Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 95545 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 478(@200wpm)___ 382(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95545 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 478(@200wpm)___ 382(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
“Actually, you did. I appreciate you being upfront and telling me the truth.”
She sucks in a shaky breath. “I don’t want you to have hurt feelings.”
I almost laugh. Is this lady serious? My fucking feelings are already hurt. More like completely annihilated.
“Can we sit and talk for a few more minutes?” She makes one last-ditch effort at damage control.
I shake my head. “No, I don’t think so.”
“Then let’s set up another time to meet. Whatever works for you, that’s what we’ll do.”
I drag a hand over my face before glancing at the exit with longing. I just want to get the hell out of here. Instead of walking away, I mumble, “Do you have any intention of telling your family about me?”
Her shoulders slump as her face falls.
Yeah, that’s exactly what I thought. There’s nothing more for either of us to say.
I jerk my head into a nod. “Take care, Candace.”
On legs that feel shaky, I push my way out of the coffee house and into the crisp fall air. By the time I reach my BMW, I’m sick to my stomach. It takes a couple of attempts to jam the key into the ignition. Relief floods through me when the metal slides home, and I rev the engine. As I pull away from the curb, my gaze flickers to the rearview mirror, only to find Candace standing on the sidewalk, staring after me.
With a heart that feels like it’s splintering apart, I realize that’s exactly where she belongs.
In the rearview mirror.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Alyssa
It’s two o’clock in the afternoon, and I still haven’t heard from Colton. Why hasn’t he shot me a text? Or given me a quick call? I’d take anything at this point. I just want to know everything is all right.
That he’s all right.
As I push through the lobby door of the apartment building and hustle down the cement walkway, I slide my phone from my pocket and peek at the screen for the umpteenth time in the last thirty minutes.
Ugh. Could I feel more like a needy girlfriend?
And we’re not even going out.
But still...
After all these years, I finally feel like Colton has cracked open the door, allowing me a glimpse of the person beneath the persona. I now have a better understanding of him. If I’m being completely honest, I’m afraid this meeting with Candace will somehow slam that door closed again, and we’ll backslide. There’s no way I can deal with him shutting down on me for a second time. If Colton wants to have a relationship, he needs to open up and let me in.
As I reach the edge of the parking lot, a glint of metallic gray catches the corner of my eye, and my footsteps falter as I take a closer look at the vehicle.
Sure enough, Colton’s metallic gray BMW is sitting in the lot.
He’s back? And he didn’t bother to call or text?
A wave of hurt floods through me. It shouldn’t. But that doesn’t change the fact that it does. As I continue to stare, the door opens, and Colton unfolds himself from inside. One glimpse of his face is all it takes for me to realize that whatever happened with Candace wasn’t good. Even from this distance, grief swims around in his eyes. His mouth is a tight slash across his face, and his body vibrates with pent-up energy. Almost as if there is something inside him trying to claw its way out.
My first impulse is to take him into my arms and soothe away all the hurt that has been inflicted, but...
I have no idea if that’s what he wants.
Or needs.
Because when it comes down to it, I don’t really know Colton.
Those thoughts are slammed home when his gaze flickers in my direction, locking on mine. There’s a flash of surprise before it’s tucked away behind an expressionless mask. When he stays frozen in place, I tentatively raise my hand in greeting. We stare for a long moment before his legs eat up the distance between us. He stops a couple of feet from where I stand on the sidewalk.
It takes effort to swallow down my disappointment when he doesn’t reach out and pull me into his arms. The loss of that intimate connection makes us feel more like acquaintances than anything else. It’s disheartening. Up close, his features appear even more haunted. Closed off. It’s just as I feared. If he would give me a sign that he wanted me to make the first move, I would do it in a heartbeat.
Instead, I stay rooted in place. “Hi.”
“Hey.” His mouth never lifts into a smile.
Unsure what to say, I glance at the car. “Did you just return?”
“Yeah.” He plows a hand through his hair before muttering, “I should really get moving. I’m already late for practice. I don’t need to give Coach any more reason to bench my ass.”