Page 22 of Healing You
She let out a deep breath, feeling the air slowly leave her lungs. “Love. I needed your love.”
“Need? Or needed?” he asked.
“Needed. Past tense. You forfeited access to my heart thirteen years ago.” His eyes fell to the quick rise and fall of her breasts, and she became acutely aware of each breath she took. “You forfeited access to those, too,” she reminded him, unable to help the little smile that kicked up her lips.
His gaze shot back to her face, that twinkle of humor lighting up his features once more, but his eyes remained serious. “Well, maybe now I want a mulligan.”
She shook her head. “There are no mulligans here.”
“A rematch, then.”
Yvonne snorted a laugh, rolling her eyes. “This isn't baseball, Steve.”
“Good, I hate baseball. Always been more of a football fan, myself.” He took another step, closing what little space was left between them. “Come on. Give me a chance. ”
She relaxed at his light tone and casual swagger. But even though her brain put its defenses down, her body was still tense as could be.
“What sort of ‘chance’? We're in the middle of town on a crowded Sunday. What the hell do you expect me to do? Throw you down right here and straddle you across this bench?”
“Challenge accepted.” His breath hitched, and a smile twitched at the corners of his mouth. “If that's what you need to do to assert your independence, then I am happy to do my part.”
“That wasn't a challenge.”
“Well, it certainly didn't sound like a threat.”
Yvonne took a step closer, her nipples pushing against the soft cotton of her tank top. One deep breath and she would feel her body brush against his. One tiny step away from being pressed flush against him. God, it had been a long time since she'd felt any human contact. Even her own parents didn't hug her very often. It had been months since she'd felt a man's arms wrapped around her body, since she'd smelled the spicy male scent surround her or the heat and weight of his body on top of her.
She blinked open and slowly brought her gaze to his. “Making my own choices in life also means that I don't let myself be manipulated anymore. When and if I decide I want you—it'll be a decision we make together. Because unlike you... unlike my mother, and father, and Jonah, I will respect you enough to allow it to be a conversation, and not an overhaul.” At that, Yvonne stepped back, feeling the pain of distance between them.
Okay, maybe Steve didn't quite deserve all of that. Maybe he was just being cute and playful. But Yvonne wasn't in a tickle-fight kind of mood. He’d hurt her. Yes, it was thirteen years and a lifetime ago, but it didn't change the facts: that he ripped her heart out of her chest and didn't bother sticking around to see if it had been repaired properly. It didn't change the fact that he had walked away before she could also hold his hand as he healed. She may have had the more extensive internal injuries, but his were more visceral. And a constant reminder to him of how she had helped cause their accident. And maybe he could laugh that off with cute jokes, but she couldn't. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
From over Steve's shoulder, Yvonne caught her friend Kyra's eyes. Stunned, staring at them, nose to nose. She wasn't sure if it looked like they were about to kiss or fight.
“Um—sorry I'm late,” Kyra said, her eyes darting back and forth between her friend and Steve. “Everything okay here?”
“Everything's fine, Kyra. I was just leaving,” Steve said, backing away, his eyes remaining on Yvonne's. “But if you feel like talking about this more, I'll be going for my run around six-thirty tonight.”
Despite that charming Tripp smile he flashed her, Yvonne held strong, crossing her arms and forcing her mouth to stay in a straight line. “As if you could keep up,” she said, straight-faced.
“Now that sounds like a challenge.” His grin widened. Damn him. With that, he turned and headed down the street toward his car.
“What the hell was that about?” Kyra asked.
“That was a man who can't make up his damn mind.” Then again, Yvonne couldn't make up her mind either, so maybe Cupid was onto something.
Shaking away the uneasy feeling, she turned back to Kyra, smiling. As usual, her best friend was wearing a low-cut, tight top in a shade of fuchsia that would burn Yvonne's retinas if she weren't wearing sunglasses. A slim leopard print belt hugged her waist and cute little capris with leopard ballet flats. She looked like something right out of the Pink Ladies—and she rocked it. It wasn't a look that Yvonne could pull off, but Kyra made it work, and she looked both badass and cute as hell.
“He's a Tripp,” she said, eyebrow arching. “What did you expect? I thought you moved on from him years ago?” Even as she asked the question, Kyra didn't seem too confident in Yvonne's assertion that she was over Steve. Not when she was a teenager, and not even as recently as a few months ago.
“Guess I'm just a glutton for punishment.”
Steve hit the button on his phone, changing to the speaker setting. “Call Cam,” he said aloud. The phone rang a handful of times and as Steve was about to give up, his older brother answered.
“I need to cancel lunch,” Steve blurted out.
“What? Why?”
Damn. He had no good reason other than he wanted to go home and sulk. Despite the playful banter, Yvonne had thrown a few forceful right hooks, completely knocking him off balance. “Not feeling well.”
