The Better Choice

by Modglin, Kiersten

  Copyright © 2019 by Kiersten Modglin

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to locales, events, business establishments, or actual persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.

  www.kierstenmodglinauthor.com

  Cover Design: Tadpole Designs

  Editing: Three Owls Editing

  Formatting: Tadpole Designs

  First Print Edition: 2019

  First Electronic Edition: 2019

  Praise for The Better Choice

  “This book begins with a question and will keep you wondering, second-guessing yourself, and seeking answers until you're almost at the end...

  It's all the little choices Blythe makes along the way that bring meaning to this story, and although I had made a choice of my own between the two men who had a piece of her heart early on, I questioned much of what I knew, as Blythe did.

  This book had Kiersten's signature "Modglin Twist", making it all the more exciting, keeping me on my toes, delivering moments of wisdom and deeper meaning, and sending me reeling towards the finale of this story with tears in my eyes, rooting for Blythe and the HEA she deserved.”

  Emerald O’Brien, Author of The Knox and Sheppard Mysteries

  “Kiersten Modglin brings an interesting romance story to the table with her classic twists that leave you in a "WTF-like state.”

  Modglin always brings a story full of edge of your seat feelings. While her thrillers have more twists to try and anticipate, her romances have enough to keep you reeling for days after finishing.”

  Books and Babble Blog

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Enjoyed The Better Choice?

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Also by Kiersten Modglin

  To my husband, Michael, for giving me the whole fairytale.

  You were the best choice I ever made.

  Chapter One

  Blythe had no idea what was coming for her that morning. It felt so normal—a morning like any other.

  “Beckett, come eat your breakfast, sweetheart,” she called toward the living room, watching as her son bounded into the kitchen, a stuffed dog in one hand. The dog was a present from his grandmother—his latest favorite, and it was evident by the stains that already needed to be washed out. “Here you go. Breakfast,” she told him, patting the counter as he climbed up into his seat. “Set Scruffy down.”

  She heard footsteps headed down the stairs as her husband came into view. He was adjusting his shirt as he grabbed a piece of toast and kissed her lips. After all their years together, he still managed to send butterflies through her stomach with just a look.

  “You look beautiful,” he told her, his stubble scraping her skin as he cupped her ass and squeezed playfully.

  She felt her face grow red, kissing him again and handing over the mug of coffee she already had poured for him. “Big day today?” she asked.

  He took a sip of coffee, inhaling sharply as it burned his tongue.

  “Big day always,” he said with a nod. “I’ve gotta meet with the client before we finish up the project. It’s looking like,” he paused to knock on wood, “we might actually finish up this one without incident.”

  Blythe nodded, watching Beckett as he smeared a bit of jam from the corner of his mouth to his cheek with the back of his hand. “Beck, use a napkin please, baby.”

  “I’m so proud of you,” she said, looking back at her husband. He shrugged. It wasn’t the first project he’d led, but it was still a significant one. And, though he wouldn’t brag on himself, she would happily brag for him. He’d worked his ass off for that promotion, and it was well deserved.

  Crap, she thought as she heard a knock on the door. Who in the world could possibly be visiting so early in the morning on a Thursday? She rolled her eyes at the thought of some of the neighborhood moms who would already have a yoga class in by now. He furrowed his brow at her, and she knew he was thinking the same thing.

  They loved their home, truly they did, but sometimes they both longed for the anonymity that the city had once given them. The place where they didn’t know anyone. The place where they wouldn’t be bothered by anyone.

  She walked to the door, patting Beckett’s head, though he didn’t seem fazed by the interruption. She felt her husband’s hand on her back as they walked through the kitchen, then the living room, and into the foyer. She took a breath, in no way prepared for what would be waiting for her as she swung open the door.

  The man in front of her was familiar. She recognized him instantly, though his face had aged significantly in just a few years. She sucked in a sharp breath, blinking heavily. What was happening? Her brain couldn’t compute.

  Her husband, who seemed equally shocked to see their visitor, cleared his throat and lowered his voice.

  “What are you doing here?” he demanded.

  The visitor grimaced, clearly not happy to be there either. “I’m here to see my son.”

  Chapter Two

  SIX YEARS EARLIER

  The masked man jerked the purse from her arm, not realizing it was thrown across her chest. He tried to run, practically dragging her as she attempted to pull the oversized purse back. It contained everything she owned—the only things of hers left in the world.

  “Hey!” someone called from behind them, and she heard hurried footsteps headed their way. The mugger jerked, shoving his arm out and knocking her off her feet.

  She fell to the ground with a thud, slamming her elbow onto the concrete and cursing. She saw her attacker running down the street, bag in hand, before turning left into the dark alley. She sighed heavily, feeling foolish and frustrated.

  Day one in New York, and already she’d been mugged. Face it, her mother had been right. Small-town girls didn’t belong in the city. Suddenly, she felt a hand slide under her arm and tensed up. She’d forgotten all about the man who’d attempted to save her. His face was near her ear. “Whoa, there, you okay?” he asked. He tried to help her stand.

  She nodded, looking up to see the man standing behind her. He was tall, dark, and incredibly handsome. Dark brown eyes, shaggy brown hair that nearly covered them, and a leather jacket that fit him loosely over his tight jeans and boots. “Um, thank you, yeah, I’m okay,” she said, dusting off the butt of her jeans as she stood.

  He glanced at her elbow, wincing. “Ouch, that looks like it hurts,” he said, pointing to the blood dripping onto the pavement. She had
n’t realized she’d even been hurt until that moment, and suddenly the sharp pain ripped through her.

  She nodded, holding her opposite sleeve under the wound. “Yeah, it does.”

  He nodded his head in the opposite direction. “I live right around the corner. I can get that cleaned up if you want.”

  She bit her lip, knowing it had to be a horrible decision. If she couldn’t go home with a strange man in Darlington, she surely shouldn’t be going home with a stranger in New York. But her arm hurt. And she was still a twenty-minute cab ride away from her aunt’s house. Which meant she’d have to walk through the streets, bleeding all over the place until she found a place to buy some gauze and medical tape. Add that to the fact that she was dead broke without a purse and he was insanely gorgeous, and you can understand why she followed him back.

  Or…maybe you wouldn’t. Maybe she’d just lost that much blood.

  Either way, within minutes, she was walking up the stairs to his apartment building. He turned around as they climbed the stairs, constantly checking on her. “You still okay?”

  She nodded, applying pressure as she continued to lose blood. Finally, they reached his door and he turned the key. He didn’t bother saying ‘excuse the mess’ like she was accustomed to in the South, though his place certainly was a mess. Empty beer bottles lined the countertop behind her, dress shirts had been thrown lazily over the back of the couch, and there was a pizza box on the coffee table. Maybe it was just a bachelor’s pad. Blythe had never been in one, so she wouldn’t know the difference.

  The man held out his hand. “Wait here,” he said, disappearing down a hallway and appearing a few moments later with a bottle of alcohol and some bandages. “I don’t have a whole lot, but this should help until you can get home.” He took hold of her arm, twisting it cautiously so he could see the wound. He pulled her toward the kitchen sink, which was just across the open room, and grabbed a towel from his drawer. He wiped her arm, stopping as she winced.

  “It’s okay,” she assured him through gritted teeth, ignoring the sting as he poured the alcohol onto the cut. “What’s your name, by the way?” she asked, feeling like she should at least know that.

  He smiled up at her from behind a strand of dark hair. “Finn,” he said. “I’m Finn.”

  Finn. She turned the name over in her head. It was unique. Unconventional. She wondered if it was short for something—Finley, perhaps. He didn’t look like a Finley, but Finn seemed to fit. “Well, thank you, Finn, for saving me.”

  He let out a soft laugh as he wrapped the bandage around her arm. “I’m not sure I technically saved you, but I’m happy to help anyway…” He trailed off, raising his brow as if to ask for her name.

  “Blythe,” she introduced herself.

  “Well, I’m happy to help, Blythe.” His touch lingered on her arm, though he was done with the bandage at that point. He tucked a piece of his dark hair behind his ear, and she smiled at him, noticing the way his gaze burned into hers. The smolder, she would dub that look.

  He let go of her arm suddenly, wadding up the paper from the bandage and tossing it into the trash. “So, do you live around here?”

  She shook her head. “This is actually my first time in New York.”

  He nodded, as if she was confirming something he already suspected. “Nice. I figured. You seem…Southern.”

  “Well, that’s not hard to assume, with the accent,” she said, trying to mask it. “I’m definitely Southern. What about you? You’re from here, obviously. But…have you always lived here?”

  He smirked. “No, not always.”

  He wasn’t giving her anything else, and neither was she. They were at a stand-off, staring into each other’s eyes and feeling the electricity pulse between them. At least, she was feeling the electricity pulsing. Was it just her imagination?

  He closed his eyes for a half-second, and when he opened them, his lips parted. Time seemed to stand still, as she, being the Southern Belle that she was, waited for him to make a move. He didn’t. Instead, he cleared his throat.

  “Well, I…um, I was going to go grab some dinner when I ran into you. Do you…want to join me?”

  She took a breath, suddenly out of her trance. “Oh, I don’t know.”

  “Come on,” he dared her. “It’s just dinner. Then I’ll walk you to wherever you’re staying.”

  She didn’t agree, but before she knew it, he was leading her out of his apartment anyway, his hand on her arm. His touch felt good to a girl who’d been untouched for so long. She followed him down all four flights of stairs and back onto the street.

  “So,” he said, turning to look at her, “what do you like?”

  The answer in her head was a resounding ‘you,’ but that wasn’t what he was asking.

  * * *

  An hour later, they were finally sitting at a table in a small Italian restaurant where the owner knew Finn by name. A happy-looking waitress brought over a plate of bread and took their orders. Finn recommended a type of pasta and a drink she’d never heard of, and she gladly took his advice.

  When the waitress left, Finn leaned forward, tearing off a piece of bread and staring at her as he popped it into his mouth. “So,” he said once his mouth was empty, “tell me what brought you to New York.”

  She laughed. “Ahh…The Big Apple?”

  His forehead wrinkled in a playful scowl. “Yeah, no one calls it that.”

  “Point taken,” she said.

  “You didn’t answer my question,” he said, not buying into her distraction.

  She nodded, taking in a breath. “Well, I’m from Texas.”

  “Of course you are,” he muttered under his breath, not breaking eye contact.

  “And, well, I grew up in a town near Austin…but my house burned down last year and took both of my parents with it.”

  His face remained still, though his eyes softened. “I’m so sorry, Blythe.”

  She nodded, used to empty apologies. It seemed like all anyone knew to say when they heard the news, and she guessed she couldn’t blame them. What else was there to say, anyway? “Thank you,” she said simply.

  “So, you came to New York for a fresh start?”

  She shrugged. “Well, Texas may be large, but Darlington is very small…and it starts to feel exceedingly so after a while. I got tired of everyone seeing me as ‘that poor girl who lost her parents,’ you know? It was hard enough without everyone around me knowing about it.”

  His eyes narrowed, lips in a thin line. “I know that feeling all too well.”

  “Oh really? You’re a poor, small-town girl, too?” she joked.

  She didn’t expect a laugh, but when it came, it was warm and filled the space of the room. “Yeah, something like that,” he said, raising his eyebrows as if her joke had surprised him.

  “Well, anyway, my aunt lives just outside the city. She told me I could come stay with her for a while if I wanted. While I try to get everything figured out.”

  “What’s…everything?”

  “I mean, what I’m going to do next. I always thought I’d live in Texas my whole life. But now…I can do anything I want. It sounds freeing, but it’s kind of terrifying.”

  “I get that,” he agreed, and something told her he truly did. Before they could say anything else, the waitress appeared with their plates and drinks, setting them in front of the couple with a charming smile before disappearing toward the kitchen.

  “This looks delicious,” she said, picking up a fork.

  “So, what do you want?” he asked, and for a moment she had to think about what he was asking.

  “Oh, you mean in life?”

  He smirked. “Yeah, in life.”

  “I have no idea,” she answered honestly, shoving a forkful of food into her mouth. God, she was starving. “I’m just trying not to think about it. On top of trying not to think about how the hell I’m going to get away from my aunt as soon as possible.”

  “You two don’t get along?”
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  “Oh, we get along fine. About as fine as can be expected.”

  “Meaning…” He trailed off, waiting for her to fill in the blank she shouldn’t have left.

  She rolled her eyes. “Meaning my aunt thinks I’m a trollop.”

  He snorted, nearly inhaling his food. As he pulled the fork from his mouth, his eyes wide, he let out a scoff. “Excuse me? A trollop?”

  She smiled, waving a hand over her head. “Unfortunately, yes. That’s the exact word she used. I’m pretty sure she thinks I’m the devil incarnate coming to live at her house and bring her to the dark side. She’s just…she’s uber religious, and anyone who’d dare wear blue jeans must be up to something naughty,” she said, imitating her aunt’s nagging voice as best she could.

  He took another bite, seemingly calm. “Well, lucky you, coming to New York then, huh? You’ll fit right in.”

  She caught a twinkle in his eye that made her stomach lurch. Something told her she would definitely be fitting right in.

  * * *

  At the end of the date, Finn covered the bill, even though Blythe insisted she’d cover her half. Luckily he did, because, as she kept forgetting, her wallet was in her purse, which she remembered again, had been stolen.

  They walked out of the restaurant together, his arm brushing hers occasionally in a way that made her wonder if he was trying to hold her hand.