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End… I didn’t like that word, and just thinking about it made my gut clench all over again. I pulled off my helmet and took in several deep breaths. When I felt I could stand without falling on my ass, I climbed off my bike and headed toward Panther’s room.
Just knock on his door and tell him you’re sorry. It seemed so easy when I thought about it like that. But when I reached his door, I found myself frozen, confused, disoriented, and wondering how the hell I’d ended up standing on this side of the door.
Shoving that thought aside, I took in another breath and knocked. Then I waited.
I waited, and waited, and when there was nothing—not even footsteps behind the door—I knocked again, and again, and again.
Still nothing.
Fuck.
“Panther!” I called out, and began banging on the door, desperate for him to hear me out. “Panther? Are you in there?”
I rested my forehead on the door and shut my eyes.
Come on, Panther, I thought, hoping by some miracle I’d hear him coming closer, that I’d hear him unlock the door. But when all that greeted me was more silence, I cursed myself for the fool I was.
What did I expect? That he’d open the door and welcome me inside? I’d done everything in my power to drive a wedge between us, so I didn’t know why I was so shocked that I’d succeeded.
I took a step back and was stunned to find my vision had blurred. I wanted back in there. Not just in that room, and behind that door, but back in the arms and heart of the man inside. I made a promise to myself right then and there that I wouldn’t rest until I was.
22 Panther
SEVENTEEN HOURS—NO, that was wrong. It’d been seventeen hours, thirty-five minutes, and approximately fifteen seconds since my entire world had gone to hell in a handbasket. I stepped inside the classroom for this morning’s brief, scanned the room for Solo, and wasn’t surprised to find his usual seat empty.
Damn Solo. I had no idea what had gotten into him over the last few days, but after yesterday’s blowup, I was done trying to work it out. If he didn’t see that what we had was something worth fighting for, then there was nothing I could, or would, do about it. Blaming me for the problems in his life? Accusing me of using him to win and get back at my father? He was fucking delusional and not the man I’d come to know.
I’d shut off my phone as soon as I walked back into my room yesterday, then woken up this morning with missed calls and texts that I didn’t bother to read. I assumed it was also Solo beating my door down last night while I slept. Maybe that meant he’d thought it over and realized what a selfish, narrow-minded asshole he’d been.
Or maybe he’d just wanted to argue some more.
I dropped into an aisle seat beside Houdini, not wanting to give Solo an opportunity to get close enough to pick a fight. All I’d wanted was to spend time with the bastard while we still could, but he just had to be stubborn and fuck everything up, didn’t he? I didn’t understand his about-face, but I didn’t have to. It was obvious he wanted to blame me for everything going wrong, including, somehow, his loss to Utah, which I knew wasn’t the real source of whatever was going on.
Just forget him right now. Go back to focusing on why you’re here.
Easier said than done, especially when the scent of Solo’s body wash and cologne wafted by as he headed down the aisle to his usual seat. My whole body went rigid as I watched him. It was completely unfair the way he looked even better in person than when I thought of him. Even a picture wouldn’t do him justice. Not the way his dark hair spiked a bit in the front, or the golden brown of his sun-kissed skin. Or the way anything he wore molded so perfectly to every lean muscle that you could practically picture him naked.
Solo settled into his chair, flipping his pen through his fingers. When he glanced over his shoulder at me, I schooled my expression and averted my gaze. No need for him to see my emotions playing out all over my face, not when feelings were the last thing I needed to focus on.
“Hey, man.” Houdini leaned in and nodded in Solo’s direction. “What’s goin’ on?”
I shrugged, and he rolled his eyes.
“Trouble in paradise with you and Solo?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“But—”
“Give it a fucking rest,” I snapped, and Houdini reared back, brows raised.
“Okay then.”
I knew I was being an asshole, but I just needed to get through the day without thinking about, or talking about, Solo.
