Page 76 of Stolen Dreams

I’m sorry, Fire Eyes. Sorry I opened my stupid fucking mouth and told you to leave. Sorry I wasn’t brave enough to ask you to stay. Sorry I wasn’t smart enough to figure out how to explain to Tucker why you’d stayed the night. Sorry I come with baggage that seems to outweigh my rational mind. Sorry I wrecked us before we really had the chance to get started.

The backs of my eyes sting as I read the message again, as I picture him frustrated and visibly upset.

God, I want to say yes to him. Tell him he can see me tonight. Tell him to come over so we don’t have to do this in inflectionless messages.

But he hurt me. And to right those wrongs, he needs to work for it. He needs to earn my time.

Tonight wasn’t an “official” date, but my parents are trying to set me up with him.

As soon as the message is sent, a pang in my stomach steals my breath. Insensitive as it is to send, I won’t lie to him. Tonight will not be the last time I see Adriel. Not if my parents have anything to do with it.

NO

FUCK NO

The pang is replaced with thrill as I stare at the screen.

Fight for me. If you want me, fight.

Please, Fire Eyes. I need to see you. I don’t care where, but it has to be tonight.

My thumbs hesitate as I mull over what to say. In the end, the same thought circles again and again… I want to see him. I want to do this in person. So, I cave… with stipulations.

What about Tucker?

With my parents. They’ll keep him overnight.

Quickest response yet.

Fine, but I make no promises. You hurt me, and I won’t forget it.

I’m not trying to be cruel, just honest. No sense in sugarcoating it.

And I’ll regret hurting you every day going forward. There aren’t enough apologies in existence to give you.

Before I have second thoughts, I send him my address and directions once he is on the Imala estate. He thanks me profusely and says he will see me soon.

For the next hour, I question if I made the right choice.

In a snug black T-shirt, houndstooth utility pants, and black sneakers, Ray dominates the foyer with his presence. Unlike previous times we’ve been in the same room together, he keeps his distance—just out of arm’s reach—and looks more nervous than I feel.

“Thanks for agreeing to see me.” His brow creases as he rocks back on his heels. “Can we sit?”

“Of course.”

I lead us into the living room and take a seat on the couch. He sits at the opposite end with his hands in his lap. I won’t admit how his distance hurts as much as his behavior the other night. But him intentionally adding distance between us is a blow to the chest.

“I panicked,” he says as he runs his fingers through his hair. “I freaked out, made an irrational decision, and hurt you.” Glassy brown eyes stare across the couch and pin me in place. “I will never forgive myself for what I said. For what I did. For how I hurt you. And us. The second I thought it, let alone said it, I hated myself. You have to know I regret it.” He leans forward, drops his elbows to his knees, and rests his head in his hands. “If I could go back and do it differently, I would. In a heartbeat.”

Frustration and devastation shape his frame as he presses the heels of his palms to his forehead.

“Then why?” The biggest question of all. If he hates what he did, if he instantly regretted it, why did he do it? Why put either of us through misery?

He turns his head to look in my direction. Dark shadows blend with sorrow and paint the skin beneath his eyes a pale purple. “Have you ever been so thoroughly destroyed by someone it warps the way you look at everyone else?”

I shake my head.

Tears rim his dark eyes a beat before he sits up and blinks them back. “I have. Not that it’s an excuse for my behavior.”

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