Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 107667 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107667 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
“So, I’m guessing the reunion didn’t go well?” Angie’s voice doesn’t even surprise me. I’m sure Owen texted her the moment I set eyes on Tennessee. My bride probably dropped her plants to be here. Okay, I might feel crazy, but I know she set the plant down gently before she rushed here. I look over at her, and she looks worried. “Am I right to assume the guy was her boyfriend?”
I have a lump in my throat. “Yup. She had the audacity to look at me and tell me she was with him.”
“At least she was honest,” she reminds me, as if that helps the situation.
“Was she, though?” I ask, my gaze burning into hers. “’Cause if she was honest, she would tell him to fuck off and be with me.”
Angie sighs. “Dart, I’m sure she is confused.”
“Why?” I ask, skating toward her before leaning on the boards in front of her. “That doesn’t make sense to me. Bro, it was the best night of my life, and I’m not ashamed to admit that. I know she felt what I felt. I saw the tears in her eyes. So, what the hell?”
“I know,” she stresses. “Dart, she ghosted you for a reason, but now she’s here, and that night is probably smacking her in the face left and right. And then she has this guy she’s been seeing, and I’m sure that’s confusing.”
“It doesn’t need to be, though. Nothing has changed for me.”
“But it could have for her.”
“That’s bullshit,” I exclaim, clutching the boards in my hands and wanting to rip them in half. “It didn’t. I’m telling you, Ang. Nothing has changed for either of us. I felt it—I felt her.”
“I don’t doubt that,” she agrees, holding my gaze. “But you need to give her some space. Be patient.”
“Space? That’s the last fucking thing I want,” I tell her. “Damn it, Ang. What if I made all this up?”
Sympathy fills her features. “Does it feel made up?”
I shake my head. “No. But then, I have never felt like this.”
“And that could be the case for her too, and now she’s scared.”
“She doesn’t need to be,” I say, my voice almost a whisper. “I’ve got her.”
Angie’s hand covers mine, squeezing it. “Talk to her.”
“I tried.” I meet her gaze, and she gives me a look. “While I tried to make out with her.”
“Exactly,” she scolds. “Talk to her—with your words, not your mouth.”
“I need my mouth to make the words.”
“Yes, but keep your mouth to yourself,” she says dryly.
“I’d rather not,” I admit, shaking my head. “She hasn’t answered any of my texts before.”
“Before you weren’t in the same state as her. Didn’t she say she couldn’t do long-distance?”
It’d be hard because of the distance.
Man, those words still hurt, and it’s been months. With that lump threatening to suffocate me, I somehow get out, “Yeah, she did.”
“Okay. But there is no distance now, so try again.”
I think that over. “The company she works for is throwing a party for us tomorrow night. I can try to talk to her then.”
Angie shakes her head. “The boyfriend will be there. I think you need to call her so there is space between you, because I don’t trust you to keep your hands to yourself.”
She’s got me there. I bite into my cheek before pointing to my phone that sits on the bench she’s perched on. “Hand me that, please.”
She does as I ask, and I find our text thread. Or better yet, my endless attempts at contact.
Me: We need to talk.
Angie stands to watch, and I don’t even try to hide my screen. Minutes pass, and I almost throw my phone. But then to my surprise, a text bubble pops up, followed by an address.
The Only Ten You’ll Ever See: Meet me here in an hour.
My heart leaps into my throat as my body trembles with excitement. I look up just as Angie grins at me.
“Good luck.”
I scoff, feeling on top of the world. “I don’t need luck. I’ve got fate.”
And please, fate, don’t let me down now.
Chapter Sixteen
Tennessee
Troy doesn’t say a word to me as we walk toward our cars. I can tell he’s upset, not that I blame him. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out there is history between Dart and me. It’s palpable, raw, and I know I’m not the only one feeling it everywhere. I still taste him, and I’m sure I smell like him. That dark, spicy, sinful, smoky scent that only he has. I run my fingers along my mouth, my heart pounding in my chest while I walk down the steps to my car. I know I should say something as I reach for my door handle, ask where Troy is staying, but the guilt is eating me alive.
The guilt from hurting Dart and from kissing him when I’m seeing Troy.