Page 127 of Ruin Me Gently

I blinked, dazed, pain lancing through my skull.

Through the haze, I just about made him out.

Towering. Shaking with rage. Chest rising and falling in sharp, uneven breaths as he positioned himself between me and Clark, his body a shield.

Then his fist met Clark’s face.

CHAPTER THIRTY ONE

The plan was simple.

Show up. No scarf. No hiding. No bullshit.

Just me.

Take her for dinner, or ice-cream, or whatever the hell she wanted. I didn’t care. I just wanted to spend time with her as myself.

I didn’t want her to leave. That was the truth. Plain and brutal.

It’d been circling in my head for days now, sharp-edged, digging in deeper every time I caught her looking at me like that. Like she’d made up her mind and was just waiting for the right moment to say it.

And honestly, I couldn’t even blame her. Not really. I’d kept her at arm’s length. Kept my face hidden, kept my name locked behind my teeth.

It wasn’t fair. Not to her.

The alternative felt impossible. Showing her who I was, letting her in, it felt like cutting the wires on a live bomb and hoping I didn’t blow us both to hell.

But if something bad was going to happen… wouldn’t it have happened already?

That was the thought that kept looping in my head, louder every time I saw her smile flicker and fade. Every time I caught her pulling away just a little more.

So what the hell was I doing? Keeping my distance sure as hell wasn’t fixing anything. If anything, it was making it worse. I was pushing her away. Driving her right to the edge, watching her slip through my fingers.

And I couldn’t let that happen.

I didn’t want her to leave. I wanted her to stay. I wanted her. Her sharp tongue, her stupid jokes, the way she tried to pretend she wasn’t laughing when she absolutely was. I wanted the way she curled against me like it was her favourite place.

I wanted her. She wanted me. And she deserved whatever the hell she wanted.

And if I didn’t do something about it soon, I was going to lose her.

This was it. A fresh start.

The street was quieter than usual, the usual hum of late-night traffic dampened by the light drizzle. I pulled up outside the bookstore, engine humming low as I scanned the storefront.

The ‘closed’ sign glowed against the glass in soft red neon, casting a dull reflection onto the wet pavement below. The shop itself was dark, the inside empty.

They’d closed early?

My fingers clenched around the steering wheel and I eased the car forward, rolling past the storefront, then circled the block once.

No sign of her.

I tapped the brake, scanning the sidewalk, expecting to see her walking home like usual, head down, face buried in her coat collar.

Still nothing.

I pulled over, cutting the engine.

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