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He’s my drug. A living, breathing drug. He’s been gone a little over a week, leaving me all the way across the country to come back here. Now, I’m joining him, which is a nightmare come true for me.
“I missed you too,” I admit although the words come out strangled still and I have to rip my eyes away to stare back out the window.
As if beat-up houses and barren streets were something I’d ever want to look at.
This particular road has stayed with me all my life. As the disquiet forces me to readjust in my seat, I ask Sebastian again, “Are you sure we should be here?”
Tick, tick, goes my heart, then a pause. My heart refuses to do anything at all, leaving a chill to travel down my arms as we pass Dixon Street, and Sebastian gives me a pointed look. We grew up on the same street, this street, but we’ve never lived in the same world.
I don’t know how I fooled myself into thinking running away from here would change that.
“I know this is sudden…” He trails off and reaches his hand for mine, but I’m already crossing my arms so I pretend not to see it.
I swallow my response along with the regret from saying anything at all.
He can comfort me, but he’s ignoring the flashing red light warning that this is exactly what we shouldn’t be doing. I don’t want comfort in that. He can keep it for himself.
“Never mind,” I whisper and my warm breath fogs the window.
As the car moves over a speed bump and then a pothole in the old road, I jostle with it, passively letting the movement take me how it wants.
“How are you feeling?” Bastian’s voice is low and apologetic, yet strong. He’s always strong. Never faltering, never needing to lean on me.
It should be a blessing, but it feels like a curse.
“Second trimester is worlds better,” I tell him and breathe in deep, feeling my shoulders stretch and rise before settling back down against the heated seat. “And I love this car,” I comment.
“Smooth ride, huh?” he says just as we go over another pothole and I have to let out a small laugh at his dry humor and irony.
The second of ease between us is spoiled when we drive past our old high school, filled with haunted memories.
Mostly. The only two days I want to hold on to are the first day he kissed me and the day when we drove away years later. Every other day I spent here can rot in hell.
“It took me years to get over this place,” I tell him, feeling the raw admission scratch up my throat with every word. Like I had to drag them out of me.
A second passes as the car slows to a stop under a red light.
“I know,” Bastian says and this time when he lays his hand down for me to take, his eyes stare at me. His eyes pierce into me, begging me to feel what he feels. “I have to do this, Chlo.”
I can’t resist pulling down the seatbelt to lean over the center console so I can kiss his cheek. His rough stubble is short and it nearly scratches my lips as he tries to capture my own with his. But I avoid the kiss, settling on giving him a peck on the cheek.
Sebastian leans closer to me, ready to take one regardless, I know it.
With the groan of the leather seat protesting the movement of his broad shoulders, I prepare to give him a cheek and nothing more. I just can’t kiss him; I can’t give him that bit of me, not when he’s hurting me the way he is.
He won’t tell me why he has to be here. Why now? Why are we back?
Without a straight answer, things can’t go back to being right between us. I won’t allow it. He needs to know that. And all I know is that it has something to do with Carter Cross.
The red light turns to green as he sits up, and with it the car behind us beeps. Bastian’s focus doesn’t budge, not until I grip his hand. I thread my fingers between his and pull his hand to my lips, kissing the back of his hand as the car behind us beeps again.
Sebastian’s frustration shows with his sharp, narrowed gaze aimed in the rearview mirror at the person behind us.
Always with a temper. What did I expect marrying the man everyone used to fear? He earned his reputation, and some bad habits die hard. The very thought makes me close my eyes with contempt. How could I think they’d died at all?
“Let’s just go.” I push out the rushed words as Bastian sits there, staring in his rearview and ready to pick a fight. “I want to lie down,” I say, giving him the excuse and he buys it. His expression softens, but only slightly.
