Page 76 of Every Thought Taken

My palms sweat and I press them to the sides of my thighs, nonchalantly wiping them on my jeans.

With a subtle shake of his head, he continues. “Last night.” He licks his lips and I can’t help but stare. “You confessing how much you missed me.” My eyes dart back to his. “How?”

Thrown off by his question, I mentally stumble backward.How?What a redundant question. He has to be joking. “I don’t understand.” Really, I don’t get it. Yesterday, outside the store, I admitted missing him. He questioned it then as well, but also said he missed me too. So how is it odd for me to repeat the sentiment?

He shoves his hands in his pockets and rocks back on his heels, his lips tightening a second before he speaks. “Just felt like there was more to it. Like you repeating it, emphasizing it, hinted at something else.”

God, I want to touch him. Reach out, tug his hands from his pockets, hold them with mine, and lace our fingers.

But we aren’t those people anymore. My heart is still his, but I don’t know if his is still mine.

Realization hits as I stare at him. My stomach cramps and nausea crawls up my throat. I backpedal and second-guess every thought I’ve had since seeing him again. Now that it’s surfaced, I can’t shake the thought.

What if Anderson is in love with someone else?

Gut-wrenching as it is, it makes sense. He is happy. Happier than I have ever seen him. Easy smiles and comfortable socialization. Occasional laughter mixed with a more laid-back energy. Strength in the way he carries himself and confidence in his words and tone.

His hands leave his pockets as he takes a step forward. In a blink, they cup my cheeks, his thumbs softly skating my cheekbones. And then he tips my head, lifting my bewildered gaze to his inquisitive eyes.

“What’s going through that pretty head of yours?”

Pretty…

Calloused thumbs gently brush my cheeks again and my eyes drift closed. Heat spreads from the point of contact and blooms like a flower seeing the sun for the first time. For three ragged breaths, I bask in the warmth blanketing my skin then meet his waiting stare.

“Talk to me—”

“Are you in love with someone else?” I blurt out before I lose the courage.

His whole body stiffens, the pads of his fingers firmer on my jaw. Eyes tight and narrowed, the muscles in his cheeks flexing. Each reaction is a blow to the chest. A slap to the face.

The longer it takes him to answer, the harder my heart bangs beneath my breastbone. The longer he remains unmoving, the tighter my rib cage constricts around my lungs. A light sheen of sweat blankets my skin, my fingernails digging into my palms as I hold my breath and wait. Wait for something, anything, from him.

As if he feels my impending panic attack, he softens. His warm breath faintly brushes my lips a beat before his thumbs caress my cheeks. The tight lines along his jaw and the corners of his eyes relax.

“Breathe, North.” Another stroke of his thumbs as he drops his forehead to mine. “Please breathe.”

I gasp, cool air filling my lungs and soothing the burn. But it isn’t enough. Not even close. Because he still hasn’t answered my question. “Ander…” I choke out his name on a whisper.

“No, Helena.” His eyes fall shut. “Never.”

Sweet relief replaces dread. The sharp pain in my chest fades as my heart returns to its normal, steady rhythm. My fingers unfurl at my sides as my arms tremble. Without hesitation, I reach for him. Fist the cotton of his shirt in my hands and sigh.

It doesn’t escape my attention that he called me by my given name and not the nickname only he uses. As if to make his point more notable. To reinforce the meaning behind those two simple words. To subliminally tell me he will never love anyone else. Not the way he did me.

The tip of his nose trails up the side of mine before he inches back and drops his hands. I immediately miss his touch, his warmth, him.

He peers over his shoulder, eyes on the door and window as people stroll past the store. On a deep inhale, he licks his lips, swallows, then brings his attention back to me. Vulnerability mars his expression, a hint of trepidation in his steel-rimmed blues.

“Now isn’t the time to get into heavy topics.” He exhales a shaky breath. “Something inside me broke when you left,” he confesses. “Things between us had been rocky before you and Ales left for college, but something about watching you drive off… it doesn’t get much darker.”

“Ander…” I inch closer to him. “I hate how we left things.” Reaching for his hand, I sigh when he doesn’t shake off my hold. “That last year was chaos and exhilaration and heartache. Sure, not being with you helped with school. But that’s it. Everything else was a blur because none of it mattered.” I drop my gaze to our hands and lock the visual in my memory before meeting his gaze once more. “The day I left for college, I bit my tongue so many times.”

He twists his hand and laces our fingers. “Why?”

I laugh without humor. “College wasn’t my dream. I went for my parents. I went because it’d been drilled into my head that college equals a future with more opportunities. While I believe that has merit, I also accept college isn’t for everyone. Sure, I acquired an abundance of business knowledge. But everything I needed to know to run this shop”—I wave my free hand toward the open store—“I learned from Gayle. It came easier because I’d been taught record keeping and marketing and general hospitality, but I would’ve learned those things without college too. Just differently.

“When Lessa and I left for Washington State, I desperately wanted to tell her to turn around. Our goodbye didn’t sit well with me. Hell, senior year didn’t sit well with me. Every mile marker we passed…” The backs of my eyes sting as I shake my head. “The farther we got, the more it hurt.”

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