If she’s going to leave me, she’s going to have to do it to my face.
“I think this is a mistake.” Reed’s murmur is spoken just beneath his breath, as is my response.
“I’ll add it to my fucking résumé.”
The crickets are the only sounds I can hear over my racing heart until the door opens.
Thump, thump. The light of the foyer creates a halo around her. Standing all of five feet two, Kat stares up at me, her gorgeous eyes working their way up from my chest until she meets my gaze. Her expression isn’t at all how I pictured.
Time pauses for a moment. It’s gone too fast, but it stills long enough for me to take in her cherry lips, her hazel eyes and the shock that disappears far too quickly, replaced with a shadow that hides a woman I used to know.
Thump, thump. The door opens with a groan and she stands to the side, her gaze moving easily from me to Reed as she tells us to come in. Her cadence is soft but confident, and I nearly second-guess everything until she peeks up at me and her grip on the door tightens.
There’s the look I’ve been dreaming up, staring back at me through a glossy gaze. It’s nearly gone as quickly as I see it, but I know damn well it’s there as she glances to the floor and licks her lips. I don’t take my eyes from her and she’s quick to bring hers back up but it stops at my mouth.
Heat spikes through my blood. That’s my needy girl.
Even if she doesn’t openly admit it, even if she’s wary, she wants me still. The tension crackles between us, although it’s quickly extinguished.
“I could smell the beer and whiskey from all the way in the kitchen,” Lydia states evenly with a touch of humor as she leans against the open doorway through Kat’s home.
I’ve seen pictures of this place, Reed showed me. He kept tabs on her for me. And although the compliment is there—I like your place—there’s not a word that could leave my dried throat right now even if I tried.
It’s silent and awkward between Kat and me as Reed makes small talk with Lydia and I share stolen glances with the woman I never stopped loving.
Her thin cotton nightgown barely hides her curves although it’s baggy on her small frame. I know I’ve aged while I’ve been gone, with dark circles under my eyes that never used to be there and lines from constant stress and worry, but Kat’s changed too. Without an ounce of makeup on her, there are bags under her eyes and I wonder if it’s because she couldn’t sleep knowing I’d be knocking on her door tonight. Her hair is shorter, cut just above her shoulders and dyed a pretty blond that complements her olive skin tone.
Kat walks past me, careful not to brush against me, to stand beside Lydia and motions to the stairs at my right. The instinct to slip my arm around her waist and pin her against the wall is only stopped by her statement when she says, “The guest room is ready for you.”
Thump, thump. I want nothing more than to hold her but instead I’m paralyzed where I am. A fucking guest room?
A chill flows through me, keeping me where I am and threatening to take her away again if I say or do anything at this moment.
Reed clears his throat and Kat crosses her arms, refusing to look at him. A moment passes and I finally speak.
“You two not friends anymore?” I motion between the two of them, although my gaze traps Kat’s and my pulse rages against my veins. She swallows thickly before answering me with a gentleness that tells me she’s feeling the same thing I am. That all of this is balanced on a cord wound so tight it may break.
“He didn’t tell me you were coming,” she says and licks her lower lip before adding with a sigh, “I had to find out from Lydia.”
It’s only now that I realize I’m far too drunk for this. Fuck.
I stand there, time ticking away, just taking her in. My eyes roam down her body and back up and although I want her more than anything, I can’t help but to notice how her bottom lip wobbles and she catches it between her teeth. It’s telling me the same thing that her glossy eyes and her defensive posture are.
Two strong hands press against my back. “We had a lot to drink, so,” Reed states, pushing me forward but I’m far from ready. Even if the alcohol is wearing on me, making my head spin and throwing off my balance.
The question comes out without my conscious consent. “You don’t want me here?”