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Halo darted up the next set of steps as I climbed the first, going two at a time in a race to reach him, and with my eyes firmly on him, I had the advantage. I could see the distance between us, he couldn’t, and every time he glanced back to see where I was, he slowed, until we got to the final set and I closed in. He was almost home free and out the door, but just as his hand landed on the door handle, I reached for him and my fingers caught his wrist.
The contact sent an electric jolt through me, and him too, judging by the way his head whipped around, and I took full advantage of the distraction. I tightened my fingers until I had a firm hold of him, and when I was finally opposite him, I tugged on his hand, drawing him to me.
Halo clamped a hand down over my fingers and pried them off his wrist, but I turned my hand, caught hold of his, and pulled him toward me with so much force that he stumbled and put a hand up to brace himself. As his palm landed on my chest, right over my heart, I wondered if he could feel how hard it was pounding. I wondered if he knew it was for him and if he even cared. Then Halo angled his face up, his eyes flashing with fury as he dug his fingers into me as hard as he could and shoved me away from him. I was caught off guard; my grip on him loosened, and he yanked his arm free. Then he took a step back, his eyes trained on me with a fuck you look if ever I’d seen one, as he reached behind him for the door and shoved down on the handle.
Halo turned, pushed the door open, and stormed outside, a clear dismissal, but I followed after him. I must’ve been possessed or some shit, because I was not about to let him get away from me. I needed to touch him, talk to him, and somehow make him understand that every fucked-up thing I’d said to him tonight was for the best. I’d done this for him.
Halo stopped a couple of feet away from me, and as he stood there with his back to me, looking out at the city lights, the message was clear: go away. That wasn’t going to happen, though, and as I came up behind him, his shoulders tensed.
The words were on the tip of my tongue, the ones I never said to anyone, ever: I’m sorry. Two words, only seven letters, and yet they were the hardest to say in the entire English language.
Halo still had his back to me, though, so I moved up beside him, but even though I didn’t touch him, he jerked away as though I had. Before he could move again, I grasped at his arm and spun him so that his back was against the concrete. I needed his attention, not for him to try to disappear, so I pushed my hips against his, locking him in place.
That move was one the angel would’ve liked had the past few hours never happened. But since I’d gone and fucked us to hell, Halo now strained against my hold, his chest rising and falling rapidly, like he couldn’t get enough air with me this close. He wouldn’t look at me. Almost nose to nose, and his eyes were everywhere except where I wanted them.
I held his chin and waited until he looked at me. At first he refused, but I told myself to be patient, and it wasn’t long before those pale green eyes finally settled on mine. When they did, I opened my mouth to say those two words, those seven letters, but before they could come out, Halo pulled an arm free and clapped his hand over my lips.
Stunned, I could only stare at him as he shook his head, unwilling to hear me out, to listen to my apology. I’d said more than he wanted to hear tonight, and if I thought I’d felt like the biggest fucking asshole on the planet before, it was nothing like the feeling that seared me then. Because while Halo’s eyes held all of the fury I’d expected to be directed my way, there was a more dominant emotion swirling in the fire: pain.
I inhaled through my nose sharply and dropped my hold on his chin. The look he aimed my way cut deep. God… I’d hurt him. I knew I’d pissed him off, but I’d done a hell of a lot more than that, and as I stared into the depths of all that emotion, I almost wished I’d never gotten a glimpse.
Halo held my gaze, baring it all for me. His palm continued to cover my mouth, his hold firm, but I could feel his fingers shaking slightly. From anger and disappointment? From the tension radiating through his body? From something else?
