“It’s okay, it was the heat of the moment. It meant nothing,” I mutter as I take a step toward the door. I watch as hisface crumbles and he grabs the back of his neck with one hand.
“But what if it meanteverything?” he whispers, and my chest cracks wide open. The fissure that has been there for months is a full cavern now.
The banging on the door gets louder, so I turn to unlock it. The door flies open, and some girl gives me a dirty look before running into one of the two stalls, not bothering to look at Kane.
I refuse to turn around for fear I’ll never walk away if I do.
“This isn’t over, Avery. We’re not over,” I hear behind me, his voice low, absolution taking over his tone. The words cause me to pause before I take a breath and walk out.
I grab my purse from the table and ignore the imploring look Morgan throws my way as I head outside to feel the cool breeze blow against my sweat-soaked skin. A shiver works its way up my spine as I hurry toward my car.
Grateful I had the foresight to drive myself here in case I needed a quick escape from my date, I throw my door open and cast a glance back at the bar, hoping that I’ll spot a broad-shouldered man with black hair following me out—needingto see him come after me.
When I realize no one is coming, a familiar ache rips through my chest. On a shaky breath, I get in the car as tears well up in my eyes. I take a few breaths to center myself before I throw the car in reverse and head for home, my mind and the radio silent as the neighborhoods blur by.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
kane
If I Ever Saw Heaven – Roan Ash
“Fuck!” I yell as I burst through the kitchen back room and slide down the wall that houses our supply lists before I hang my head in my hands.
I fucked up.
I know I fucked up. I just couldn’t see clearly—all I saw was red. My vision tunneled as his hands touched her as if he had some right to, as if he had some claim to be touchingmygirl.
In that moment, all I could think was that I had to get his hands off her so I could breathe again, until I looked down and saw the look on her face—she was pissed. So I reacted the way any rational man would and followed her. I didn’t mean to invade her space, but I can’t go on much longer without talking.
This permanent ache has filled my chest these past weeks, growing with all the small moments we’ve had together—the pranks, my parents’ party, the picture I stole and taped to my bathroom mirror, where it taunts me everymorning, reminding me exactly what I’m fighting for every day.
I gave her space for weeks. Ikeptgiving her space, but that’s no longer going to work for me. So I followed her, and I was going to demand she finally talk to me—to clear the air after my parents’ house, and the kisses we shared in between, and then her being on that goddamn date.
We were at a crossroads, and I saw her standing there, a fucking goddess burning me with her gaze, so I snapped. I touched her, and my hands still feel the ghost of her skin under them. It felt like fucking heaven. The moans she made, the fiery look in her eye, the way pushing into her felt like coming home after years away.
It had always been explosive when we were together. Sometimes our sex life took a back seat to life and circumstances, but that never dulled how fucking perfect we were together. The second I was inside her, every thought vanished, and she consumed me from the inside out. I could live inside her and never tire of the way she feels.
Fuck, I feel myself hardening and the shame of the night eats at me all over again.
I’m still lost in my haze when the back door I just stormed through bursts open and shoes appear in my sight. A pair of shoes I could recognize anywhere, with the black heart on the toe, fill my vision. I brace myself for what he’s about to say.
“You can’t be back here,” I mutter dejectedly to the shoes, hoping I see them walk right back out. I’m in no mood to explain.
“You really got yourself into it, didn’t you?”
I pick my head up and look at Marcus. “Over four years ago, or just now?”
“Well, I would say about three months ago when you letthat girl walk out of the house, then refused to tell anyone what happened, but sure, I’ll let you live in your delusions for a couple more seconds and say now,” he quips while sitting on the floor next to me. I rest my forearms on my knees and let my head fall back onto the wall, staring at the square tile ceiling.
“I just saw some other guy with my girl, and I lost it,” I sigh, hoping that sums up every emotion that has flitted through my body since.
“Okay, so you let your anger talk for you, and she’s not your girl. If I remember correctly.” Marcus mirrors my stance and turns his head toward me. I quickly look at him with murder in my eyes, jaw clenched as I try not to hit my best friend as he chuckles and continues, “All right, so if she’s your girl…what have you been waiting for?”
“Her.She wanted space.” I falter, the anger fading.
“Fuck that, Kane. I know you’re not that dumb. I’ve never been in a relationship—not for lack of trying.But even I know when a woman asks for space you better get as close to them as possible and find out what’s wrong. Jesus, don’t make me call my mother and have her explain this to you. I remember I was twelve and had just stumbled inside from the yard, a warm spring day and finally headed to grab my afternoon Capri-Sun. I had just reached in the fridge when I heard a sniffle—my sister had run upstairs from the front door while yelling down at my mom about needing space. So she sat me down, and she said ‘Marcus, my son, my favorite child?—’”
“Has anyone told you to get to the point sooner?” I interject, the urge to punch my best friend strong.
