“You’re not giving me a chance to show you that I’ve changed,” he interjected.
Lark sighed. “I’m at work. This isn’t the time.”
She turned her back, intent on walking away from her ex. Tommy stopped her by reaching out and gripping her upper arm with enough force that Lark winced.
That was when Grayson reached his breaking point, something sharp and protective rising inside him. He crossed the tasting room, reaching them within seconds.
He grabbed Tommy’s forearm, his expression black. “Let her go.”
Tommy freed her instantly. But Lark, who’d already been tugging herself free, hadn’t expected the quick release, so she stumbled to the side.
Right into Grayson’s arms.
He blinked a few times, waiting for…
This wasn’t right. Something was wrong.
He didn’t have time to focus on that, since Lark immediately pushed away from him. Grayson tried to steer her behind him, determined to serve as a shield between Lark and her ex, but she shook off his effort and stepped in front of him, her eyes narrowed to slits.
Fortunately, her ire wasn’t directed at Grayson but Tommy. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to be so rough. I just…” Tommy raked a hand through his hair. “I hate this, babe. Hate that we’re not together, that you don’t want to see or talk to me anymore.”
Lark crossed her arms. “I know you’re used to getting your way all the time.” She turned to Grayson, directing her aside to him. “Curse of being an only child.” Then she looked back at Tommy. “But you’re going to have to accept that this,” she wagged her pointer finger between them, “is never going to happen.”
“I think you should go, Tommy,” Grayson growled.
“No offense, Grayson, but this is between me and my girlfriend.”
“Ex-girlfriend,” Lark corrected coldly. Grayson was impressed by her strength and conviction. Jace had told him she’d wavered in the past. Lark had admitted the same at the festival. But this time, she seemed determined to follow through. “And he’s right. You should leave.”
Tommy’s shoulders fell, and suddenly the man was the poster child for dejection. “Lark.”
“Don’t come around here again,” she added.
“Show up one more time uninvited and we’ll serve you with no-trespass papers,” Grayson warned him.
Tommy nodded, cheeks red as he turned and headed for the door, and Grayson thought—or perhaps hoped—that finally, this time, the man had gotten the message. He was proud of Lark for standing her ground.
However, that pride gave way to fury when he spotted the red finger marks Tommy had left on her arm. The fucker had grabbed her hard.
“Shit, Lark. Are you okay?” Grayson reached for her arm, lifting it to gently run his fingers over the marks.
And that was when he felt it again.
Or, more precisely, didn’t feel it.
No lightning, no awareness, no devastating certainty.
The absence hit him like a fist straight to the gut. Ever since they’d returned from the festival, everything about Lark had felt off. He’d tried to chalk it up to work—harvest time was brutal, they both had busy schedules, etcetera. But every day since they’d come home, that certainty he’d felt about Lark being the one had faded more and more.
And now?
Now, there was nothing left at all.
“I’m fine,” she murmured, but Grayson barely registered the words. His world had tilted sideways…again. Just not in the same way it had at the festival.
That fateful day, one touch from Lark had nearly brought him to his knees. He’d felt it all the way to his soul.
