Page 63 of Body Check

With stiff motions, I gesture at her half-eaten pancake. Gruffly I ask, “You want them to box that up for you?”

She blinks down at her plate, her cheeks blooming with color. “Ah . . . Um, no, thanks. I think I’m . . . yeah, I think I’m good.”

I slide out from the booth.

Blindly feel for my wallet in the pocket of my mesh shorts.

My heart beats in time with my footfalls as I find our waitress and pay for our meal.

“How was the food? Everything all right?”It was perfect.

“Need a box?”Nah, no boxes.

“’Kay, you and your wife have a great night now.”Thanks . . . we’ll do that.

I return my card to my billfold and stuff it back into my pocket.

Shove my fingers through my hair and quickly deliberate how I broach the topic of dating with Holly. I fully believe that we can come back from our past to build something new—based on the sex we had on my car, that area of our relationship doesn’t need mending.

Our hearts do, and I’m fully prepared to do whatever it takes to earn back Holly’s.

Holly Belliveaux Carter.

Carter.I shake my head, blowing out a heavy breath. Keeping my name alone leaves the impression that she’s not over us, not completely, which definitely works in my favor. And God knows I’m not over her.

When I near our table, she’s already picking up her purse and sliding the strap over her shoulder. Her blond hair is in disarray, completely disheveled from my fingers spearing through the silky strands. She pauses when she spots me, spine snapping straight. Blue eyes stare back at me, wide and hurt and—

I stick my hand out, palm up.

Her gaze drops to the offering. “What am I supposed to do with that?”

She doesn’t say the words with a single trace of heat, only genuine perplexity.

I step in close, so that she’s got to lift her chin to maintain eye contact. “Take my hand, Holly.”

Nose scrunching, her cheeks flush even brighter. “I’m sorry, but why should I? You demanded a confession and then youwalked away. Holding hands is all about trust, and right now I’m thinking I’d trust a random person on the street more than—”

I take her hand anyway, cutting off her rant by sliding my palm against hers.

Our fingers tangle, palms kiss.

Her chin kicks up defiantly, and I’m tempted to lean down and brush my mouth over hers. Instead, I wind my way to the front door of the diner, pulling her along behind me. She splutters at my back but follows anyway.

South Street is eerily quiet at this time of night when we step out of the diner. A lone cabbie meanders down the road, and I can hear the distant sound of laughter and music from nearby Chinatown.

I cut a right at the intersection, and then duck into a narrow alleyway between two large buildings. Pressing my back to the dirty, stone façade, so that Holly isn’t resting against it herself, I bring her body in close. Cup my hands around her biceps, then slip them up to rest on her slim shoulders.

“I’m sorry,” I tell her, “I’m so fuckin’ sorry for making you feel like I didn’t care. That I wasn’t proud of you and everything you’ve done. That you felt, even for one damn second, that you were taken for granted . . . and that when you were no longer there in reach every moment of the day, you weren’t worth my time anymore.”

I watch her swallow roughly, her face twisting to the side to stare at the busier stretch of road off to our right. In this alley, though, it’s just us.

No outside world.

No interruptions.

Just us and all the hurt and heartache and the goddamn love for her that once consumed me—thatstillconsumes me.

“That’s on me.” I duck my head, putting myself squarely in her line of sight. “I take full responsibility for letting you go when I didn’t want to do so in the first place. You needed more—you needed our relationship to change—and I retreated to the familiar instead of giving you every ounce of the support and dedication that you gave me so freely for years.” Squeezing her shoulders lightly, I go on, “I own that.Allof it. Nothing I can say now can change any of those decisions, but I want to try again, Holls.” The pressure beats at my temples and this time has nothing to do with my headaches and concussions and everything to do with the fear of the woman in front of me telling me no. “Shit, I don’t even want totry. I’ll do whatever it takes for you to see that we belong together.”

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