I don’t deserve this consideration from him, don’t deserve anything from him since I’m giving him nothing in return. I turn abruptly around so that I straddle his legs where he sits on the edge of the lounger, my back to his front. I can’t bring myself to watch him as I do this—use him—and he sure as hell doesn’t need to see the tears that threaten to fill my eyes with each passing second.

I reach down between my legs, and Becks sucks in a breath as I grip his erection in my hand and position it at my entrance. I rub the crest back and forth a couple times over my seam to wet it and then, without giving him a moment to ready himself, slam my hips down hard and fast, sheathing him in one slick movement.

His groan fills the night air around us, our bodies shrouded from the view of neighbors by the night sky and overhanging tree branches. I don’t even give him a moment to sink into the sensation before I am on the move. I’m not fully ready for him, so my muscles stretch and skin burns at the friction as my body catches up to my running thoughts and urges.

But that makes me feel. It means I’m not completely numb. As fucked-up as it is, I welcome the pain as a punishment for the lie and for what I ultimately know I’m going to do.

I slide up and down Becks’s cock at a fervent pace, never giving him a moment to think or a chance to resist. I need to control this right now, him right now, because I can’t control anything else, and that fear is eating me alive right alongside the guilt. So I own him, own the moment, all the while hating myself.

I bring him to his orgasm at a rapid speed, the friction and vigor helping him light the fuse for his detonation. He comes with such violence, I can hear it in his cry, feel it in the muscles of his thighs locking tight and how his fingers dig into my hips.

“Holy shit,” he says when he’s finally caught his breath. He wraps his arms around me and presses his forehead against the line of my spine as he comes down from his orgasmic haze. “What in the hell was that?” His tone is one of shocked satisfaction, and I bite my lower lip to hold back the sob that catches in my throat.

“I think you should go now.” The evenness to my tone scares me. I feel his body jolt from my words. His chest, which was heaving against my back, stills, and the evidence from our union starts to seep out of me.

“What?”

I give him credit for remaining calm but almost wish he’d be angry because that’s easier to hold on to, to feed off of.

“You mind telling me what the fuck this is all about?”

I rise from his lap and collect my shorts and panties from the ground where they sit beside my empty lemonade glass. I use my underwear to clean myself up and then toss them to him to use without meeting his eyes. I notice them land on the chaise beside him without him so much as reaching for them.

“Suit yourself,” I mutter as I pull my shorts up, my motions on autopilot once again. “You can see yourself out,” I say as I start walking toward the house.

Within a flash, I’m being spun around to face the wrath of Becks. He tries to talk, but every word gets overlapped by the one before it as confusion wins the war over his emotions. “I’m lost here,” he finally gets out, his expression matching his words. “Do you mind telling me what the fuck is going on here? I’m a patient man, but hell if you’re not testing that right now with whatever game you’re playing.”

Our eyes remain locked, except the darkness around us allows me to keep the secrets hidden so that he can’t see the truths I’m protecting. “No game, Becks.” I shake my head and clear my throat to try to gain some conviction in my tone to reinforce the mistruth. “I think we’re moving way too fast, and I don’t really need this added stress in my life right now.”

“Come again?” His voice rises as he takes a step closer, jaw tensing and head shaking. “Did you not just ride me? That sure as hell isn’t the action of a woman trying to distance herself.”

“Think of it as a parting gift.” I instantly regret the flippant comment when I see him wince in reaction. The escalator to hell is only getting faster right now as I pile lie upon lie, hurt upon hurt.

“A parting gift?” He emits a sliver of a laugh laced with derision. “I’m trying really hard right now to make sense of this, how we went from orgasm to mindfuck, and I’m drawing a blank.” I clench my fists to combat the hurt in his eyes piercing my heart. “Did I do something wrong? Is there something you’re not telling me? Did Dante finally wear you down? What?”

And with that comment, Becks unknowingly opens the gates of Hell for me to walk through. I grab on and run with it, own it as if it were the truth. Anything to push him away right now, give me time to think. It’s so much easier to hurt him this way than it would be with all of the crap that cancer brings with it.

He asked me for a day at the farm. One day just to let him show me how good we could be together. I gave him that day and then some. But now I can’t give him anymore with all of this hanging over my head. God, yes, it has been so good, but he doesn’t deserve to deal with this disease. Hell, I don’t deserve to. It’s just so much easier to cut ties now than to drag him behind me with ropes of obligation binding us together.

“Yes.” My voice breaks with the single word. I clear my throat. “Yes, Dante and I had a heart-to-heart earlier today. We’re going to work things out. You know he’s more my type than you are, so it shouldn’t surprise you that I choose him.”

The expression on Becks’s face reflects a man who’s gone nine rounds in the ring as my words punch him. I can see him try to process what I’ve just said, see him try to acknowledge it, but the acceptance never comes.

Our eyes don’t waver from each other’s as he steps forward and raises both hands to frame my face so that I’m unable to look away. “I don’t know what the hell is going on, Montgomery. I have no fucking clue. You want space? Fine, I’ll give you space, but don’t for one second think I’m buying the fact that you choose that douche bag over me.” He exhales a broken breath as he figures out the rest of what he wants to say. My heart thunders in my ears, and my own breath is just as uneven as his but for the opposite reason. “I’m going to leave right now. I’m going to walk out that door and give you some time to figure out whatever the shit is in your head, but I don’t want it mistaken for a single second that I’m walking away from you.” He squeezes his eyes shut momentarily before opening them back up and the clarity in them has me feeling like he’s seeing into my soul. “I don’t walk away from the people I love without a fight, and damn it to hell, Haddie Montgomery, you’d better prepare for that fight because I’m in love with you.”

My mouth drops open from his unexpected confession, and I can’t even try to wrap my head around it because Becks’s lips are on mine, clearly driven by the emotion of his statement. It’s a short but holy-mother-of-hell kiss that leaves me breathless when he drags his mouth from mine.

And when we separate, he doesn’t meet my eyes. He steps back and turns on his heel without another word, and walks into the house, slamming the front door behind him, the sound so loud, I hear it where I remain rooted in disbelieving shock.

The chills come, my body trembles with the truth just laid at my feet, and my heart tears in two from hurting him and letting him walk away without making a concerted effort to fight for him.

I know I have a bigger fight ahead of me. A fight I don’t want to drag someone else through.

Holy fuck.

He loves me. The damn wildflower was right after all.

I’m not sure how long I sit out in the cocooning darkness and silence of the night, using the still to quiet the self-inflicted riot of emotions in my head before I shove myself up and move inside. I go through the motions of washing my glass, straightening up. I’m bending over, putting a bowl away in the lower cabinets when Dante’s voice startles me.

“Fuck me, Haddie. You can’t tempt a man like this and expect him to walk away without a taste. Or a fight.”

I scramble to stand up and shut the cabinet, my mind registering Dante’s words but thinking that Becks could be saying them just as easily to me. I flash my eyes up to find him leaning against the wall, his shirt off, a beer in one hand, and irritated disgust evident in his expression. The comebacks are firing through my brain, but I hold them back, trying to keep from fueling the temper I know he has when he drinks.

And a drunk Dante is an unpredictable Dante. This I know from experience, so I remain silent.

“So nice of you to finally come inside after your little fuck in the backyard,” he says, sarcasm dripping from his slurred words. “It seems to me you’re really walking on the wild side these days, babe.”

“Dante.” I nod my head, my voice even, and stand to full height when I finally speak to him.

“Dante,” he mimics me with a laugh that’s anything but warm. “Really, babe? Gonna be all frigid with me when an hour ago you were being fucked in the backyard by that guy?” He walks toward me in an unsteady swagger, judgment in his eyes. “What happened to the wild child I used to know? The ‘throw caution to the wind, willing to screw anytime and anywhere’ girl I dated? The one I matched dare for dare?” He stops, takes a sip, and chuckles. “You’re too good to settle, Haddie. A three-minute fuck in the backyard with that asshole tells me you are most definitely settling.”

“Fuck you.” The words are out of my mouth without a thought. How dare he come at me, telling me I’m settling when all I can think about is Becks: what I just did to him, how I hurt him, and the confession he left me with?