“Fuck no. He kicked her to the curb.”
“Does it actually say that?”
“Ryan isn’t smooth. You have to let me translate.”
My chest warms. “He really isn’t.” But the warmth hurts. I’m staring at a bright, shiny memory of what I used to have.
I want it so badly.
But I can’t have it.
“You like that?” Dean asks.
“Yeah. He’s honest. He doesn’t try to charm me the way you do.”
Dean adopts his mega-watt smile. He shoots me an I know you want to fuck me look. “Charm is enjoyable for the charmed as much as the charmer.”
“Is that right?” I know Dean well enough to know he’s full of shit, but his smile is chipping away at the ice around my heart. It feels good, being the center of his attention, letting his radiance light up my sky.
It needs it.
The decorations are all bright, tropical hues, but they feel ugly and grey.
“You don’t laugh at my jokes?” Dean teases.
“I’m not in the mood.”
“‘Cause you’re cock hungry.”
I can’t help but laugh. He’s right. The ache between my legs is not helping matters any.
My body is still singing for Ryan’s.
My thoughts are still turning to his eyes, his hands, his lips, his cock.
Fuck, I want him pinning me against the wall.
I want him whispering come for me, baby in my ear.
I want him splitting me in half.
“Really fucking cock hungry.” He shakes his head. “If you weren’t Ryan’s main squeeze, I’d drag you to the bathroom to satisfy you.”
I laugh so hard I double over. Okay, his stupidity is helping. I almost feel normal.
The phone buzzes. I felt it. “Fuck.” Dean’s eyes bug out of his head.
It’s bad. It has to be bad. “Let me see that.”
“No. I’ll read it.” His voice is steady. Reassuring. Completely unlike Dean. “There’s no way he felt her. I saw him leave looking for you.”
“And?”
“He was worried.”
“He’s always worried.”
“When it’s about you, yeah. Why do you figure it is you tie him in knots?”
“Why am I standing here when I could be going through security?”
“‘Cause I’ll call Ryan and get him on your plane if you leave.”
Yeah, he will. Somehow, he’ll defy the laws of physics to do it.
I stare into Dean’s mischievous blue eyes. “Weren’t you with Kristen?”
“Yeah, I was with Kristen. At the party. Talking. I am capable.”
“You like her?”
“She’s fun. And hot. But not like that, no. I’m not gonna fuck some chick who screwed over my brother.”
“She didn’t—”
“The friend of my enemy is my enemy.”
“Still. Ryan wouldn’t care.”
“I have standards.”
“You do?” My voice isn’t quite teasing. It’s more confused. But I can’t help it. The world is a confusing mess at the moment.
“You think I’m gonna leave when one of you two might need me?”
“Yeah… Of course.”
He shrugs. “Yeah. Guess I would.” His voice is effortless, but it does nothing to hide the concern in his expression.
Fuck, Dean is struggling to bullshit.
This must be tragic.
It feels all wrong. But standing here, talking to him, is enough to make me forget. I’m wrapped up in Dean’s stupidity instead of in my loneliness.
Right now, it feels like it’s going to be okay.
As soon as I say goodbye…
“There’s plenty of hot chicks here. I’ll bang one back at the hotel. Tell you all about it tomorrow morning.”
“Tomorrow morning?”
“Take you back to the hotel—”
I shake my head.
“All right. Tuesday at work.”
I press my lips together.
“Leigh. A bet is a bet.”
“And if he doesn’t show?”
“Then I’ll be by your place as soon as I get off.”
“And?”
“And I’ll annoy you into coming back.”
I want to be there. I want to be under the heart string lights. I want to hear the bell ring and the tattoo guns hum and the guys laugh. I want all of it. But not with this space between me and Ryan.
“I can’t. I’ll get Em to fill in. Teach her what I know. She’s been asking me to go over shop admin forever. She really wants to have a hand in running it.” I motion give it back. “I can’t text her like this.”
“Agree to come.”
“You know I can lie now.”
“You wouldn’t. You have honor.”
“I’m gonna miss my flight.”
He hands my text over. “Only giving you this 'cause you’re gonna like what Ryan said.”
Ryan: I’m here if you want to talk. All night.
Ryan: Penny came by my room. She had a bottle of bourbon and a ‘you can fuck me if you want smile.’ I could have. She offered, more or less. But I didn’t want to.
Ryan: I’m not telling you this to win points. I’m telling you there wasn’t a single part of me that wanted that. I didn’t want her body or her affection or her love. I didn’t even want her apology. I told her what I really thought. I told her she and Frank are right together. That I’m happy for them. That I want the best for them.
Ryan: I felt it.
Ryan: As soon as I told her, I felt it. I’m done with her. Over her. Completely. It’s so much more fucking obvious right now, because I can feel a gaping hole in my gut. That’s you being gone, Leigh. Maybe that isn’t enough for you. Maybe it’s not enough that I want to be the person who cooks you dinner every night and wakes up next to you every day. Maybe it’s not enough that I want to watch your design company take off, and teach you to surf, and race you around the park. Maybe it’s not enough that you’re my favorite fucking person in the world. But you are. And I want all that. When I see my life, you’re in it. You are it. There are only three things I want. I want to do ink, I want to see the world, and I want you.
“Ryan said something good.” Dean’s voice brightens.
“No.” I bite my lip.
“You have a look.”
“I do not.”
“Like you’re thinking about going back.”
“No.” Kind of. I… I want to talk to him. I want to wrap my arms around him. I want to collapse in his bed.
Our bed.
I want everything to be ours again.
But I need him to be mine.
“You sure?” Dean asks. “You look like it.”
I want to, but I can’t. I need to be home. I need to be safe. I need Ryan to love me. I can’t have the latter. So I’ll have to take the first two. “I’m exhausted.”
“So crawl into bed, whisper I love you, I’m sorry, and collapse.”
I shake my head.
“He loves you, Leigh. You two are the only people who don’t see it.”
“How do you see it?”
“How do I not? It’s everywhere. He cooks you lunch every day. He gushes about you nonstop. He looks at you like you hang the sun.”
I bite my lip.
“He’s fucking obnoxious. Like Walker.”
I shake my head.
“He is. He does love you. Trust me. The guy’s my brother. I’ve known him for twenty-five years now.”
“I can’t.”
“Leigh—”
“I have to go home.” I have to be alone, in my apartment, away from everything that confuses me. And right now, everything confuses me.
I hug Dean goodbye.
“You sure?” he asks.
I nod.
“Let me know when you get in.”
“Let me know he’s okay.”
“He’s not. I guarantee it.”
“L
et me know he’s alive.” I hug my purse to my shoulder. Wrap my fingers around my suitcase.
He stares at me like he’s going to ask me to stay again.
But he doesn’t.
It’s a good thing.
I’m not sure I have another no in me.
Chapter 48
Ryan
After an hour of silence, my cell sings with a text from Leighton.
Leighton: Are you still going to the wedding?
My exhaustion fades into nervous energy. There’s a right answer to that question. But I’m so fucking past not going to Penny’s wedding.
I need to make her understand that.
Ryan: No. Where are you?
Leighton: Going home.
Ryan: I’ll come.
Leighton: You should stay. The hotel is nice. You paid for two more nights.
Ryan: I don’t give a fuck about that.
Leighton: You have to see Penny off.
Ryan: I have to talk to you.
Leighton: This is the last flight to LAX. The first one tomorrow is around six a.m.
Ryan: Are you asking me to chase you or telling me not to?
Leighton: I don’t know.
Ryan: What do you want?
Leighton: You know what I want.
Moonlight streams through the sheer curtains. It’s the only thing illuminating the dark room.
It’s beautiful, peaceful, serene.
It’s mocking me.
She wants me to love her.
The words are easier, but are they right?
Leighton: I have to go. We’re about to take off. I’m sorry I made such a mess of this.
Ryan: You didn’t.
Leighton: I did. But, you know what? I’m not sorry. I’ll never be sorry for falling in love with you. Enjoy paradise, Ryan.
There’s no way I can enjoy shit without her.
I’m sure she’s telling the truth about her flight taking off. But just in case—
I call Dean.
“Who is this?” he answers in his usual shit-stirring tone.
“She just get on a plane?”
“Sounds right. She went through security half an hour ago.”
“You’re still at the airport?”
“Yeah.”
“You couldn’t stop her?”
“I tried.” His voice gets serious. “She’s too hurt right now. Once she nurses her wounds, she’ll see it.”
“See what?”
“That you love her.”
Fuck, Dean being insightful is weird. Disarming.
For a second, I forget all the ugly shit surrounding us.
Then I blink and it all comes flooding back.
I want the easiness back. “You drove her instead of getting laid?”
“I don’t have a shortage of pussy.”
“You’re getting soft on me.”
He laughs. “Never had that problem. You’ll have to explain it.”
I laugh too. The familiarity of my brother’s teasing is comforting. Hell, his concern is comforting.
That hole in my gut is wide open.
I need Leigh. I need to make this right.
But there’s this freedom surrounding me.
I’m done with Penny.
I don’t give a fuck that she’s getting married tomorrow.
And not in that the lady doth protest too much kind of way.
It means nothing to me.
I’m letting go of my baggage.
I can have everything I want.
And I want Leigh.
“I gotta go, Dean.” I end the call before he can respond and I buy tomorrow’s first flight out of Maui.
Then I text Brendon to see if I can make the rest of this happen.
Of course it’s the middle of the night in California.
My phone stays quiet.
But I know he’s good for it.
Whether or not this works…
That’s anybody’s guess.
Chapter 49
Leighton
I sleep in fits. When I do, I dream about Ryan. When I press my eyelids together in an attempt to end my consciousness, I think about Ryan.
The hurt in his blue eyes.
The weight of his body on top of mine.
The feel of his palm against my lower back.
The promise in text message form.
When we start our descent into LAX, I give up on sleep. Read his text over and over again instead.
As soon as I told her, I felt it. I’m done with her. Over her. Completely. It’s so much more fucking obvious right now, because I can feel a gaping hole in my gut. That’s you being gone, Leigh. Maybe that isn’t enough for you. Maybe it’s not enough that I want to be the person who cooks you dinner every night and wakes up next to you every day. Maybe it’s not enough that I want to watch your design company take off, and teach you to surf, and race you around the park. Maybe it’s not enough that you’re my favorite fucking person in the world. But you are. And I want all that. When I see my life, you’re in it. You are it. There are only three things I want. I want to do ink, I want to see the world, and I want you.
If love is the sum of its parts, that’s love.
But is it enough?
I’m way too tired to put those pieces together.
We land. Taxi. Stand. I’m a zombie as I grab my carry-on and walk off the plane. Familiarity takes me through the maze of LAX. Past the stores, along the hallway, down the escalator to baggage claim.
But I’m not destined to climb into a ride share.
Iris is standing in front of the sliding doors.
She runs to greet me. Throws her arms around me and squeezes tightly. “You okay?”
I shake my head.
“I’m sorry.” She releases me. “Ryan asked me to pick you up.”
“Of course.”
“He’s sweet.”
“Even when he…” I don’t know how to end the sentence. My thoughts are too slow. My heart is too heavy. “It’s early.”
“That’s how much I love you.” She takes my suitcase and motions to the door. “Come on. I’m parked in the garage. I’ll buy you breakfast.”
I shake my head.
“Coffee.”
“You convinced me.”
This is a bait and switch—we’re at a restaurant, not a coffee shop—but the java is too good for me to complain.
I down my second cup. Revel in the dark, nutty, creamy, sweet deliciousness.
Iris offers a slice of bacon. “You should eat something.”
I motion to the empty cup of cream between us.
“That’s drinking.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“What if it’s chocolate?”
“I’m not a monster.”
She hails the server.
He stops at our table with a smile. “Yes?” Guys are always so sweet when you’re with another cute girl.
“More coffee and cream. Please.” I trace the outline of my mug.
“Do you have chocolate chip pancakes?” she asks.
“It’s not on the menu, but I’m sure I can make it happen,” he says.
“Great. We’ll take an order. Thank you.” She smiles you are eating, dammit.
I wait for the server to leave. “Do chocolate chip pancakes have any nutritional value?”
“Flour and eggs?”
“I might as well pour the sugar straight into my coffee.”
“Fine. Don’t eat them. Just look at them.” She takes a long sip of her coffee. Lets out a soft moan. “Mmm. I see the merits to filling up on this.”
“Right?”
“Ryan said you haven’t eaten since lunch yesterday?”
“Maybe. I don’t know.” It sounds right, but the last twenty-four hours are a blur of hurt and rejection. I really can’t remember.
The server refills our coffee and drops off a new cup of cream.
Iris shoots him a sweet smile. She fixes her coffee and takes a small sip. “
You want to talk about it yet?”
“Maybe.” My java is a caramel color, plenty sweet and creamy, but nothing compared to Iris’s half sugar and milk, half coffee concoction. “I guess it’s simple. I told him I loved him and he looked at me like I ripped his heart out.”
“You did.”
“Is it really asking too much, wanting him to love me back?”
“It’s been two weeks.”
I ignore her reasonable statement.
“You were okay with it then.”
“It’s different now.”
“How?”
“It just is.”
“Ryan has always been—”
“Hurt?”
She nods. “You knew he was hung up on his ex.”
“Yeah. But he’s not. Not anymore. At least, that’s what he says.”
Her eyes go wide. “He’s not?”
“He didn’t tell you?”
“He just asked me to pick you up. Offered to pay for our breakfast.”
“Of course.” He’s considerate about cushioning the blow of his rejection.
Only it might not be…
Fuck, my head hurts.
Downing half my coffee does nothing to help.
Iris leans back in her seat, but there’s nothing relaxed about her posture. Her gaze stays fixed on me.
At least the cafe is quiet. It’s a small place with a dozen tables and a cute, artsy vibe. The kind of place I’d take Ryan just to hear him insult the mass-produced paintings on the walls (they really are generic. Is the Eiffel Tower supposed to make me feel like this cafe really is Parisian?)
“You can’t drop a bomb like ‘he’s over his ex’ and not explain.” She snaps her bacon in half, offers it to me. When I shake my head, she takes a bite.
“He said he isn’t going to the wedding.”
“He’s coming after you.”
“Maybe.” The thought warms my chest. Sends the clouds packing. Makes the air sweeter. I want it to be true. I need it to be true. I need it too badly.
I can’t get my hopes up.
Her voice gets soft. “You were ready to be patient before.”
“It changed.”
“Why?”
“I thought, once we were together…”
“You thought you had a magic pussy?”
I can’t help but laugh. “I guess so.”
“Don’t we all.”
“You kind of do.”
She tilts her head to one side. “Uh-huh.”
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