I know why though.

I crave what she can give me, a future and a family. And the idea that she could disappear haunts me. Getting her pregnant ties her to me, and I can’t envision a tomorrow without her in it. I don’t want to.

I’ve failed at fighting off my survival instinct that tells me to keep her close. To keep her here. I’ve given in to the temptation to find a way to cage this beautiful creature so I can keep her for my own. And in doing so, I’ve become no better than the monster she ran from.

I feel evil as fuck for sinking so low. But my craving for her is a thousand times worse than my addiction to cigarettes. It’s all-consuming and makes me feel like a drug addict. A sick, obsessed, would-cheat-and-steal-to-get-another-hit junky.

Something I fucking hate.

Pulling her up to me, I take her mouth. I push away my sixth sense that tells me I’m in danger. I don’t need the warning. I already know all she has to do is walk away, and without ever striking a match, she’ll burn my world down around me.

What you discover at the end of an unpaved road may surprise you.

MAVERICK

A downpour seems imminent as the blackening storm clouds overhead rumble with thunder. I pray the storm holds long enough to allow me to do what I need to do.

The turbulent weather is a reflection of my mood, which has darkened since this morning. I mistakenly thought the burn that used to torment my chest was a thing of the past, but the nearer we get to our destination the more it intensifies. At every exit, I battle with the urge to turn off and drive in the opposite direction.

But I know I can’t.

Ember needs to see this.

And somehow, I need to find the strength to show it to her.

Sitting beside me in the cab of my truck, she stares out the window. Every so often, she shoots me a wary glance, one that accompanies a feeble smile with tight lines around her mouth, as if she can sense what’s coming.

Fuck. Maybe I should wait and do this another day, after we’ve shared more good times than bad.

I expel a long breath and rub my hand vigorously over my head. Doubts circle, and for the millionth time, I nearly pull over and turn around.

“Mav, what’s going on? I can feel your tension from here.”

I grab her hand and force a smile. After lacing our fingers together, I kiss her knuckles. “I have to show you somethin’. It’s just . . . not gonna be easy.”

Her gaze runs over my face. “Okay.”

I fight the feeling of a heavy rock in my stomach as I turn onto the dirt road. Ember’s fingers tighten over mine.

“It’s up this road a bit.”

A few minutes later, I catch a glimpse of the top of it. She must see it too because she shifts in her seat and leans forward.

The cab is dead silent as we get closer and pull in front of it and to the side of the road. I’m sure her mind is swirling with questions. Instead of answering them, I fist the steering wheel and use the moment of silence to try to push down the dread circling in the pit of my stomach.

I stare forward and purposely avoid the wreckage that sits forty yards from the road.

“We’re not that different,” I tell her. “We both needed to burn the past to try and move on from it.” I look over and see concern and confusion mar her gorgeous features. Under my breath I mutter, “Only you’re stronger than I am, Doll, because I could never move on.”

I rub my thumb over the scar on her wrist. Again, I’m floored by her fortitude and the fight she holds in that little body of hers.

She’s risked her life trying to survive her ex. She’s worked her ass off to provide for her family, and she’s put her own dreams on hold because a child that wasn’t even hers needed her.

What the fuck have I done?

I’ve wasted years letting the past eat at me.

I became the very man my parents feared I’d become.

And I nearly killed the only woman who could be my salvation.

Drawing in a deep breath and pushing past the pain, I turn my head and let my eyes roam over tumbleweeds that have blown into what would have been the front yard. My chest burns white hot. I scan the charred remains of what was supposed to be my home. The place I was going to raise my kids, and make memories, be a father, and grow old with my wife.

When I look at it, I see it for both what it is now and what it was meant to be.

The house was only framed when I threw the cocktail bomb. The entire left side is gone. Maybe seventy-five percent of the structure is left standing. But half of the roof is caved in, and a blackened truss lays where the stairs should be. The rest of it is ash and dust, carried away with the wind. Even the wood is warped and rotted. Pieces of it are completely missing. It’s a sad sight. Dead. Lifeless.

Apt since that’s what I’ve been since I lit it up.

I pull into the dirt drive and after throwing the truck into park, I open my door. A few seconds later, Ember does the same. She meets me at the front of the truck and curls one arm around mine, and uses her other hand to thread her fingers through mine. I feel so many things from that connection. Her sympathy and understanding. But above all, she lends me her strength.

Knowing I don’t have to face this inescapable agony alone makes it almost bearable.

For more time than I’m probably aware of, I inspect the damage.

I finally confess, “I did this the day I found her.” In my mind, I rewind and replay that night and how the flames devoured the newly framed wood and crawled up the front of the house.

I was a mess. Because not only had I become best friends with my good buddy Jack, and was on bottle number two, but also because finding her like that had ruined me. Ruined the man I’d been, the future I’d planned, and my chances of fulfilling the memories with the child I’d dreamed of. I just wanted to put an end to it all. Erase it as if I’d never had the damn dreams in the first place.

So I tore off my shirt and shoved a piece of it inside the bottle. After taking a lighter from my pocket, I lit the shirt and for a split second, I considered not tossing it.

That’s how fucked up I’d been. The pain had consumed me and I was going to let the fire finish the job.

It took minutes to destroy months of work.

But losing Dana and the baby weren’t the only things gutting me that night.

She’d cut my life into pieces and left me to live it broken. And instead of punishing her, I’d lost it and punished the nearest person I found fault with. With my bare hands, I’d taken a life. I did it and ignored every warning my conscious threw at me. I didn’t spare a second to concern myself with who he was besides her drug dealer. Or whether or not he had a family of his own.

I killed him in cold blood, and I was going to hell for it. I knew there would never be anything I could do to change that fact.

“Why would she walk away if she had you . . . and this?” Doll whispers.

“She didn’t know about this. Nobody did. Not even my brothers. It was meant to be a surprise.”

“You never told anyone?”

“No one besides Cap even knew she was pregnant.”

“Oh, Mav. Why?”

I shrug. “Because they’re all about pussy, and green, and partyin’ ’til you pass out on the floor. How were any of them gonna relate or know what the fuck I was goin’ through? We’re not made from the same grade of grease. I’ve always known that. I love ’em. But we have a different idea of what a good life looks like.”

I don’t give her time to grasp my meaning. Instead, I pull her to the back of the truck and bring down the tailgate. Another bolt of pain flares through my chest as I yank the black bag toward me.

Retrieving the bag this morning from my bedroom at the clubhouse was hard enough. Every time I touch it, I relive that day and the month of utter frustration I spent looking for Dana. I relive the rising hope, and then the desolate fall. I relive trying to kill her, and then turning every ounce of my anger on the guy Cap threw in front of me. I relive each punch that pulverized his face into nothingness, and how with each hit I felt a little bit more of the man I was slipping away.