After You (Because of You 2)

“Nikki.”

My blood freezes in my veins, interrupting the stirrings of my imagination. In my mind, two soulmates are reconnecting after a dumb mistake, and in reality, my biggest mistake just said my name and stopped my whole world from revolving. My body is paralyzed and my mind fills up with a heavy fog. I don’t know if it’s because of the squeaky creative wheels that haven’t turned in a while, the nickname I haven’t responded to in six years, or the voice.

I know that voice.

I’ll never forget that voice—no matter how hard I try.

Chapter Four

The world outside of this moment ceases to exist.

This hallway acts like a time machine, transporting me back several years to another hallway—our old high school on graduation day. To the reckless boy with the long golden hair who owned my reluctant heart, skulking around in a dark, empty classroom.

“Nikki,” he called out then, stopping me in my tracks.

The last time I ever saw him. The last day I ever heard his voice outside of a memory.

I’m too terrified to turn around. This can’t be a real thing that’s happening. Maybe it’s a dream. I still dream about him sometimes. Maybe I’m actually lying in bed, and I’ll turn to look at him, but I won’t get to see his face. My eyes will open, I’ll be safe in bed, and it will be the morning of Alex’s wedding—all the anxiety surging through me right now will be imagined.

My heart will ache for just a brief, private moment, then I’ll return to my regularly scheduled life, just a little more grateful for the lack of heart-stopping agony brought on by real feelings.

I turn to look. To wake up. To end this fantasy.

Only instead of ending, it solidifies.

Derek Noble leans against the wall like he owns it. Like he built it himself, for the sole purpose of standing there right now and looking so damn sexy. The faintest trace of a smirk pulls at the corners of his beautiful mouth, his blue eyes warm and dancing with amusement, just the way they always used to. A well-built dam crumbles inside me and a crushing tidal wave of pain hits, knocking me on my ass, flooding my heart.

I can scarcely breathe.

I feel tears welling up in my eyes, horror blossoming within me at the idea of him noticing.

He has already ruined one of my lives—can’t he leave this one alone?

Once I find my voice, I demand, “What are you doing here?”

He could push off the wall and move closer, but he doesn’t. He stands there and waits, knowing gravity will pull me toward him if he waits long enough. “Heard there was a wedding,” he says casually.

My gaze drops, quickly taking in his attire. He’s wearing a sharp black suit with a matching black tie and a snow-white dress shirt that’s stretched across his broad, muscled chest. Damn, he filled out well in our years apart. He was always beautiful, unfairly magnetic, difficult not to get sucked into, but now the memory of the boy is melting as I take in the reality of the man he grew up to be.

That thought pierces the bubble of nostalgia he’s sweeping me up in with his sudden appearance. We could have been together. I could have been by his side, watching as he grew into this man, growing with him.

I wasn’t, because of the choices he made. I can’t let myself forget that again.

A whole fleet of ice soldiers come to my heart’s aid, working as quickly as they can to repair the damage. To rebuild the wall he just exploded with little more than a lean-and-smirk.

If the boy was dangerous, the man is probably devastating.

He needs to leave.

“You weren’t invited,” I tell him.

My tone must alert him that I’m not going to move toward him this time. That I’m not 18 anymore. I try to remember that, myself. I try to remember the kickass woman I’ve grown up to be, the woman I am without him. I will not be held prisoner by a phantom, and that’s what he is. Maybe he haunts me from time to time, but he belongs in my past life, not my current one.

He pushes off the wall and saunters closer.

My heart constricts, knocking several little ice soldiers off the ledge; the poor little guys plunge to their watery deaths in the ocean of feelings below.

Work faster, guys.