“We were never sure what to make of it that you believed she’d taken the money when she hadn’t.” Rosalie Striker fluffed her dyed brown curls, her hairstyle still exactly the same as the one she’d worn in his youth. “We assumed she wanted you to think she took it. That she used the misunderstanding as a way out of the relationship.”

“Only because I was quick to believe the worst of her. Since Dad lied to me.” He had to take some ownership for his own actions back then, as did Elena.

Yet he placed the biggest blame firmly in his father’s court.

“He did a foolish thing, Gage,” his mom admitted, crossing her ankles. “I hope you won’t hold it against him forever. In his own way, he does love you.”

And this was how he showed it? Defensiveness ate away at him, especially considering that Elena had just told Gage he wasn’t all that different from his old man. Was he that unbending?

“Elena traveled halfway around the world as my guest only to be treated like a viper and asked to leave. Is it any wonder I’m not inclined to roll out the red carpet for Dad when he shows up here?” Gage’s attention flicked back to the house, where a light snapped on in the media room he had been remodeling into a studio for Elena.

With no blinds on the new windows the work crew had installed, he could see her inside the house, dressed in jeans and a simple white blouse, pulling a suitcase behind her.

His heart stopped in his chest for a long moment before kicking to life faster.

“I’ve got to go.” Standing, he didn’t know what he was going to say to her, but he knew he had to try to find the right words.

Fear of her leaving ate away at his insides.

“Do you love her, son?” His mother’s hand circled his as he stood, but her words were what glued his feet in place.

“Love?” Not that it was a foreign concept, per se. But he hadn’t thought about it. Or maybe, more truthfully, he’d tried not to think about love and Elena in the same sentence.

Maybe because love hadn’t worked out well for him in the past. His relationships with his parents—his father especially—had always been difficult. His closest friendships as a kid had resulted in a loss that left a lifelong wound.

“She’s gotten closer to you than any other woman, Gage. Twice.” His mother’s eyes were wise, her tone gentle as she probed at the edges of his hurt. “Elena Rollins seems too important for you to let her get away.”

“I’m going to do my best to make her stay,” he assured her, needing to talk to Elena now. Before she got on a plane and never came back.