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He came for me.
He’s mad and he’s hurt, and rightfully so…
And yet…
He’s here.
Stillhere, six months later, despite thinking I’d moved on.
That has to mean something.
I have to make it mean something.
CHAPTERTHIRTY-SIX
SKYLER
After what feels like the longest two hours I’ve ever had to endure—and that’s saying a lot—last call is announced and the final dancer—Zelda—finishes her routine, drawing the night to a close.
The club empties, and it doesn’t escape me that at some point while I was distracted, Nolan disappeared. All night, I’ve felt his hot gaze tracking my every move, so when it’s suddenly gone, I feel more exposed and vulnerable than I ever thought I’d feel.
I didn’t realize how much I’ve missed being held hostage by his all-consuming attention. It makes me blind to any and everything but him. His gaze. His scent. His smell. His big, looming body standing guard, right where I need him to be. There to swoop in and save the day…save me from myself…
Maybe it’s wrong, to crave to be possessed as much as I crave to be possessed by him.
But if it is…
Then I don’t want to be right.
I want him to own me and take me and make me forget what it ever felt like to be alone. Empty. Adrift.
“You coming home tonight?” Micah asks me as we step out into the frigid night. The snow is falling heavily now, blanketing the world in glimmering white.
I open my mouth, looking around, unsure suddenly.
Nolan told me we’d talk after, but he disappeared about ten minutes to close.
Zelda chuckles, blowing out a stream of smoke up into the night. I follow to where she points her finger, only vaguely hearing her say, “Nope, definitely not.”
Across the street, Nolan stands in front of a black monster of a pick-up truck, hands stuffed in his pockets. A denim jacket lined with fur hanging loosely over his shoulders and down his sides. Over his long, tangled dark hair, he wears a navy beanie.
My mouth dries.
For a second, I’m sort of just struck stupid by the contrast of this scene compared to the first time I saw this man, storming across the beach in his thin white t-shirt and ripped jeans, barefoot and drenched with the rain coming down.
Micah sighs. “Ah, young love.” Throwing an arm over Zelda’s shoulder, he gives me a mock salute and turns away, leading them down Main toward their apartment.
Rolling my lips together, I wrap my bulky winter coat tighter around me and glance both ways down the street.
Nolan steps away from the truck, meeting me nearly halfway.
“Hi,” he says, mouth quirked.
I chew the corner of my lip and manage to rasp a quiet, “Hi,” back.
Glancing down, he frowns. “Where the fuck are your boots?”
I teeter from heel to heel, staring down at my red Chucks. “It’s part of my uniform.”
