Page 15 of Even if You Fall

Setting my phone down, I ignored the knot in my stomach as I hurried to wash my face, hoping to scrub the image of mesmerizing eyes and an angry scowl from my mind as well.

It truly made no sense for Adam Thatcher’s ridiculously handsome face to be plaguing me the way it had been all day. He hated me—that was clear. It didn’t matter that I thought he was being dramatic for reacting so strongly to our unfortunate encounter when he’d first walked into the office this morning, the animosity was real and undeniable. And yet, I’d thought of him for most of my day and had found myself wishing he’d been the one leaning against the desk, flirting with me, instead of Hudson.

“Ridiculous,” I whispered as I finished drying my face.

It was bad enough that I’d fallen hopelessly in love with a married man. I didn’t need to start falling for one who hated me simply for existing.

With a self-admonishing sigh, I left the bathroom and headed for a long, deserved night on the couch, stopping in the dining-room-turned-library as I did. Scanning the floor-to-ceiling shelves, I reached for one of my favorite books, needing the comfort tonight, then turned just as the doorbell rang.

I gripped the book tighter as if it might slip from my fingers but simply stood there for long seconds, staring in the direction of the entryway, as my heart pounded against my ribs.

It could’ve been anyone—my parents, a salesperson, Han Solo,anyone—but with every strained beat of my heart, I knew it wasn’t justanyone. That text this afternoon had a tiny voice screaming over the warning bells in my head that Owen Vance was standing outside my door.

A little jolt went through me when another chime sounded through the house, followed by a few raps of knuckles against the door. And then I was moving, telling myself over and over there was still a slim chance it could be someone else, all while knowing I was giving into that Owen Vance pull without even seeing him.

My hand shook as I reached for the doorknob, and then a breath rushed from me when I opened the door to find him standing there. Just as handsome and devastating and awful as I remembered.

In an instant, icy fingers trailed up my spine and grabbed tight, leaving me cold and nauseous, and wishing I could fall into his arms.

“Chlo . . .”

“I told you I’d get a restraining order,” I reminded him, voice barely more than a breath.

Owen’s head shook as if letting me know I wouldn’t do that. “We need to talk.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” I informed him and took a step back to shut the door, but he pushed forward so he was standing partially inside the house, blocking me from shutting him out.

“I left her.”

The demand for him to back up died on my lips, and for a long while, I just stared at him.

Some foolish part of me reacted to the news. Some terrible part of me was happy and wondering what this meant forus. But that wasn’t a part of myself I could revisit ever again. It wasn’t a part of myself Iwantedto revisit.

My head shook slowly at first, then more quickly. “You’re lying.”

“I’m not.”

“You’re lying,” I repeated through clenched teeth. “And I don’t care. I don’t care because we’re done. We’vebeendone, Owen. I shouldn’t have to keep telling you this.”

“Don’t say that,” he crooned as he crowded in closer, easily slipping a hand around my waist and pulling me against him.

I’m not sure what it said about me that I instinctively swayed toward him all while my stomach lurched as if I might throw up on him right then, but I finally managed to shove my book against his chest—pushing against him when he tightened his hold.

“Don’t say that when I left her for you,” he continued in a tone that had my arms weakening because that tone had always gotten to me.

I would’ve done anything for that tone. Ihaddone anything for that tone.

That tone made me feel like I was the only person in his world. Like I hung the moon and stars each night. Like I was hiseverythingwhen I never had been.

Funny how I’d never understood why he’d chosenmeof all people when it’d been blatantly obvious he could have his pick of women, only to find out that I’d just been one of many...

“You said you were divorced before we ever got together,” I reminded him, the words coming out weak and dejected when I’d meant to spit them at him with all the malice I truly felt for this man. “We would’ve never been anything if I would’ve known you were still married—happily, according to her.”

“I messed up,” he said, the raw anguish in his voice making me go still. “I messed up, Chlo, I know that. But I can’t lose you.”

For one horrible moment, I believed him.

Until I felt that chill still clinging to my spine. Until I once again took notice of the churning of my stomach.

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