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“I’m proud to take you as my husband. I’m proud to say you chose me as your wife.” She took her time describing precisely how she felt about the man who’d stormed into her life without warning, without regard for the grief he refused to let her face alone. Brock was her rock. He was her foundation. He was destined to become her husband. She smiled at him then, tilted her head to indicate that’s all she wanted to say, and he recited his vows. “Your eyes seduce me. Your beauty intoxicates me. Your kiss invigorates me. You have captured my mind, my body, my heart, and my soul. You make me the man I’ve always wanted to be. I will love you more than you ever thought you could be loved. This is my promise, forever.” About that time, Brock pursed his lips and closed his eyes. When he opened them again, they were full of tears, but the tears threatening to spill were not joyous or sentiments held for a special celebration. Something had changed between them. Before Mary could ask him what was wrong, he answered all her questions. “As much as I can promise to forever love you, I cannot marry you.” Anna gasped behind her. Mary stared at him blankly. Her heart threatened to collapse right there as she awaited an explanation. “Brock?” She finally managed to say his name as her pulse quickened and her nerves shattered around her. “Why are you doing this?” He took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and with every inch of the soldier coming forward in what she translated as cool arrogance and false pride, he slipped a kiss on her cheek, and with tears pooling in the corners of his eyes, he said, “You aren’t mine to claim.” “What do you mean I’m not yours?” Mary screeched, glancing at Anna, who looked as confused as she felt. “I love you.” “I love you, too, Mary,” he assured her, peeling away the tight fingers wrapped around his wrist. “I still can’t marry you.” He turned his back to her and took the first step away from the minister. As Mary’s jaw dropped, she stood there with her arms at her sides, searching the eyes of those in the congregation—four military couples she didn’t know, but apparently just as curious as she was about the groom’s sudden change of heart. Brock had almost reached the door when she lost it. “This is what you do, isn’t it?” A beat later, she screamed at those there to witness a marriage that wouldn’t happen, “This is what all of you do. You leave! It doesn’t matter if it’s in the dead of winter or the highest heat of summer. It doesn’t matter if you have children to care for or dying parents in their beds. You don’t care who you leave behind, because all that matters, all that’s important, is fighting for the next cause, drawing your weapons for the next battle that will never be won!” She clenched her fists. Anna didn’t stop her. The rage grabbed hold and Mary continued, “You’re cowards. All of you! That’s what you are! You use the military to protect you because you don’t want to love freely or without conditions. You don’t want family responsibilities because you don’t want anyone to get close enough to destroy you like you know you’re destined to devastate them!” Brock kept walking. His body was rigid. His head bowed. “That’s right, you go, Brock Taylor. You go and don’t you ever look back! Do you hear me?” Tears streamed down her face. She turned to Anna and searched her sister’s eyes. Anna tilted her head and cried too. “Honey, I’m so sorry,” she said, reaching for her. “Let me go talk to him.” “No,” Mary said, shaking her head vehemently. “If he doesn’t want me, I’ll live alone. I’ve been humiliated enough.” “I told you to love her.” A loud rasp overpowered the whispers in the chapel. “I didn’t ask you to leave her.” The recognizable voice filled the chapel and stilled her heart. “Oh my God,” Anna whispered, lifting her head and staring at someone behind Mary. “You know Mary’s right. You’re a coward, Brock Taylor.” Brock turned to face his accuser. Mary searched his eyes and saw how much he loved her, saw how much he was willing to sacrifice, and she slowly turned to see who stood behind her, recognizing every inch of the hard flesh covered in dress whites. “Oh my God,” she choked out, her hand covering her mouth. “This can’t be.” “Hi, doll,” Luke drawled. “Did you miss me?” Chapter Eleven Mary had a little problem. So as far as she was concerned, she could lie on that church floor until the cows came home. She hoped they didn’t arrive anytime soon. It was better to pretend she was still out cold than to open her eyes and acknowledge the facts. Luke was there, and for some reason, he chose one hell of a time to come back. “Mary,” Brock said gently, gathering her in his arms. “Honey, are you okay?” Sure. She was perfect. What the hell did he think? She was about to marry the person she loved, the man who saved her from despair, and the source behind her grief walked back into her life and chose quite possibly the most inconvenient time to do that. She was just swell, so great in fact, that she didn’t think she’d ever survive the fallout from all this chaos. Then there was the obvious—Luke was alive! The husband she thought she’d lost had returned to her. “Mary? Mary, honey, sit up,” Anna encouraged her, swiping her brow with a wet rag. “Just what were the two of you thinking?” A beat later, she addressed Luke. “You’re something else, you know that? When did you decide to live again, hmm? What are you doing here, Luke? Hmm? Why would you wait until Mary had a stab at happiness to do this?” Another second passed and she said, “And you, I expected more from you, Brock. How could you do this? How could you walk out on her? Don’t you know how much she fears being left behind by those she loves most?” “This isn’t his fault, Anna,” Luke said, brushing his knuckles across Mary’s arm. “He had no idea I was even alive until I had a letter delivered here right before the ceremony.” “What happened to staying dead?” Brock asked accusingly. “What happened to wanting her happy?” “Well, your dumb ass kind of changed all that, didn’t it? If you hadn’t decided to be all noble and walk away from the best thing in your life, I would’ve stayed behind the pulpit and let the two of you be pronounced husband and wife.” [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ] |
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