Page 67 of Lost to Thievery
No one was worthy of her.
I walked past the spectre of Becket on his knees, cuffed and crying in the crowd.
I grinded my teeth together. He loves her, there was no doubt about it. How could he not, after spending so much time with her? And as much as it gagged me to admit, maybe he would have been good enough for Ava if he wasn’t so fucking pathetic at protecting her.
I reached the scarf stall and slid behind the wall of material, moving them just enough so I could see her. I watched her run her fingers over a deep emerald silk scarf. It would look stunning on her. She continued browsing, stepping closer and closer, making my heart thump harder and harder.
Ava pulled her sleeve up, studying her arm. Goosebumps. Was it because of me? She looked around, scanning the crowdsalmost frantically. Did she sense me? She shook her head dismissively, rubbing at her arms in irritation.
The recklessness I was always battling roared in me as Ava stood right in front of me, her back to me, smoothing her fingers over another silk scarf. I wanted to sweep her up in my arms and never let go. I wanted to fall to my knees and beg her for forgiveness, beg her to return to me and let me love her again.
I stepped out behind the wall of shawls, my heart beating against my ribs, like it could make me move closer to her.
Jeez!I balled my fists, trying to control my stupid urges.
Breathe, fucker.
I leaned forward, breathing in the scent of her hair, like a fucking pervert. My throat constricted as the smell of pine trees and berries washed through me, waking a plethora of memories and emotions that clawed at my psyche, ready to overrun my mind in the cruellest and most saccharine way.
I grinded my teeth together, battling my mind into submission. It was a dangerous time to lose myself. She was so close. She could turn at any moment.
But I didn’t move like I was supposed to. I was drunk on her presence, her smell. I didn’t care one fucking bit if she turned and saw me. Iwantedher to see me. I wanted her to wrap her arms around me and let me bury my face in the crook of her neck—my favourite place in this godforsaken world.
My hand moved of its own accord as I battled with the longing, reaching out to her.
One touch. Just one.
I let my finger brush against her hand, ever so lightly, but it still sent a jolt of electricity up my arm, stopping my heart. Even with the crowd constantly brushing against us, Ava felt it too. Her body stiffened, a shiver moving through her. She turned and I quickly stepped behind the wall of scarves, turningto disappear into the crowd as my heart bled into my stomach cavity, creating an excruciating ache.
Breathe, you lunatic fool.
That was stupid. Reckless.
I had to get a hold of myself. I had to remember the reason I’d let go of my little witch in the first place. I couldn’t fuck with her life like this. I had to stay away.
I looked back towards the scarf stall, seeing my baby walk away from it, her brows furrowed in irritation, but her eyes held a sadness that ripped me to shreds.
Goddamn it, I was a selfish prick! Why couldn’t I just leave her alone?
I had always enjoyed Ava’s pain, but notthiskind of pain—the misery that bled through her eyes. I hated every second of it.
I stopped at a flower stall, taking in the bundles of bouquets. Maybe I could do something about it. My eyes locked onto a bouquet of roses that was such a dark burgundy, that it almost looked black. And in the centre were three light pink roses, creating the shape of a heart.
Perfect. Reminiscent of that little light of hers I still carried within myself. A light I refused to let go of. It was the only thing that held me together while everything around me fell apart.
What a sentimental clown I am.
I picked it up and handed it to the old florist who nodded his approval.
“There’s a woman coming this way. The most beautiful woman you will see today. Will you give it to her?” I asked, handing him more than triple the amount of money for the flowers.
The florist chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. “You will have to give me more information than that, son.”
“She has red hair and an olive-coloured shirt. But you’ll know who I’m referring to when you see her.” No eyes could miss her.
The florist nodded, scanning the crowd.
“Whatever you do, don’t mention me,” I warned, slipping into the chaos once more, as Ava drew closer.
