The Divorced Military Queen Awakens (by Sadie Baxter) novel Chapter 560

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Chapter 560: Not Even a Glimmer of Hope

After the salve had been carefully applied, Laura pressed the small tube firmly into Weston’s palm. “Here—keep this with you. You’ll need to reapply it later. And once your hand is healed, don’t bother returning it. I’ll just pick up another one.”

Weston gripped the tube tightly, as if it were the only thing anchoring him to reality.

Suddenly, he broke the silence. “Have you thought that fussing over my hand only makes me want more? Or have you forgotten that not so long ago, I told you I loved you?”

Laura met his gaze steadily. “You saved my life today. Checking your injury is the very least I can do for you.” Her voice was calm but firm. “But if you’re hoping for anything beyond that… I have nothing to give.”

“Nothing to give?” Weston’s voice was sharp. “No, you do have something. You just refuse to hand it over.”

“I can’t just give you my feelings because I want to,” she said quietly. “Remember when you agreed to date me? Even then, you couldn’t force yourself to love me.”

Weston’s rebuttal caught in his throat. His fingers clenched tighter around the tube until the plastic crumpled softly beneath his grasp.

“So what you’re really saying,” he pressed, “is that you’ll never fall in love with me?”

“Exactly.” Her answer was clear, steady, without the slightest hesitation.

Her eyes remained locked on his—transparent and unwavering, impossible to misinterpret. Once, that gaze had shone with unmistakable affection. Now, it shimmered with an equally unmistakable absence of it.

“We’re alone here, in your apartment,” Weston said, stepping closer, his shadow engulfing her slender frame. “Aren’t you afraid I might do something?”

Laura’s voice was soft but resolute. “You won’t.”

Weston gave a bitter smile. “And how can you be so sure? Do you really think I’m a gentleman?”

Her smile was sharp, edged with something cold. “I’ve never mistaken you for one.”

She understood the ruthless world Weston dominated—a place where the lines between right and wrong blurred, and no one climbed to his level without cunning and calculated moves, even with the Windore name behind him. True gentlemen rarely reached such heights.

“Then why…” His question hung in the air, unfinished.

“Because you have pride,” Laura said evenly. “Once I rejected you, that pride wouldn’t let you force yourself on a woman who doesn’t love you.”

Weston’s pupils narrowed, surprise flickering briefly across his composed, aristocratic mask. Pride, huh?

In that moment, he almost wished his pride had been a little less rigid, his vision a little clearer. Maybe then, he would have understood the simple, devastating truth of loving her long before now.

“You’re right,” Weston said, his voice low but steady, steel beneath the surface as his eyes held hers without wavering. “I won’t force a woman who doesn’t love me. So, Laura Wentworth, I will never force myself on you. Not now, not ever.”