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“I don’t mind. Let’s go.”
Leanne had driven us to the park after she picked my sorry ass out of my office upstairs, which is where I’ve pretty much lived for the past six months. I find that drowning myself in work is a very effective way to deal with my sorrows and all the things I really don’t want to spend time dwelling on.
The minute we walk in the door, I know something is off. For one, the door wasn’t locked. I was sure I told Leanne to twist the lock on the inside handle before we left. I should have double-checked. Second, the lights are all off, and I’m also sure I left them on.
“Shit, I forgot my phone in the car,” Leanne mutters right after we walk in. She turns and pretty much flies out the front door. It’s still open, and when I go to shut it, I frown as I watch her get into her car and take off.
Did she leave her phone in the park or something?
I shut the door and lock it, all the while shaking my head. She’ll probably come back in a few minutes with her phone, wherever she left it. I take off my winter boots and place them on the tray at the front door. They’re soaking wet on the underside, and I know I’ll have a mess on the tray to clean up after. I shed my jacket, throwing it onto the couch before I walk into the kitchen to start making those hot chocolates Leanne requested.
I’m so focused on trying to warm up my frozen hands by vigorously rubbing them together—and anxious to get to the kettle to start boiling water—that I almost miss the cake sitting right in the middle of the table.
When I do, I stop so abruptly that I nearly fall on my face. I catch myself with the back of one of the chairs and stare at the black cake. Of course, it’s black, and it’s in the shape of a spider. And there, in the middle of the big spider with all the black icing, is a red heart.
“Lu-Anne.”
“Jesus!” I whirl, slamming my hand over my racing heart.
Wade is standing behind me. His deep voice scared the living bejesus out of me. I inhale a few rapid breaths, trying to steady myself, but all I get is a whiff of his enticing, manly smell. He looks good. The past six months have been kind to him. He looks pretty much the same—deliciously handsome. He’s wearing a black hoodie without the hood up, and a pair of jeans. They look broken in and comfortable. Essentially, he looks exactly the same.
“What the heck are you doing in my house?” I gasp when I finally realize how creepy this is.
“Leanne helped me with that,” Wade admits guiltily. “She left the door unlocked for me and took you out of the house for a while to distract you so I could get the cake in here. Well, and myself.”
“Leanne,” I mutter indignantly. Suddenly the frigid walk of doom and her hasty retreat makes a whole lot of sense.
“I got her to help me because I didn’t think you’d want to talk to me. You made it pretty clear the last time about how you felt.”
“So, you thought you would disrespect that by just barging your way in here and tricking me?”
“When you put it that way, I guess so.” Wade’s face falls. “Should I leave? This was pretty shitty, wasn’t it?”
I start gnawing on my bottom lip without even realizing what I’m doing. I want to tell him to leave. I do. Okay, fine, so maybe I don’t. Maybe I am secretly pleased he did this stalkerish, creepy thing. I know he’s not creepy. I know he’s not crazy. And I know he did this to get my attention. He’s right. I probably would have just shut the door in his face.
The thing is, I haven’t forgotten. I haven’t forgotten the way it felt to be with him. Not just in an intimate way, but the truly intimate moments we shared together. The way it felt to do little things like enjoy breakfast or laugh, and how it felt just to have him near. How it felt so right in a way that I’d never truly known anything could be.
And being a couple of feet away from him now, it’s pretty easy to remember how I felt because I’m starting to feel it again. My insides are doing funny things, and even though I shouldn’t, I know I’m already letting my guard down because I just can’t keep it up with him around, which was why I distanced myself. I had to protect myself and my heart because I knew I was already letting him in. I was already crumbling and changing and experiencing something I never thought would happen to me. I was scared. I was scared I would get hurt because I knew those few days we spent together, and the few brief encounters before that were leading up to something monumental. At least for me, and I needed to cut it off before it led to hurt that I didn’t know if I could handle.
