Atone (The Disciples 2)

He hesitates, then continues to eat his steak. Again, my stomach flutters. I hate the way my face grows warm. Tempted to turn and leave, I say, “I’m so sorry about what happened that day. I feel as though somehow… I don’t know… maybe I was to blame?” As I lean forward, my fingers touch the end of his table.

“When I found out about what happened and about your baby girl—”

He drops his fork with a loud thud on the plate and pushes his half-eaten food away. I let go of the table and stare at the rage that masks his beautiful face.

“You came over here”—his voice is the same syrupy gravel that I love yet hate—“while I’m eating to say you’re sorry about my one-year-old baby and her mother being blown up in an explosion that was meant for me?”

I take a step back as if he slapped me. Bile rises in my throat and my vision blurs. Not trusting myself to speak, I simply nod.

He snorts. “I don’t need you feeling bad. Your conscience is cleared.” He tosses his napkin onto the plate. I swallow as I watch, horrified while he throws two twenties on the table. As he brushes past me, his eyes are like a fierce, wild storm cloud preparing to unleash a hurricane.

What just happened? It’s almost as if I’m dreaming. All I wanted to say was I’m so sorry.

I turn and watch him throw open the diner door, the darkness outside filling the almost deathly silence of my mind.

“What the fuck?” I look around, and the room has come into color, now almost a vibrant, pulsating rainbow that eventually dulls, forcing my mind to process that he’s a selfish ass.

Why the hell is he back? I was doing fine. My life isn’t perfect, but whose is?

I’m still happy; I still get up and treat people the way I want to be treated. This dick walks into my diner, eats my food, and when I try to give him my deepest sympathy and almost tell him if he needs someone to talk to… Unbelievable.

I march over to Cindy, who looks stunned, making me wonder if I said all this out loud. “If you see that entitled piece of shit come in here again, he’s eighty-sixed.” I point at her as I storm out the door.

The darkness of the warm night hits me. Going from the air conditioner to the warmth feels nice. I blink, letting my eyes adjust and make a mental note to call the city. They need to come and install a new light. Cars pass by and their bright headlights propel me forward as I search for him. His starched white dress shirt makes him easy to find.

“Jesus,” I mumble as the sweat slides down my breasts. He’s leaning on the hood of what appears to be an expensive car. I should turn back. It doesn’t look like he’s anything I should mess with.

Fuck that. I’m not a doormat. He may be miserable, but that doesn’t mean he has a right to be cruel. Unfortunately, my heart does a painful thud as I admire his profile. He’s so perfect and awe-inspiring. Always has been. The one thing I truly wanted.

“If you know what’s good for you…” The gravel in his voice vibrates almost as if he’s out of breath.

“Whatever, David. You’re not the only one with feelings.” He turns his head and I’m caught, trapped. He’s like a beautiful beast. His silver eyes almost glow with his pain.

“Leave. Me. Alone.” It travels across the empty parking lot. I walk right up to him, invading his space.

“All I wanted was to tell you… I’m so sorry. Sorry about that day and your”—my voice cracks—“your daughter.” I wave my hands at him. If I didn’t hear a slight hiss of breath, I’d think he was bored. He doesn’t move, not even a flinch.

I nod as tears sting my eyes. “Fine well… you’re eighty-sixed, David.” I turn to get away from him. He’s always been nothing but a dream that everyone said was a bad one. I bite my bottom lip, and out of nowhere, his hand digs into mine. Like a viper, he lunges and jerks me toward his hard chest.

My breath escapes as his warm body burns into mine. “Are you insane? Let go,” I hiss into his pretty face, trying to ignore the ripples of excitement fluttering around in my stomach.

“Shut up, Charlie,” he snarls, and before I can scream, his mouth is on mine. I try to move, get away. If I don’t right now, this moment, I’m lost.

His strong hands trap my face as he deepens a kiss that steals me of speech and all my breath. Holy God! I’m twenty-six and mortified that this rough kiss has my body on fire and my panties wet.