Page 74 of The Space Between
“No one said she was.” He replies.
Damnit, Reece. I need someone to rage at.
I glance up. He’s watching me carefully from beneath the brim of his hat. He’s not judging. He’s not mocking. He wouldn’t. He’s just…watching.
“Then, what’re you thinking?” I snap.
“I’m thinking,” he says slowly as he leans his shoulder against the door jam, regarding me with his clear blue eyes, “that for the first time in six years, you’re not completely drowning. You’re living. And that scares the shit out of you.”
I don’t answer because he’s right.
Fucker.
Turning on my heel, I head home, back to my cabin.
I can’t face her like this, not with my head spinning and my chest full of ghosts. I strip the sheets from my bed, toss them into the wash, and stand under a scorching hot shower until my skin burns, and the water runs clear again. But no amount of scrubbing can erase the feel of her. Or the truth of what I felt when I was inside her.
It wasn’t just lust.
It’s not just heat.
It’s something deeper.
Darker. Dangerous.
Hope.
Two hours later,she knocks once, then pushes the door open without waiting for me to answer.
She’s wearing denim cutoffs and a cropped red tank top that shows too much shoulder and cleavage. Her hair is twisted up in some messy knot that makes me want to drag it down and see what she does when she’s breathless again.
But her face is cautious… guarded. She has small lines between her brows on her forehead.
“Hey,” she says quietly.
“Hey.” I reply.
I stand from the table, tension already coiling in my gut at what she’s about to say. The air is thick with tension.
“You left,” she says. “I woke up all alone…”
“I did.” I nod. Her tone isn’t angry. She’s not accusing me. It’s just filled with flat resolve… that might be worse.
“To think?” She asks.
I nod.
She bites her bottom lip, as her amber eyes search mine. “And… did you?”
I don’t know what to say.
Yes.
No.
Too much.
Not enough.
