Page 36 of The Healing Touch

She shook her head and scooted backward toward the books and the pre-order bags. “Don’t, Dimitri. Just leave it alone.”

“Becca…”

“Please.”

The anguish in her tone shut him up. He sat there, rubbing his legs, his dick long forgotten. He’d missed it. When did it start? Had it been there all along, and he was too self-obsessed to see it? Probably. She loved him. Said it to him every time she said goodbye. Hell, she’d even braved her own anxiety to help him. She loved him.

No, she wasin lovewith him.

And he couldn’t return that. Yes, he loved her. Truly loved her, but the forever kind of love? He didn’t know if he’d ever felt that. Maybe what he felt for her was the forever kind of love, and he was too stupid to see it. Fuck, he needed to talk to someone.

The ironic thing was the one person he’d have talked this out with was Becca, but that was out of the question.

She started putting books in bags, ignoring him completely. She was hunched over, withdrawn. He’d done that to her, pushed her so far into herself, she felt the need to shield herself with silence.

He grabbed his shoes, his phone, and left the room, not sure what to say to her.

Becca let out her breath when he left. He knew. She’d seen it in his eyes. He finally realized the depth of her love for him.

And he’d left.

So much for her fantasy of him realizing how much he loved her too and vowing his undying devotion. She laughed, the sound brittle. Romance novel enthusiast that she was, she’d held out that hope, but there wasn’t going to be an HEA for her.

Instead of confessing love, he’d run from her and her feelings. How the hell were they going to get through this weekend with this awkwardness now invading their relationship?

She knew this trip was a bad idea. She should have listened to that wise old woman clucking at her in the back of her head, but no. She’d given in to him because of how much she loved him.

And what had it cost her?

Probably the only real friend she’d ever had.

Stifling a sob, she started to put books into bags and tried to focus on that instead of the sounds of her heart shattering into a thousand tiny stars to fill up the heavens with lost chances and unfulfilled wishes.

Chapter Ten

Dimitri walked until he found a small park and sat down on the first bench he came to, the burning in his legs a welcome sensation. It helped combat some of the shock currently running through every cell in his body.

She loved him.

How the fuck had it happened and he’d not seen it?

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He’d kept pressing her, and she’d tried to stay away, to put distance between them because if she gave in, it would mean more to her than it did him. He was a fucking romance author, so he knew that was how she’d feel. He’d written that so many times, but in his books, the women always ended up with their man. Destiny and all that.

Maybe subconsciously he’d known all along, and instead of letting himself admit it, he’d acted on it in his books? He groaned and let his head rest in his hands. Too much psychobabble, even for him. What was he going to do? How was he going to go back in that room, knowing he couldn’t give her what she wanted?

He pulled out his phone and called the one person who might help him.

“Son.” The deep sound of his father’s voice instantly calmed him. The old man had always been the person he looked up to and asked for advice. Ronin Kincaid never judged, never talked to his sons in a condescending manner, and never got so angry he couldn’t see reason. He was who Dimitri hoped to be one day.

“Hi, Papa. I didn’t wake you, did I?” It might be early afternoon here, but it was getting late in Russia.

“It’s only nine p.m. I’m not in the grave yet.”

Dimitri laughed at the disgruntled sound of his father’s voice. The man might be fifty, but he was in better condition than his sons were. He’d probably go to the grave with his soldier’s physique. “How you been, old man?”

Ronin snorted at the old man jab. “I’m good, but from the sound it, you’re not so good. What’s wrong, boy?”

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