Ty stepped away from her, feeling wooden and hollow as he turned, determined to do the right thing. But when he met her eyes, he saw n***d grief there before the shutters came down again. He was already hurting her without even trying. Calling himself ten kinds of asshole, he pulled her in, needing to offer some kind of comfort, even though he was the problem. Her hands curled in the front of his shirt, and he couldn’t stop himself from burying his face in her hair. She smelled of warm vanilla and the sharp cedar of his body wash.
Paisley burrowed against him, holding tight. How could he send her away now? How could he put that look in her eyes again? He’d had nightmares about it for months after he’d shipped out. He’d never, ever forgotten the sound of her tears when he’d broken things o
