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Asher
Watching Poppy walk away with slumped shoulders is one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to see. I want to go to her and pull her into my arms and promise to never let anything hurt her again, but I know that’s the last thing she needs right now from me. I know she hates and fears me because of what transpired earlier. I don’t blame her, but it still hurts like a bitch. Seeing the fear in her eyes and having her confirm that fear, knowing I put that fear there, sucked all the breath from my lungs. I’ve never felt such pain as I did when she said I was scaring her. This is part of the reason why I waited so long to come forward. I just hope I’m so deep in her heart she can eventually forgive me and learn to trust me again.
I don’t want to leave Texas. This is the place I finally got to be myself with Poppy. It’s the place that I showed her my true feelings. The past few days have been some of the best in my life. But I know she needs time.
I walk back out on the balcony and grab my bottle of scotch, foregoing the glass this time. I take a swallow straight from the bottle as I walk to my room to pack my stuff. I slip on a black T-shirt and shoes and carry my suitcase out to the elevator, setting it beside Poppy’s. I look over at her door and see it still closed. I wonder what she’s doing in there. My heart begs me to check on her, but my head tells me I shouldn’t. I knew this was going to hurt when I told her who I was and what I’ve done, but I had no idea the pain would be so debilitating.
I take my half-empty bottle and carry it into the kitchen. After taking a few more hefty swallows, I set the bottle down on the counter. My eyes swing back to Poppy’s closed door. I need to tell her we need to leave to meet the jet, but if I’m honest with myself, I’m scared to see the look on her face. It damn near broke me before.
Manning up, I walk over to her door and tap on it lightly. She doesn’t answer, but I hear her sniffles on the other side. The pain in my chest intensifies.
Fuck, this hurts!
When she doesn’t bid me entrance, I pull in a deep breath, grab the knob, and push the door open. She’s lying on her side on the bed, her face buried in a bundled up sheet. Knowing it’s the sheet from my bed, my heart jumps at the knowledge she has to be smelling my scent right now. It takes everything in me not to go over, crawl into bed behind her and snuggle my face in her hair. Instead, I walk over slowly, not wanting to scare her. She still has yet to lift her head so I’m not sure if she knows I’m in the room. Her muffled sobs get louder the closer I get, sending sharp stabs of pain to the center of my chest.
My damn hands shake as I reach out and gently place one on her shoulder. Her body stiffens and she jerks away before turning to her back and showing me her tearstained face.
“Fuck,” I whisper hoarsely. My legs are no longer able to hold me up, so I drop to my knees beside the bed.
Seeing her in such agony and knowing it’s my fault is pure torture. I feel like the lowest bastard on the planet right now.
“I’m so fucking sorry,” I tell her in a low voice, dropping my head in shame.
She sits up and scoots back until she hits the headboard. She wipes at her eyes and tries to clear her face, but she’s not able to mask the ache in her eyes. It still lingers.
Still clutching the pillow to her chest, she says brokenly, “What are you doing in here? I told you—”
“I knocked,” I murmur. “But you didn’t answer. We need to leave. The jet will be at the airstrip soon.”
She eyes me warily for several seconds, before nodding and scooting to the other side of the bed and climbing off. She won’t even get close to me to get off the fucking bed.
Helplessly, I stand and follow her out of the room and walk over to the elevator where our stuff waits. When she tries to grab her suitcase and carry-on bag, I wordlessly take them from her. She tries to protest, but with a determined look from me, she backs off and steps into the elevator. She may be pissed at me, and I may be giving her time to come to grips with everything, but that doesn’t mean I won’t act like a gentleman.
The ride down is silent. I keep looking over at her, hoping she’ll look at me and give me some hope that this whole mess can be salvaged, but she keeps her eyes on the doors in front of her. I have no idea how I’m going make it through the next several days. Obviously, I need to remove the cameras from her house and the tracking device from her car. There’s no way I can keep them there now. It’s Sunday, so that means tomorrow is Monday, a work day, but I get the sense Poppy won’t be there. Regardless if she is or not, I’m not giving up. I refuse to believe this is over. There’s no way I’ll ever let it be. She’s clawed her way into my heart and there’s no way she’ll ever be able to get free of me. I won’t ever let that happen.
Once we make it to the tarmac, I lead a still silent Poppy aboard the plane. I greet the new attendant, Devin, glad to be rid of the aggravating Seraphina, and let him know we’re ready to take off as soon as Captain Hayes is ready.
When I walk Poppy to the seats we were sitting in before, she steps away and says, “I’d rather sit over here,” before dropping her purse to the aisle seat and sitting down next to the window, effectively letting me know I’m not welcome. I let her have her space for now, and take the aisle seat across from her. She stops Devin when he walks past and asks for three shots of liquor. I hate knowing she’ll be over there stressing over the flight on top of her hurting over what I did. Devin delivers the shots and she downs them back to back. She keeps her head facing the window, never looking my way.
I pull out my phone when I hear it ring in my pocket.
“You got something?” I ask after bringing it to my ear.
“Some guy wearing a black hoodie was lurking around her place,” Rex’s gruff voice replies. “He moved around to the back of the property. When I went to go confront the bastard, I don’t know if he caught wind of me or what, but he just disappeared. Not a fucking trace of him.”
“Son of a bitch,” I mutter, rubbing a hand over my hair. “We’ve got to catch this asshole. Things aren’t good on my end at the moment.”
“Trouble in paradise?” he asks dryly. I grind my teeth at his smart-ass comment.
“Nothing you need to worry about,” I bark. “You just worry about getting this guy. We’re heading home early. I want two men on her at all times.”
“You got it.”
“And, Rex? I want to see this guy before you turn him in.”
“There won’t be much left when I get through with him, but I’ll leave a few open spots for you.”
Once we hang up, I toss my phone to the empty seat beside me. Looking over, I see Poppy’s head turned my way, eyeing me. I can tell the alcohol has hit because her eyes look heavy. They flicker away from me down to the seat where my phone is sitting. I doubt she heard my conversation because the engines of the jet have already started, but she still looks worried. My guess is my own worry is reflected in my eyes. She looks like she wants to ask me what’s wrong, but she holds her tongue and looks back to the window. I’m glad she doesn’t ask, because I don’t want to lie to her any more than I already have, but I also don’t want to add to her stress by telling her someone was at her place again.
