Falling into You (Falling Stars 3)

Oh god.

He remembered.

Every cell in my body ignited with the need I still felt, with this love that wouldn’t let go, with the terror that bound and raced and wailed of the danger he posed.

But I was a fool.

A fool who took his hand and let him pull me into his arms. I let him start to lead me in a slow, sensuous sway. Just moving from side-to-side, one strong arm looped around my waist and the other curled around the back of my bare neck.

Tingles streaked.

Emotion surged.

Tears burned in the back of my throat as he held me close.

He leaned down and began to quietly sing along to the mournful love song.

I’ve been livin’ a lie

Without you by my side

When did I surrender

When did I let go

When did life become a gamble

Your heart on the cutting line

Didn’t mean to stumble

Wish I had the strength to stand

Still lovin’ you and I’m not able

To forget the touch of your handRichard heaved out a breath and curled his arms tighter around me, words a grunt of desperation, “Every song, Violet. Every fuckin’ song is about you.”

His confession covered me like the warmest caress.

Cascaded over me like seduction.

Like the lulling waves of a faraway dream that I’d had for so long.

I wanted to slip into it.

Into his warmth and his safety and the comfort of his touch.

Just let go.

Fall.

Soar in this surrender.

With that single thought, panic hit.

Realization of where I was letting myself go.

My entire body shivered.

Terror and dread.

I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t do this.

He tried to hold me tighter. I fought him off, slapping at him as alarm took me over. I wrangled out of his arms, my heart hammering so hard I could feel it in my ears.

It hurts too much.

It hurts too much.

Even though we were secluded, I could feel the weight of the eyes of the nearest tables shifting to stare at the drama going down.

That’s all we needed.

To start a flashfire in the Dalton gossip gang. The news would be back to my daddy before we even made it home.

I stared at the floor, barely able to find my shuddering voice, “I think you should take me home.”

“Violet.” He reached for me again.

I stepped out of his reach.

“Please. Just take me home. I can’t handle this, Richard. It’s too much.”

He sighed. Frustration and devastation.

Sage eyes churned with sadness and calamity, and he roughed a hand through the locks of his hair that my fingers itched to feel. But I knew goin’ there would only bring me more sorrow.

That I was slipping.

Falling into him.

Falling into his abyss.

Into an endless, starry night.

And if I let go, I’d be the one to blame if there was no one there to catch me before I hit the jagged rocks waiting at the bottom.

Finally, he gave a clipped nod of resignation.

He dug into his wallet and pulled out a few hundred-dollar bills and tossed them onto the table to cover the meals that hadn’t yet arrived.

“Let’s go.”

Shame covered us as we walked out, people watchin’ in prying, morbid interest.

Too bad it wasn’t a ridiculous datin’ show and there weren’t actual hearts at stake.

All of it draped us in a heavy, oppressive silence that felt as if it would suffocate. So dense and sluggish that I was having a hard time getting my feet to cooperate as I treaded across the dimly-lit parking lot.

But I had to do this.

I had to protect myself.

Had to protect Daisy.

Had to remember.

He opened the door for me, and I was struck with another shockwave of need when he gripped my elbow to help me into his fancy new truck.

Leather seats were there to welcome me while I felt like anything touching me would burn right through my flesh.

Consume me.

Leave me nothing but bones and regret.

Richard shut the door, hurried around to his side, and climbed in.

He drove us home through the bated unease that lapped with the questions that begged to be answered. The problem was that I wasn’t sure I could handle the answers.

The one truth I had was that I was terrified of forgiving him.

Of accepting that vulnerability.

Above anything else? I knew my father was right.

Richard Ramsey held ugly, horrible secrets.

We made the twenty-minute trip in abject silence. The wreckage of our hearts clanking so loud that nothing else could be heard above it. Headlights speared through the darkness and spread out on the deserted country road as he sped through the night.

I didn’t look at him.

Didn’t dare glance at the rigid, hard beauty of his profile. At those hands that I could feel clutching the steering wheel in a grief I’d grown to believe he wasn’t capable of.

Finally, he took the last sweeping curve that would bring the simple home into view. A haven where it rested on the grassy hilltop with the expanse of darkened, sleeping flowers making up the backdrop.