Page 22 of Tangled Up In You
“Nah, I’m good,” he said before bracing himself on the edge of the counter. After taking a few breaths, he lightly chuckled. “Okay, I might just have a beer instead. I’m not drunk, but the room is spinning just a little.”
I shook my head. “That’s called drunk, Cor.”
He held my gaze. “If you say so.”
I regarded him as he looked down. His long eyelashes created small shadows on the tops of his cheeks, and my chest tightened as other memories started to surface: us sitting by the lake before he tackled me and smiled down at me, his eyes bright and full of warmth.
I recalled the taste of him and how easily we used to laugh together. How he used to tell me we were each other’s firsts and only. But more than anything, I remembered the way he’d made me feel after we’d had sex—how he’d hold me close to his heart.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, moving his gray eyes back to mine.
I snapped out of my thoughts. “Nothing. Just zoning. It’s been a long week.”
Before I could do something stupid—like grab his face and crush my lips to his—I walked over to the French doors, putting distance between us.
“Hunter, I…” He took several steps forward before stopping just a foot or so in front of me. “With everything that’s happened since I got here, we haven’t really talked about what really happened with us.”
Shit. It was wishful thinking to hope he wouldn’t bring up that part of the past. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t somewhat eager to talk to him about it, but a bigger part of me knew it wouldn’t change anything.
We’d grown too far apart.
“You broke my heart,” he said with his voice cracking on the last word. A sound that mirrored the cracking in my chest. “I keep replaying those last few days over and over in my head, Hunter, and I can’t figure it out.”
My insides coiled, but I tried to keep a straight face. “There’s nothing to figure out. We drifted apart. It happens.”
“That’s bullshit,” he snapped, coming forward and grabbing my wrist. “I know we had that fight when I told you about USC, and I said things I shouldn’t have, but that shit you said over the phone came out of nowhere; that we wouldn’t have worked out if I’d stayed.” He released my arm but didn’t move away. Instead, he moved closer until his forehead rested against mine. “I was so close to coming home to you and then you shattered me. Why?”
My heart went wild and I yearned to put my arms around him. To bury my face in his neck like I used to do.
I stepped back.
If I told him the truth, he’d get pissed. Sometimes I got mad at myself for it too, but at the time, I’d convinced myself it’d been the right thing to do. Without me, he’d been free to do whatever the hell he wanted.
“It doesn’t matter why,” I said.
“Bullshit. It matters tome.” Corbin closed the distance between us again, and when I tried to walk away, he slapped his hand against the wall beside my head and barricaded me in. “Please, Hunter. Quit trying to run away and fucking talk to me.”
“We’ve both been drinking.” I met his hardened expression. “I don’t think it’s a good idea to talk about it tonight.”
His stare was unwavering and he didn’t move a muscle. “If not now, then when? Because I’ve been waiting a long ass time for answers.” His face softened and his hand moved to my neck, playing with the short strands of hair at my nape. “You’re the love of my life, Hunter. What the fuck happened to us?”
If I was being honest with myself, I was afraid of his reaction. It’d crush me if he agreed that I would’ve been a distraction back then. Was he dating someone else? He sure as hell hadn’t come out in the past seven years.
Maybe he never would.
“Like I said. We grew up, Corbin.”
“I don’t accept that answer,” he said, tightening his jaw.
“I need to get home. It’s late,” I said. The feel of him against me felt soright, but I refused to give into him. “Move your arm.”
Surprisingly, he did.
“You can’t drive home,” he pointed out. “You can crash in the guest room tonight.”
“Okay,” I said, knowing he was right. I wasn’t drunk, but I’d had too much to get behind a wheel. After brushing past him, I walked toward the staircase. But on the first step, I looked back at him. He was in the same spot in the kitchen, just staring at the wall. “Goodnight.”
He turned his head toward me, but didn’t say anything. Then, he walked out of sight. I heard another bottle being opened and a pain spread through my chest.
