Page 27 of A Lifetime of Afters
I raised my hand again, this time to stop him from speaking. “It’s fine. I’m going to my dad’s. Could you give me a boost?”
“Already done,” he muttered.
My unprotected heart absorbed the hit and bled, but I smiled through the pain. “I’ll be out of here in about twenty minutes.” Without pausing or looking up, I swung my legs out of his bed and began to gather my things.
“You,” he cleared his throat. “You want to stay for lunch?”
I stopped dead in my tracks and slowly spun to face him. And then I dropped the pretense and gave him the truth, “Even you cannot possibly be this obtuse.”
Meeting my eyes, he winced, then scrubbed his hand over his face. “Noelle… I care so much-”
I care about you.
You’re a wonderful woman.
I’m glad I met you.
You’re going to make some man incredibly happy one day.
I’m sorry.
I met someone.
Fury, red hot and growing hotter by the second, combusted in a flash. “Don’t! Don’t fucking hand me the same GODDAMN tripe I’ve heard over and fucking over from every motherfucker I’ve ever shared my body with.”
He flinched as my statement hit him squarely where it hurt.
“Yes, Hawkley, I have fucked other men. And guess what? Looks like I’ll be doing it again in the not-so-distant future because you just proved you’re not any different than the others.” I swung my arm out to indicate all of him before placing my hand over my chest. “Despite everything, I still have hope I’ll find someone to love me!” I laughed, my bitterness overflowing. “It’s fragile,” my voice cracked. “But it’s there! And it’s mine! And none of you have ever been able to take that from me!” I wiped the single defiant tear that dared to fall and continued. “And someday, someone will make all of this,” I sneered, “worth it.”
Turning on my heel, I moved to walk past him, the pile of my clothes in my arms.
He whispered my name as I passed but didn’t try to stop me.
It wasn’t until I had one foot out the door, Bruce in his carrier under my arm, that he got his shit together.
“No.” A single word. A solitary syllable.
Without turning around, I clipped, “No what?”
“I don’t want you to leave like this.”
I cocked my head to the side, ready to unleash the sass, but suddenly tired. Tired of all of it. Of all of them.
Of myself.
“How would you like me to leave, Hawk?”
“Knowing I’m going to take a couple of days to get my head on straight. A couple of days to try to quiet the guilt. Knowing I’m going to text you. Every day. And we’re going to make plans. And see one another. See if we have something that will last before we let everyone else in on it. On us.” He took a breath. “I want you to leave knowing there’s an us, that I’ll text you later and call you in a few days.”
My mind warred with my heart. My heart urged me to throw myself into his arms, press my mouth to his, and assure him we’d find our way. But my mind, well accustomed with how to play this game, knew the best offense was defense.
My back to him, I gave a short nod, and slammed out the door.
I drove around for an hour before I remembered what it did to my poor cat and headed home.
My dad took one look at my face and mutely opened his arms. “Do I need to kick his ass?”
I chuckled drily and nestled into my dad’s strong arms. Why couldn’t there be more men like him?
