He froze beside me, his expression unreadable. “Do you regret it?”
“No,” I said forcefully, shaking my head animatedly. “I regret not telling him sooner. And I broke his heart, Braden. I broke his heart and I let him go home alone, to the place we share, and I didn’t think about him again. I’m a horrible person!”
He was quiet, reflective. After a small stretch of silence, he sighed, rubbing his hand across his strong chin. “You’re not a horrible person, Elle. What were you supposed to do? Leave your best friend’s wedding to have a post breakup conversation?”
Braden had a point, but still. I knew I couldn’t truly move forward until I dealt with the things I had run from, the things I’d left behind in Barrie.
“Now, stop worrying about it,” he instructed gently, pulling me on top of him. I looked down at him, my hair spilling over the side of my shoulder. He gathered the thick tresses up and held it in place, using it to bring my lips down to his. His kisses brought me back to him, to our little world where only we mattered.
Braden
Kia’s were pieces of shit. There wasn’t enough space in between the components in the engine block to work without practically scrapping all of the skin off your knuckles—which I’d already done twice. It took me twice as long to replace the power steering line as it usually did in a vehicle with a better engine design.
When I took the line off the pump, power steering fluid pissing everywhere. I wiped up the mess with the dirty rag I had wrapped around my bloody knuckles, swearing under my breath.
I couldn’t wait to be finished work for the day. While Elle and I hadn’t made any concrete plans to hang out, I still wanted to see her. I felt like the happiest man in the world when she came home from the wedding with me. Being with her again like that made me feel indestructible.
I’d offered to drive with her to the Armstrong’s farm, since we were all supposed to meet up there and start cleaning-up, but she had insisted on driving over with Becky and made me promise to not touch her or look at her the way I’d been touching and looking at her.
“I just want to enjoy it for a while, before people start butting in,” she’d told me before I even had time to get pissed at her for basically telling me to hide the fact we’d slept together.
Having finished putting on the new power steering line, I checked that everything was running smoothly in the KIA before I slammed the hood down. I crossed over to the metal basin sink to wash my hands. The orange soap burned, but I was used to it.
As I was finishing, I heard someone pull up. I grabbed a somewhat clean towel and walked over to meet them, intent on telling them we were closed and they’d have to come back in the morning.
The car door slammed and heels clicked along the pavement. I paused, watching as Elle approached me warily. Her long, wavy hair was pulled up in a messy ponytail, and she was dressed in shorts and a white tank top, wearing a pair of red kitten heels that instantly made me hard. I could picture her modelling them—and only them—so clearly.
I stepped towards her with a huge, stupid grin on my face, closing the distance between us with long purposeful strides. Then my hands were pulling her close and I was kissing her. Elle’s hands were pressed against my chest, pulling herself against me, matching my hunger with her own. Then she pulled away abruptly.
“I have to go back to Barrie, Braden,” she told me, keeping her distance.
“What do you mean? Go back?” I frowned.
“I have a meeting in the morning with my boss. I need to talk to Alex and I need to start packing my stuff…” she trailed off, biting her lip. I wondered if she regretted it, if she resented the fact that her life was in complete upheaval.
“When will you be back?” I asked, trying to hide my insecurities. I didn’t want her to think that I didn’t trust her alone with him—even if it was a little true. I knew she cared about him, but I also knew that she was feeling incredibly guilty over the way things went down. Who was to say that he wouldn’t ride on that guilt and try something that made her doubt her feelings for me?
“A couple days?” she answered my question with a question.
“I can go with you,” I offered, the words rushing out in my desperation. “I could help you pack and move.”
She smiled sadly and stepped back towards me, her hands looping around the back of my neck. “I can’t do that to him. I can’t have you be there for this.” Her eyes drank me in, the sadness that edged them foreshadowing pain.
I hesitated for a moment before returning her embrace. I breathed in her scent, pressing my lips to the top of her head. I understood, even though the disappointment stung. Elle wasn’t the kind of person to intentionally hurt others. She was fierce when she needed to be, but always respectful. When she did cause someone unjust pain, she went out of her way to make it right again.
She didn’t like loose ends. Maybe that was why she had a hard time letting me go; because I was a loose end. My actions four years ago went against everything she’d known about me, everything that was true.
I wondered if she’d have a hard time lettinghimgo.
* * *
This town was suffocating me. Or maybe it was the fact that she’d left it again; returned to Barrie—tohim. She’d left four days ago, and I hadn’t heard from her once—not a single returned text or phone call. I couldn’t help but wonder if she’d changed her mind about me.
I closed my eyes, remembering the way her body had felt beneath mine. The pain in my chest was acute and powerful. I’d truly thought that her coming to me like that had meant she wanted to press rewind on our time apart, but maybe it had just been her scratching an itch. A final hurrah before she went back to the good guy.
I was, after all, the asshole. I’d been the one to pursue her when I knew she was trying to move on. I had swayed her with pretty words—and no matter how truthful they were, I should have respected her enough to leave her alone. But I couldn’t and I hadn’t, and now she was gone—only this time…it washerchoosing, not mine.
Which is why I found myself sitting at O’Riley’s, a tumbler of whiskey in front of me. I hadn’t touched it—not with my lips, not yet, anyway—and I’d been there for the past hour, trying to figure out what in the hell I was supposed to do now that I’d lost her.
