“And Will. God, Will. I was good enough to be friends with. Good enough to help him study before he got all buddy-buddy with Josh. I was good enough to pin his wings on graduation day when his mama couldn’t stand straight, and by God, I was pretty enough to kiss the night he took me to the flight school graduation ball. But I wasn’t enough for him to actually want.”

She put her glasses on, turned around, and swung three times, bringing two cabinets completely down to the counter beneath before she turned back around. Her chest heaved.

“Heaven forbid the West Point, Distinguished Honor Grad, perfect, moral, by-the-book Will Carter actually slum it with Morgan Bartley. I guess Prom Queen wasn’t the resume he was looking for.” Her head fell as her shoulders rose, and I stood. She gasped for a few breaths and then shot me a glare that had my ass back in the seat.

“And then he had the nerve to drive down right before he deployed and tell me that he wanted to try.” She laughed, but it wasn’t happy. “Finally, after years of loving that man, he wanted to try. But not then, of course. Heaven forbid Will act on a feeling. No, he wanted to try when he got home from that deployment. But I figured, hey, I’ve waited eight years for him, so what does nine months change?”

Everything, I answered myself. Even though I knew the end of the story, I kept waiting for her to give me the happy ending that she deserved.

“And he kissed me good-bye,” she said softly. “And he went. Twice. I only ever kissed him twice. He died two weeks later, saving Josh and Jagger’s lives, and as it happened, he told Josh that Jagger had to live for Paisley.” She dropped the sledge completely. “The man I loved with my whole heart gave his life so one of the women he loved could have her husband.”

“Holy shit, Morgan, I’m so sorry.” My fucking chest ached for her.

She shrugged, like it wasn’t a damned tragedy. “It was noble, right? But that was Will. I’ve spent the last two years wondering why I wasn’t enough to make him want to live.”

I stood, unable to keep still any longer.

“That’s on him. Not on you,” I said softly, more than aware that I was treading in dangerous territory.