Page 55 of Pulled Away

Chapter twenty

Ryan

Idrum my fingers on the table, trying to curb my impatience.

Four of the longest days of my life. Four days of an empty house, going to sleep wondering where she is, how she’s doing. Four days of waking up expecting her to be next to me, only to have my heart break when I realize that she’s not.

It’s been agony, and my mind shies away from the thought that this might just be a small taste of what my life might be like. A life without Aspen.

I keep my eyes focused on the door, so I see the moment she steps in. I take her in as she hesitates, looking around.

Seeing her catapults me right back to when we just started seeing each other. How I couldn’t get enough of her. How I’d obsessed about when I’d see her again, even while driving home from our date. I moved our relationship forward at lightning speed because when you know, you know, and I wasn’t about to let her slip through my fingers.

And that’s exactly what I did.

Her eyes find me, and my heart hammers as I watch her walk towards the table I picked in the corner. One that gives us a semblance of privacy.

She settles across from me, resting her arms on the table and gripping her hands. The seconds tick by while we take each other in. Finally, I break the silence.

“You look tired.”

“It’s nothing.”

Now that she’s here, I don’t know what to say. Where to start. I’m feeling like I’m facing a minefield—one I placed—with no idea how to navigate it.

“Where are you staying?”

I’m desperate to know. I’ve asked all her friends, but nobody will tell me anything. Not even Rose, and I’m pissed at her for it. All she kept saying when I expressed my concern for Aspen’s well-being was that she was fine, and that’s all I needed to know.

“It doesn’t matter.”

I sigh in frustration, glad when the server comes over, and we each order a coffee.

“You wanted to talk,” she finally says, shifting uncomfortably.

I’m staring at her like a creep, but I can’t help it. I love watching her and I could do it all day. Somehow, I lost sight of that, and I know it will be one of the biggest regrets of my life.

“I made a list,” I mutter, unfolding the piece of paper I’m clenching in a death grip.

“If I knew we were making lists, I would have made one,” she mutters, sarcasm dripping from her words.

“I have a lot to apologize for and I wanted to make sure I left nothing out,” I say, ignoring her words. “But before I get to the list, I want to tell you that you were right. About everything. It became…clear to me once we got there that Hadley had ulterior motives.”

“You don’t say,” she mutters again, but there’s no satisfaction on her face. Only anger.

“What you heard on the phone wasn’t what it sounded like. Hadley booked the holiday and there was some kind of mixup where they only booked one room…”

She lifts her eyebrows, and I look down in shame.

“Which I’m thinking wasn’t a mixup at all,” I mutter. “I never intended to share a room with her. I need you to believe that.”

“Just get to the point, Ryan. I’m so sick of hearing her name.”

I glance down at my list. I don’t have to look at it because I have every word memorized.

“I’m sorry I kept the truth of my past relationship,”—I grimace at the word because if I had the power to go back in time and change things, I would have ignored that little girl. I would never have allowed Hadley into my life—“with Hadley from you.”

Her eyes get all squinty. “So you’re apologizing for lying to me?”

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