The Bourbon Kings Page 132

“Lane, can I talk to you?”

He cleared his throat. Sat up straight like a man.

Apparently, he hadn’t imagined this.

“Yes, of course. What do you need? If it’s a reference, I’ll have the butler—”

“I’m sorry.” As her voice cracked, she took a shuddering breath. “I’m so, so sorry.”

What was she—

“Oh, my father.” He shrugged. “I guess you overheard something. Yes, he’s gone. Funeral in a week. Thanks for the kind words.”

“I’m not talking about that. Although, well, I am sorry that you lost your father. I know that wasn’t a good relationship for you, but it’s still hard.”

“Well, I happen to excel at relationships that are not good. I’m quite facile with them.”

Even to his own ears, his voice sounded fake, the words not ones he would normally use, either.

Edward, he thought numbly. He sounds like Edward.

Lizzie came forward, and then he was more than a little surprised to find her kneeling before him. And she was—

“Why are you crying?” he asked. “Are you all right—”

“God, how can you ask that? After what I did—”

“What are you talking about—”

In their typical fashion, they were speaking over each other, and because he didn’t have the energy left to decipher anything, he shut up in hopes she would do some explaining and clarify things.

“I was wrong,” she choked out. “I’m sorry I didn’t believe you. About Chantal. I just—I didn’t want to get hurt again, and I jumped to conclusions, and oh, God, I know your father was the one. I know he was the one. He was the one who hit her, he was the one who got her pregnant. I’m so sorry.”

Tears streamed down her cheeks, falling like rain from her face, landing in the bluegrass at his feet.

Lane blinked. It was all he could—

Jesus, his brain wasn’t able to process any of this. He literally couldn’t understand what she was saying—

Reaching behind her back, she pulled out something. A sheaf of papers? That was folded in half?

“Sorry isn’t enough,” she said. “I’ve hurt you too badly for that. So … I need to do something concrete, something to prove that I’m really with you, that I love you, and I’m … I’m really with you.”

She held the pages out to him. “I need to show you, not tell you.”

Lane shook his head. “Lizzie, I don’t know what—”

“Take it,” she said.

He did as she asked only because he didn’t have the brains to think of a reason not to. Opening the crease, he looked at …

A whole bunch of letters. Followed by some numbers.

The second sheet was a map?

“It’s the deed to my farm,” she whispered. “I know compared to everything you have, it’s not much. But it’s all I have in this world.”

“I don’t understand?”

“With the kind of money problems you’re facing, it won’t help with that kind of debt. But it’s worth enough to pay for good lawyers, for people who can help you sort everything out.” She tapped the document. “I paid it off yesterday. I don’t owe anything on it. And I’ve been approached to sell it before. It’s good land. It’s valuable. And it’s yours.”

His breath left his body.

His heart stopped.

His soul broke in half.

“I love you, Lane. I’m sorry I doubted you. I feel … God, you have no idea how badly I feel. Let me make it up to you the only way I know how. Or … throw the papers in my face if you want. I won’t blame you. But I had to do something that mattered. I had to … offer you everything I am and everything I have—”

Lane wasn’t aware of reaching for her.

But he knew the moment she was up against his chest.

Wrapping his arms around her, he lost his shit completely, the dam cracking open, everything coming out in sobs.

And Lizzie, with her strong body and her big heart, held him for as long as it took.

“It’s going to be okay,” she told him. “I promise you … somehow, it’ll be okay.”

When he finally had it together enough to pull back, he had a quick urge to reach between his legs and make sure he was still a guy. But Lizzie didn’t seem to care about him being weak.

He wiped her face with his thumbs and kissed her.

“I love you, Lizzie.” Then he shook his head. “But I don’t know about God.”

“What?”

Lane took a shuddering breath. “It’s just something that Miss Aurora always told me.”

“What’s that?”

He kissed his woman again. “I don’t know if I have God … but I’m sure of this. I have you … and that makes me wealthy beyond means.”

Bringing her back against him, he held on to her and stared up at Easterly.

To hell with flying into a mountain, he thought.

As of this moment … he was now the head of the family, such as it was.

And he would be damned if things went to hell and gone on his watch.

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