Prologue

Harlow

Death was inevitable.

The timing of it was always in question, but it would come, one day or another.

I had a feeling it had come for me.

As someone without medical knowledge or a degree in the field, I couldn’t be certain. But I’d always imagined that a situation involving even a single gunshot wound would mean a person would be knocking on death’s door.

And if that was the case, it was almost a certainty that two gunshot wounds would lead an individual to that fate even faster.

Blood was everywhere.

The amount of it coming from the side of my head forced me to face my reality—it would be impossible to survive.

Somehow, I was alive for now, managing to have these thoughts, but I didn’t think I was going to last much longer. And since I couldn’t walk, given the other gunshot wound to my leg, I could only hope I was found before too long.

In the meantime, and in an effort not to focus on the horrific state of me, I tried to breathe through the panic and pain, and I allowed my mind to drift somewhere else.

The first place it went was to him.

God, this was going to kill him.

I hated it.

I hated that for him and for me.

And it was in those moments as I sat there with the life leaking out of me that I regretted doing this to myself. To him.

I wasn’t going to survive; and he’d never recover.

Why had I done it? Why couldn’t I have just been happy with my life as it was?

Memories from the last couple of months flitted through my mind, giving me my answers.

I’d gotten tired. Tired of living the same mundane existence. I’d needed something else, something more.

He had given it to me.

And I wound up here because I didn’t expect him. I never imagined a man like him existed and would sweep me off my feet the way he did. I never knew it was possible to feel what he’d made me feel. And I never believed I could love someone the way I loved him, the way he’d proven he loved me.

But love wasn’t enough.

It couldn’t stop this.

We’d barely had any time. And even if it was the best time of my life, it was also the reason I was going to die, the reason he would never be the same.

My heart broke.

Not for me—I wouldn’t feel a thing. He would, though. He’d feel this for a long time. Possibly forever.

When I knew it was happening, when I knew things were getting out of control, I should have walked away. I should have listened to the voice in my head telling me to walk away before the worst happened.

I didn’t listen.

I followed my heart.

And now, I couldn’t go back to change it.

Regret wouldn’t do anything for me now. My final moments needed to be filled with something good.

So, I thought about all the good things I’d had with him. I thought about the way he smiled at me. The way he looked at me. The things he made me feel and how he captured my heart.

Even through the pain I felt, there was lingering gratitude.

And as I felt myself fading, I had only one thought remaining.

Knowing the outcome, I’d still do it all over again, even if I’d only get the few short months that I did.

A moment later, I could have sworn I saw a shadow outside the front door, but my eyes drifted shut, and the world faded away.