Page 49 of When You Were Mine

Trevor’s scent filled her senses. And no, it was nothing like the boy she remembered who’d only used bar soap and deodorant. This version of him smelled expensive—and she didn’t know why because it wasn’t cologne.

“Let me guess,” she said. “You bring your own fancy soap wherever you travel?”

“My what?Soap?No. I use whatever’s in the hotel.”

“This hotel hasn’t operated in ten years. There are no supplies in the rooms.”

“I don’t know.” He grew flustered. “I used whatever was in the shower. It must be Darby’s.”

We’re talking about soap now. Awesome. “What can I do for you, Trevor?”

“Nothing. I just…want to be near you.” He stood there as jittery as a boy finally talking to his crush. “I want to…” Grabbing the back of his neck, he blew out a breath. “Can we just talk?”

She sighed.Here’s your chance to get that closure.And yet…

She just couldn’t do it. She couldn’t look into his eyes and not see devotion and lust. For whatever reason, she needed to preserve that part of her past. Hold on to it.It’s all I have of him. “I’m afraid this trip is all business for me. Maybe when we get back home, we can meet for coffee, okay?”Over my dead body. But hopefully, it would make him go away.

“No.” He stepped closer. “Look, for whatever reason, we both wound up in this hotel in Iceland, and I’m not going to waste the opportunity. I get it. You’ve moved on. It was a long time ago. But I don’t believe for one second the hurt I’ve caused you is entirely healed.” He came so close she could feel the heat of his body. “Call it guilt—call it whatever you want—but this is my chance to make things right.”

“You can’t do that, Trevor.” It was his vulnerability that did it. Made her stop running. She’d always had the sense he’d moved on and never looked back, but there was no denying this man was as upset as she was—and that meant something.

It meant it hadn’t been easy for him. That he had regrets. And she wanted to hear him out. She just did.

Okay.You win, Amber.

I’ll get the damn closure.

If it would get this trauma out of her body, she’d talk to him. “But if you have something to say, please. Go ahead.” She gestured to him.Talk.

But he didn’t do that. He watched her with a strange expression. Was that yearning? Or was she imagining it?

Of course you’re imagining it, you idiot.

My God, you’re a hot mess.

He lifted a hand, as though he might touch her.

No. She froze. Fight or flight kicked in.

Because she longed for his touch. More than anything, that was what she missed.

Come on.They’d been inseparable. They couldn’t keep their hands off each other.

I miss that.

I need that.

But he wasn’t hers anymore, and if he touched her right then, she would hurl herself into his arms and beg for more.

And that snapped her out of it. Because she wouldneverdo that.

But he seemed to sense her turmoil as he pulled back and rubbed the back of his neck.

It left her feeling as disappointed as she was relieved.

No, relief is good. We don’t want to unearth longing.

We just want to let him go.

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