Page 14 of It's Always Us

“Please go.”

Two simple words that strike like a thousand-pound gavel.

I take her in a few moments longer, trying to understand everything I don’t. Her sad eyes cause my throat to constrict, and the pain is so great I can’t bear it.

I walk to the door, gathering myself and clearing my throat. “Don’t walk down that aisle unless you’re certain it’s the rest of your life because I will never believe it’s not supposed to be us. You and me. Forever.”

I pull the door open, and a rush of cold air hits me. I stand in the doorway, needing to look at her one more time. My hand finds the spot on my ribs that’s been permanently branded and will burn for eternity.

“You can deny it, but it’s always been us, Lex.” She hasn’t moved an inch, and I try to memorize every detail of her. “Lock this door. If you work here at night, it needs to be locked.”

One hand moves up to tug at one of her earrings. It’s a nervous habit, and it’s just enough to know I’ve gotten under her tough-as-nails skin.

“I’ve missed you, and I have this strange feeling you’ve missed me, too.” I drop my gaze to the floor, knowing I’ve given it my all. “This life is hard enough. We both need you to use that number.”

I step out the door, letting it clang shut. I wait, making sure she locks it before I carry myself back to my rental car, praying she’ll call. It’s been eight years, but she’s getting married in two days. She has to usethat number.

Chapter 4

LEX

I rub my swollen, crusted-shut eyes. There’s a tearing sensation as I pry them open, and they burn. I lie perfectly still, letting my chest rise and fall while trying to ease out the arrow shot straight through my heart. It’s painfully suffocating, as if my lungs are filling with fluid.

My entire body aches with the torment of reliving every single moment of last night over and over again. Every single second hurts like hell, but that doesn’t even begin to describe the pain I saw in Mark’s eyes as he stood at the door, telling me he’d missed me.

Mark.I let out a long, slow breath, swallowing the lump that reemerges in my throat. I squeeze my eyes shut tight, unable to believe that he was really here.Mark was here.

Hearing his voice, feeling his touch, and having him tell me he’s thought of me all this time is definitely not what I need, but I can’t say it’s not everything I’ve ever wanted. I didn’t need to lay here all night thinking about every word he said and wondering if it was all true, but I did.

If it’s possible it’s true, then why now? Why would he wait all these years and come back now? Two days before I was supposed to get married. How did he even know?

If social media can be trusted, which is about as reliable as an old Dodge Neon, then Mark has dated nearly half of the female celebrity population. Coming back, telling me he loves me, seems . . . ridiculous, and I have to wonder if I’m just the thing that simply got away. I’m nostalgic, a dream, a memory.

But if the guy that walked into the garage last night is the Mark I knew—the one I fell in love with at sixteen and have never stopped—then coming here and telling me all of that was putting his entire heart on the line.

Mark is a bleeding heart on his sleeve guy, hiding behind a fun-loving exterior. He’s tough as steel, but even pipes crack when too much pressure strikes those hidden weak spots. But he’d never let anyone see. Only those he completely trusts, and at one time, that person was me. It’s hard for me to believe that after what I did, he’d still allow me that kind of vulnerability.

I want to see and talk to him, to know if what he said is real and true. I want to run away with him, run so far the pain and the past disappear. But there are reasons why I didn’t follow Mark when he left, and not one part of those reasons has changed.

I roll to my side, pulling a pillow over my head. Trying to ignore my feelings for him when he was far away was hard enough. Trying to ignore them after last night is impossible.

He appeared before me, tall and strong, looking so much the same but completely different. Those chocolate brown eyes stabbed me clear through.

I squeeze my eyes shut, knowing it would be easier if I could just forget. But, no. He was so self-assured and confident, as if he knew exactly what he was doing. It was almost more than I could withstand. Everything he said, all the things I’ve dreamed of hearing him say, each word piercing the facade I’ve spent years molding into place.

I bury my face further, the burn consuming sore eyes and throat all over again. I might have believed he was a figment of my imagination. But then, he touched me.

The trace of his fingers still lingers on my skin. Gentle but commanding. Soft but sure. But those hands, the moment they held me close, my body tucked into his, that was it. One second longer, and I wouldn’t have been able to let him go. I would have welded myself to him and stayed there forever.

Those freaking hands. The hands of the one and only man I have no choice but to accept my heart will ever belong to.

But that’s exactly the problem. When you love someone, not only with your whole heart but your body and soul, too, you’ll do whatever it takes to protect them. To let them be free. To save them. To let them live the life they were always meant to have.

A fist rams into my stomach again with the vision of his beautiful, handsome face staring back at me. My skin warms with a sticky sweat, and I toss the pillow to the side. A groan mixed with a whimper, full of self-loathing, escapes for not telling him the truth—that I could never marry a man unless it were him. But telling him wouldn’t change a thing.

I drag myself out of bed, doing the same thing I do every day—keep on going.

I throw on old jeans, a T-shirt, and a flannel, then brush my teeth. I fill my cheeks with air and let it out, seeing my face in the mirror. My eyes look like two puffy, red squishies.Crap.I slather the swollen, red circles under my eyes with cream, hoping it contains sympathy and works magic this morning.

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