Page 133 of Not Over You

Those words feel as if a knife is plunged into my chest and turned. I can barely stand the idea of us not being together even if it’s been a long time since we were. We got it all wrong so many times but when we got it right, I was happier than I knew a person could be. We made sense, the two of us, until I guess we stopped making sense. Maybe she is right. Perhaps our time together was what it was, and that is all it will ever be.

“What if...what if this guy is great and we hit it off and I want to see him again? How do I see someone else when Bran is there, watching it happen? How could I ever do that to him?”

Hailee sighs and hugs me tighter, not having the answer for the complicated question. I appreciate when she talks things out with me, when she gives advice, when she listens to me talk myself in or out of something. But what I appreciate the most about her is that she does not offer answers when she does not have them. We don’t have to know everything.

Connor does not have to say it, but I know he does not approve of me going out with someone tonight. He always expected Bran and me to work things out, even all these years later. And maybe I did too, honestly. Hell, maybe I still do. With my life in such chaos, I cannot even begin to know what will come tomorrow or the next day for me. I thought I had it all planned out, but it blew up in my face. Starting tonight, I am done following any sort of plan I had because I realize maybe I am not good at plans.

“Be safe,” Connor orders as I head out, “Would hate to have to hurt someone tonight.”

“I will be safe. You know where I am going, and the Sherriff's office is a block away from where we are meeting. I will be just fine and if I am not, you will be the first to know, I promise,” I ensure him, letting them both wrap me up in a big hug.

Though I gave him that speech about being safe, as I head downtown, I realize for all my usual plans, I did not think this through. We never exchanged photos or even names. He just told me he would be in a navy suit with a red tie. When he told me that, I knew what dress I would be wearing so I told him he could not miss me in this dress. How am I going to find him?

Parking outside the cute little Tapas place, I take a moment to compose myself. I am here to have a nice night with someone I seem to have a connection with. I still feel a bit guilty, and I cannot stop thinking about Bran. How I would feel if he was out on date tonight with a woman he had connected with? I hate even thinking it. As I often do with my feelings, I pack it down tight and cover it up with a smile.

Inside the restaurant, it is lit with low, comfortable lighting and smells of spices and whiskey. A bar runs along the left side with a handsome man behind the counter mixing drinks with a flourish. I watch him for a moment before I turn towards the wall of intimate tables, wondering if I will be able to spot my date easily. Just as I start to head to the bar, I realize that yes, I will know just who my date is.

As my heart hammers in my chest, I find I cannot pull enough air into my lungs. A tornado of emotions twists through me as I stand there and lock eyes with the man in the navy suit with the red tie. Tall and broad, with that suit fitting him as if it were cut just for him, he is stunning. His dark hair is too long on top, but he never did listen to me when I told him to get a cut.

Bran. He is my date—and the man I have spent the past few weeks talking to.

Grinning at me, he closes the distance between us, his dark eyes trailing over me in a look that makes my stomach twist. God, when he looks at me that way, I forget we ever fought or fucked up. It’s a predatory look. One filled with possession and heat, and I always felt so special when he aimed it at me. Despite everything I knew that look was always just for me.

“Hi, Paisley,” his voice is rough and raw as he moves closer, dipping his head to catch my eyes, “God you look beautiful tonight. You were not lying about that dress. Jesus, babe,” he licks his lips and I watch the slow path of his tongue and feel my sex respond with a hungry pulse. I love that mouth of his and I know what he can do with it. I know he can make me come again and again with that mouth, with that silky tongue, and I am panting just remembering how good it was.

“Navy suit. Very classy, Bran,” I whisper, keeping my voice cool even as he moves so close my thighs brush against his slacks.

“Wanted to look nice for you,” he says, teeth nipping at his full bottom lip before his eyes come back to mine, “you really look amazing, Pais,” he whispers in his gravely sex voice.

Do I want to do this right now? Is this not a bad idea? Going out with him knowing he has led me on for the past few weeks? Not that he knew it was me, I suppose. Or maybe he did. Hell, maybe I knew it was him too. Maybe that is why talking to him was so easy. Suddenly I remember mentioning Bran more than once and my face flames.

“Did you know you were talking to me, Bran?” I whisper, my eyes darting away when he reaches out, brushing his fingers over my cheek.

“After a few days, I kind of thought it might be you. When you showed me some art, I was sure it was you,” he admits, his cheeks flushing a little, “I... Pais, I didn’t want to lose talking to you again. I know we have a lot of mess between us, but you were my best fucking friend and talking to you again has meant everything to me. I was not ready to give it up yet, but I get it if it pisses you off that I got you here tonight without telling you.”

It does piss me off. That he knew and I did not. That I shared things that I did not know I was sharing—but that I would want Bran to know. About my struggles making it in the big city, about feeling like I had failed myself by winding up back here, and about how badly I wished I could reach out to the one person I needed to talk to the most.

Turning, I rush from the little Tapas place, running blindly down the street. He showed me all over town today and we had such a good time. I wanted to see him again, but not like this. I am embarrassed and I feel so stupid. I don’t know where I am going but I need to get away from him.

Bran shouts after me and I laugh. Because I should know better. He never lets me run too far away. He always did chase after me. He likes to fight. I think it was a turn on for both of us. We almost always wound up in bed afterwards but not tonight. Even if that is the best sex we ever had.

His body crashes into mine and I second guess my resolve. It feels so good having him surround me, his big hands on my thighs, his hips flush against my backside. I always felt so safe and so adored in his arms. He brushes his lips against my ear, telling me to calm down and talk to him. So, I fucking talk, spinning to stare up at him in the moonlight.

“You knew. You knew how badly I wanted to talk to you. To be able to come to you like I always did before and bitch and bemoan my shitty life choices, but I couldn’t because.... because I hurt you so badly making those choices. You knew I wanted to tell you how bad I felt and how I missed you. Why...why didn’t you just tell me? Did you want me to embarrass myself?”

My voice is taut, tears stinging my eyes, my face flushed with shame. Was he laughing at me this whole time? Was he getting off on knowing how much I regretted the years I had stayed gone? And how I hated losing touch with him, the single most important person in my life? What sick game is he playing at?

“Because of this,” he sighs, cupping my face in his hands and brushing his nose against mine, “I missed you so fucking bad, Paisley. I was going to take whatever I could get from you. Do you think it doesn’t fucking kill me to know you stayed away from Connor and Hailee and their kids because you could not stand the idea of seeing me? Rips me apart, babe. I hate that you had to come home before you were ready. I do not hate that you are here. I missed you, Paisley. Not just as my girl, but as my best friend.”

Blinking up at him, I swallow the boulder in my throat. That tornado of emotions sweeps me up again and I am reeling. Missing him as my best friend is just the tip of the iceberg for me. Knowing I missed years of his life, of Hailee and Connor’s life and their kids, it guts me. I did this—I was a damn coward.

“What was your plan tonight,” I murmur, peering up at him with my heart galloping in my chest, “to get me here and....what? Talk about old times? Tell me how I screwed up by leaving and not looking back? Try to take me home?”

“My plan was to see you,” his tone his sharp, his dark eyes narrowing as he steps closer, “I screwed up so many times, Paisley. I never wanted to hurt you, but I know I did. And I lost you because of it. Talking to you again, seeing you again...is more than I deserve,” he whispers, his lips brushing against mine.

A low sound rumbles from his chest and I realize he is groaning. We stand on the sidewalk in an indecent embrace. I am clasped against his firm chest, my arms locked at his broad shoulders. His hands grasp my ass, and I am lifted against him. I whimper and tilt my head back, welcoming what I know is coming.

Bran growls as his mouth covers mine and I moan as his taste floods my senses. Sweet and minty and something that is him, something I still taste on my tongue from time to time. I close my legs at his hips, my fingers tangling in his dark hair, opening my mouth to his hungry tongue.

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