Page 84 of The Best of Us

I responded to his touch, desperate to match his movements. Greedy for more, but first, I had something to tell him.

“Go,” he said gruffly. “Go before there’s no turning back.”

He released his hold of me, framing his hands on each side of me on the counter. His veins were prominently on display, and the wood beneath his palms wouldn’t win if he stayed like that much longer, trying to hold back to keep from giving in.

“No turning back from what?”

“You know exactly what,” he rasped, his breathing picking up. “Go,” he pleaded again.

I didn’t budge, and how could I?

“Ask me to stay.” I brought my hand to his chest. His heart was racing double the speed of my own. “All you have to do is ask me, and I’ll stay.”

He lifted his chin, eyes shifting to the coffered ceiling. His throat muscles tensed before he slowly walked his focus back to my face.

“I can’t ask that of you.” He shook his head. “Because now maybe it’s me worried you’re the one who’ll feel obligated to stay.”

Chapter25

Juliette

I barely hada chance to process what he said before my phone rang.

He pushed off the counter and reached around and removed the device that had the worst timing ever from my back pocket.

He offered it to me, dropping his gaze between us to Easton’s name flashing on the screen.

“You should take that.” His gravelly tone sent me closer to him as he walked back a step.

I sent Easton’s call to voicemail. “Can I at least address what you said to me first?”

“I’d rather you not.” His jaw twitched, and he covered it with his palm, eyes on the floor.

“Look at me.” The command burst from my lips. “Look me in the eyes and tell me you actually believe what you said.”

Goose bumps dotted my arms as he finally met my eyes.

“You don’t think I’ve spent these last seventeen years dreaming about one day bumping into the man who gave me the best night of my life, never mind the miracle of our son?”

He quietly stared at me, his hand departing from his jaw the only indication he’d heard me.

“You don’t think every time I looked at my father’s bourbon, I thought of you?” I whispered, using my phone to point to the bottle. “Remembering it was how I worked up the nerve to even talk to a man like you?” My arm dropped to my side. “Or remember the sweet taste of it on your lips when you first kissed me?” A stuttery breath slipped free. “Doesthatsound like obligation to you?”

His fingers tightened into his palms, a form of restraint I could so clearly see. He closed the space between us, dropping his head to look at me.

“And you don’t think I drank it all these years because of you? To remember you? That I drank it to feel something, anything at all, even if it was the pain of knowing I’d never see you again. I’d never find anyone who made me feel like you did in those three hours.” Emotion rattled loose from his voice. “I spent seventeen years thinking I was the only one who felt that way. Seventeen years of believing I was obsessed with a woman who didn’t even want me back. Do you know how much that fucked me up?”

I covered my mouth with my free hand, my fingers trembling at his admission. At the raw truth sitting between us.

“And it was all my fault. Your pain, Colin’s, and mine.” He rested his fist over his heart. “Because I left your room without saying goodbye and left a note. Afuckingnote,” he snarled, then walked backward, raising his hands in silent request not to talk or follow him.

I watched him walk out on me just as he did earlier, feeling wrecked all over again. I looked over at the bottle of Legacy Ridge, and since I was alone, I took my chance and poured two fingers.

My hand shook as I brought the glass to my lips, seventeen years of memories bleeding through my mind. I tossed it back like a tequila shot, and it burned my chest and heated my throat.

Easton calling again prevented me from another drink. I didn’t want to stress him out, but I had no clue how to talk to him while full of so many conflicting emotions.

I set down the glass and accepted his call, but he changed it to FaceTime the second I did.

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