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“Us?” Lydia gripped her knees. “I didn’t know there was an us.”
Steven growled. “The hell there—”
“Dude.” Copper hauled him back again. “Don’t.”
Steven glowered. “Why the hell not?”
“Open your fucking eyes. They’re in love.”
“What?” Steven said, looking back and forth between Lydia and Holt. Neither one spoke. They were too busy having a stare down. “Oh. Shit.”
“Yeah. Exactly.” Cooper slung his arm over Steven’s shoulders. “Come on, I’ll get you a drink…or ten.”
They left, leaving Lydia and Holt alone.
Holt inched closer to Lydia, trying to gauge her reaction to Cooper’s statement about them being in love. He knew how he felt about her, but he didn’t have a fucking clue if she felt that way about him. It was time to find out, one way or another.
She tucked her hair behind her ear and sighed. “You want to talk? Talk.”
“Not here.” He rubbed his temple. It was throbbing like a bitch, but not the way it did before an episode. It was because he knew he had one shot at making her forgive him, and if he fucked it up…it was over. Actually over. “Can we go back to my place?”
“Oh. Right. Your head.” She stared at the spot he’d rubbed. “Are you—?”
He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m fine.”
Standing, he held his hand down for her. She hesitated, but then slid her fingers into his. He pulled her to her feet, but didn’t release her.
He never wanted to let go again.
And I won’t.
“Let’s go.” She bit her lip. “Once you take your pill, you’ve got five minutes, and then…I go home. That’s all I’m willing to give right now.”
He flinched. “Okay.”
They headed for the parking lot, not speaking. He’d give anything to know what she was thinking. What was going through her head. He knew he’d hurt her, but he could make it better. He knew exactly how to make it better, if she’d give him the chance. And he’d never stop making it better until the day he died.
When he started leading her to his truck, she dug her heels in. “I’ll take my car, and you take yours.”
He nodded once, despite the fact that he didn’t want to separate from her for even a minute. He’d been a starved man without her, dying for her smile. Her laugh. Her touch. The last thing he wanted to do was watch her walk away…again.
“All right.”
As he walked her to her car and opened the door for her, she pressed her lips together and slid into the seat. “Thanks.”
Nodding, he walked over to his truck. As he started it, he took a deep breath and stared at himself in the mirror. His reflection watched him judgmentally, narrowing his eyes. “What the fuck are you looking at?” he murmured. “You’re as much of a screw-up as I am.”
Shaking his head, he reversed and led the way back to his apartment, checking the rearview mirror every so often. Lydia followed him, her face impassive and pretty damn pissed off, as she should be. He’d acted as if she didn’t matter to him, when she did. That had been wrong, and he knew it now. He’d learned that lesson the hard way. But he could fix it.
He had to.
Chapter Eighteen
Lydia pulled into Holt’s driveway, her fingers tight on the steering wheel. The whole afternoon had been warped and twisted and confusing as heck. One second she’d been running from Holt, not wanting to see him or hear his voice at all. And the next, he’d been kissing her and begging for a chance to explain himself.
She didn’t know how she felt about that yet. Or about him. Or her. Or anything, really, because her thoughts were all mixed up. And so were her feelings.
Those were a mixture of dread and anger. And hurt, too, because if he’d truly tried to break it off with her so she could be free, then that pissed her off. She was done with men telling her what was best for her. She got enough of that from Steven.
