Page 14 of Ambrosia Kisses
"No, I didn't."
"Uh, yeah, you did. You've been in Italy for three years. Hello?" She narrows her eyes at me. "Are you drunk or something?"
"I didn't leave the fucking country that morning, Haven," I growl.
"Bastian took you to the airport. You didn't come home for six months," she says slowly, like she's talking to a toddler.
Jesus Christ.
I pinch the bridge of my nose, striving for calm. It doesn't really come. "He took me to the airport tochange my tickets to his name."
"What?" Her brows furrow.
"He was going to go to Italy in my place to get shit rolling. The airline wouldn't let us do the ticket transfer over the phone. We had to go to the airport to do it. I ended up flying out the next day instead,afterPaisley left me."
"Oh." Her eyes widen. "Oh." She slaps a hand over her mouth. "Oh my god, Ridley. I told Paisley that you were flying out!"
I turn back to the printer, trying to give myself a minute to think. Part of me wants to ask what the fuck Haven was thinking, but this shit isn't her fault. She didn't know.
Christ, I fucked everything up, didn't I?
"Jesus," I rasp, grasping the sides of the printer as the last three years reorder themselves into a grim reality I didn't expect. One where I may have destroyed everything.
Paisley didn't walk away. She fled, thinking I did. She ran into the arms of some other motherfucker because she thought I took her virginity and then walked out without so much as a goodbye. No note, no explanation, just…gone while she slept.
No wonder she hates me.
"She was devastated, Ridley," Haven whispers behind me, guilt heavy in her voice. "Jax said she was crying when she ran out of here. And I was so mad at you for not telling her that you were leaving. I thought you were a big jerk for that."
"I bought her a ring that morning," I mumble.
"Oh, Ridley," she gasps sadly. "Does she…?"
"Know? No." I shake my head, laughing abruptly. "She thinks I fled the country without a fucking word."
"I'm so sorry!" Haven cries. "It's all my fault."
It'd be easy to blame her. She's the one who told Paisley I left…but it isn't her fault. I fucked up all on my own the minute I left her sleeping in my bed without explaining. And I had a chance to fix it, but I was too goddamn busy feeling sorry for myself to take it.
Christ, I should have hopped out of the truck on campus that day and ripped her out of that fucker's arms. I should have demanded answers right then and there, sorted all of this out then. Instead, I fucking cracked. I ran.
Maybe Paisley was right this morning. I did run. Maybe not when she thought or for the reasons she thought. But I fucking ran. I saw her in the arms of someone else, and I couldn't fucking handle it.
I damned us both because I thought she'd made her choice, and I was too goddamn afraid of what I'd do if I stayed.
"It's not your fault," I murmur to my cousin, closing the tray on the printer. "I fucked this one up all on my own."
"What are you going to do?" Haven asks as I stride for the door.
It's a damn good question…and I'm not sure I have an answer. I know what I want to do. I want to go back and fix it. I'd beg her to wait for me, make damn sure she knew I was coming back for her before I left the house. But I can't do that shit. There is no rewinding time.
Can I fix it? After three years, I don't know.
I step out into the parking lot, squinting against the sun.
"You asshole!" Oliver growls, shoving me up against the wall out of nowhere. His forearm goes across my throat, pinning me against the bricks. He's a bristling wall of fury, his eyes narrowed on my face as he snarls at me. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"
"So…you talked to Paisley," I say, resigned. I don't even try to fight back. If he wants to hit me, it's not like I don't deserve it.
