Page 15 of Forsaken Hearts
Vander leaned against her vehicle like he had every night before she called it off. Like he had every right to be there.
One shoulder pressed into the driver’s door, cowboy hat pulled low, arms folded over his broad chest she’d spent countless hours running her hands over.
The overhead light caught the hard line of his jaw and the width of his shoulders. For a few seconds, she forgot how to move.
Oh god.
When she got in arms’ reach of him, she wanted to be kissing him.
The thought hit so immediate and honest that it almost knocked the breath out of her. It had been months since she’d touched him—or felt his touch.
Months since she’d said what needed to be said and watched him leave while her chest split wide open.
And still, there he was, burning every good reason into ash just by waiting beside her car.
Seeing him made her feel like she was in a desert and he was the one drink of water. Not a sip but a full, cold glass pressed right to her parched lips when she’d been pretending she wasn’t thirsty.
She was safe with Vander. And also not.
He would never hurt her—she knew that down to her bones. He wasn’t the kind of man who preyed on anyone weaker than him. But he was dangerous to the places she couldn’t guard, the ones where a soft touch felt too much like a promise and a man waiting in the dark made her forget about empty bank accounts.
She couldn’t be near him without wanting him. And that was the real danger.
Forgetting why she’d backed away would mean believing maybe this time would be different when she knew better.
She kept walking toward him in slow steps, each pulling more emotion from a well she’d capped off the night he walked out of her bedroom. She felt relief that he was there and anger that he’d waited.
Hurt that he looked so normal when she was a mess inside.
And shame that she’d missed him so much it had become a persistent ache she carried through school pickups and second-grade math homework and quiet nights when Ben was asleep.
She told herself she was over it. But she’d lied.
“Vander.” His name came out quieter than she planned.
He unfolded from her car with the kind of slow control that made every nerve in her body pay attention. He didn’t approach her, just stood there, all contained power and burning eyes.
He looked at her like the months between them never existed.
“Can I talk to you a minute?” He took a single step. “There are things I want to say.”
That chasm in her chest that she’d been trying to close all this time cracked open wider.
She couldn’t do this in a parking lot in the middle of the night with her feet hurting and her body tired and all her defenses worn thin. If he apologized, she’d soften. If he argued, she’d hurt.
If he told her he missed her, she might do the stupidest thing possible and step into his arms like she had so many other nights.
“If you’re going to ask if I really meant it about not seeing each other…yes.”
The words tasted bitter, but she got them out.
His face changed almost imperceptibly—just a tightening around his hard lips and a stillness in his eyes that hit worse than if he’d reacted.
Vander always did that—took the blow without showing where it landed.
For one painful heartbeat, neither of them moved.
“Okay.” That was all. No fight from him, no pushing back.
