Page 40 of Mistletoe Misses
That means he saw things I’m not proud of and later deleted. “None of my past relationships were serious. I didn’t understand why they never went anywhere until you came back.”And showed me where I left my heart.Taking his hand, I hold it gently between us. “My feelings for you are as strong as they were then. How could I give my heart to another when it’s not mine to offer?”
“That’s not helping.” Pulling free, he rises and stalks across the room.
“Helping what?”
He whips around to face me, the unrestrained anger and pain I saw at his parents’ house back with a vengeance. “Me gettingover you,” he blurts, twisting the jagged weapon lodged in my breastbone until my heartache bleeds out.
“Is that what you want?” I manage through the pain.
“I thought I did.”
At the past-tense use, hope forms like a soothing bandage on my wound, allowing me to ask, “And now?”
“I don’t know.” His hands rub down his face and slump by his sides.
“What if I tell you again? Say it plainly so there’s no miscommunication. You can let it sink in before deciding.”
Cautiously, I cross to him and take his hands. He doesn’t flinch or retreat. His eyes find mine and hold me captive while he wades through his emotions. From disbelief to resentment to hurt and finally curiosity. He feels it all, but at least he isn’t running.
“What is it?” he whispers, caution shredding his voice and me in the process.
“I love you, Maddox. I never truly understood how much until I saw you again.”
His breath hitches and holds, and I can see it strangling him. A hard swallow ripples in his throat. “You don’t know me. I’m not the same person I was back then.”
“Maybe not, but I see the man you’ve become and would like to get to know him better. A trial run second chance, so to speak.”
He steps away to put some space between us and turns his back to me.
“You don’t have to answer tonight,” I offer, not wanting to rush him. “Think about it, and see how—”
He whips around, eyes laser-focused on me. “I think about nothing else, Carmen. Twenty-four seven, you’re all I ever think about, even though I try not to.”
“Maddox.” I want to be comforted by knowing I’ve been on his mind, but he makes it sound like a problem—like he wishes he could forget me.
I go to him, and he mirrors me, fueling my suspicions and fears. He’s so close, but I can’t touch him and that may hurt worse than being apart.
“I need more time,” he says.
“Okay,” I concede. Whatever he wants, he can have it, but I won’t let him walk out of my life without a fight.
He watches me a bit, turmoil over what to do evident in his eyes, before heading to the door. Framed in the opening, he looks back at me, and I’m struck once again by how beautiful he is. Everything from his physical appearance down to his generous heart. Kaitlyn had been right, and there’s no sense in denying it any longer. Maddox is my soulmate, and without him, I’ll be forever lost.
“See you tomorrow,” he says, thankfully proving he hasn’t shut me out yet, and snaps his fingers for Trixie to follow.
“Tomorrow it is.”
???
Maddox
It’s 3:05 AM, and Carmen’s confession and request for a second chance has kept me up half the night. My thoughts keep rocking back and forth between frustration that our past came up in conversation and relief that it did. Wanting to take her offer and wanting to take five giant steps backward. Missing her more than usual and being grateful for the wide berth she’s giving me. It’s maddening.
While our talk tonight opened a few old scars, it also healed others. I no longer feel like I’m suffocating when she’s close, and my instinct to run hasn’t elbowed me in the ribs, so that’s progress. Maybe my feelings for her weren’t buried as deep as I thought … or at all.
I sit up and strip my T-shirt off my sweating body. Can I still be in love with Carmen? That possibility has spiked a few internal defense mechanisms, waking up Trixie. She trots up from the foot of the bed to give me a few lazy blinks.
“Sorry, girl.” I rub her fluffy head to make up for the sudden movement. Her big, glossy eyes look at me with concern, melting my anxiety like it never had a thorny grip on my throat in the first place.
