As I walk by the bike reality settles in that I am not imagining things.
He's here.
Under the porch light, sitting on the cement front steps with his head hung low and his arms folded on his knees is him.
Oak's here.
Ever since I have given him that ultimatum last week I have hardly heard from him. I don't know whether I have forced him to retreat and put more armor on or made him give up the fight completely.
And I wanted to give into him.
But I couldn't do that.
As much as I want Oak, more than I have ever wanted a man, I also want us to be so much more than our physical connection.
I can fight for him all that I want, but if he keeps deciding to fight against me this war will never end.
And I desperately want this war to end.
My breath catches in my throat as my heart beats faster.
I want to ask him a million questions.
I want to ask him why he pulled away from his brothers.
I want to ask him why he's pulled away from me.
I want to ask him if he's figured out what he wants.
So many questions yet the only thing that comes out of my mouth on a breath is his name. "Oak."
His head snaps up and his ice blue eyes meet mine. I almost cry out from the sight of them. A hollow loneliness I've never seen so blatantly in his eyes before.
I instantly want to wrap him in my arms and console him. To whisper in his ear that he's not alone, and that he never will be.
But I stop myself.
Instead I take the few steps closer to him to get a better look at the broken man who sits on my porch steps.
"I didn't," he begins, his voice filled with pain, "I didn't know where else to go." His eyes bleed torment, and my heart bleeds for him.
With a gentle voice I then ask, "So you came all the way here? Finding yourself in Hollows Point?"
"No," he shakes his head, "I found my way to you."
My breath catches again as the strings on my heart pull.
He then rises from the porch steps but keeps himself distant from me. I want to close the gap but I'm afraid he won't let me come close. He's been keeping me at a distance all week, and I don't know what to say or do to break it.
"How long have you been sitting there?"
He swallows thickly. His finger taps on the outside of his thigh. "Not long."
I raise a brow. "That's not an answer."
"Three hours."
My eyes go wide. "Weren't you uncomfortable?"
