. The agony was just too much. Shards of pain dug deep into my gut and it took everything I had not to heave and wretch what little I had to eat today on the floorboard. It wasn’t like this with Grant. The bastard cheated on me twice and I took him back, never so broken so distraught. In fact, I’d never actually felt this type of suffering in all my twenty eight years. It was overwhelming, all encompassing, it took over my entire being.


The men pulled up to Hank’s house, but Ollie suggested I stay in the car. I did what they said, not really caring what happened next.

Visions of Hank smiling, calling me Angel, making love to me, tortured my thoughts. His laugh, the way his body seemed to glow after he took a shower burned into memory. His silly nicknames for everyone in my life, including me. How he fought with Gustav, and the taste of his skin first thing in the morning … pure bliss. The welcome home kiss at the end of each day that stopped my heart from beating. The way he cupped my cheeks and groaned into my mouth as if there was no place he’d rather be when he’d first press his solid length into me. All gone. Fuck. It was too much.

All too soon I was being lifted and moved into another car. A taxi. Bags were being tossed into the back hurriedly. The men settled into the cab, Dean in front, Ollie in back holding me close. Dean’s phone was ringing off the hook. Ollie was screaming orders into his cell phone.