“Like hell you can.” She pulls my phone from my jacket pocket and shoves it into my trembling hands. “You should have seen your face just now. You looked like you were about to pass out. Call him Fern. Right now. Or I swear to God, I’ll do it myself.”
My fingers shake as I find his number and press call.
He picks up before the first ring finishes. “Fern? What’s wrong?”
“I’m at the Rusty Nail. I saw Robbie outside. He was watching me through the window.”
“I’m already here.” His voice is steady and calm, an anchor in the storm of my panic. “Describe him for me.”
“What?”
“Your ex. What does he look like?”
I close my eyes and force myself to remember. “Tall. About your height. Brown hair, cut short. He was wearing a dark jacket, maybe black or navy. He has a scar on his chin from a bar fight years ago.”
“Stay where you are. I’ll check it out.”
The line goes dead, and Skylar and I wait in silence. Every second feels like an hour. Finally, there’s a knock on the bathroom door, and Connor’s voice filters through.
“It’s me. Open up.”
Skylar unlocks the door, and Connor fills the doorway, his eyes finding mine immediately. “I circled the whole block twice. Whoever you saw, he’s gone now.”
“He was there. I know what I saw.”
“I believe you.” He holds out his hand. “Come on. I’m taking you home.”
The walk back to my cottage is quiet. Connor stays close, and his shoulder brushes mine with every step. I keep expecting to see Robbie lurking in every shadow, but the streets are empty and still.
Once we’re inside with the door locked behind us, Connor turns to face me.
“We should talk.”
“About what?”
“About the lottery. About us. About what happens next. We can’t keep dancing around this, Fern. Whatever’s happening between us, we need to figure it out.”
“There’s nothing to figure out.”
“That’s not true, and you know it.”
He’s right. I do know it. I’ve known it since the first time he touched me, since the first time I felt the mate bond come to life between us. But knowing something and accepting it are two different things.
“Connor, I can’t do this right now.”
“Then when?” He shuffles closer until there’s barely a foot of space between us. “When are you going to let me in?”
I sputter my lips and reply, “That’s rich coming from you. You’re the one who left me alone in the woods. You’re the one who keeps disappearing every time things get real between us.”
“I know. I know I’ve handled this badly. But I’m here now, Fern. I’m not going anywhere.”
He means it. I can see it in his eyes, hear it in his voice. And something about that—about him finally showing up instead of running—cracks something open inside me.
All the fear and frustration and want I’ve been carrying come rushing to the surface. Before I can think better of it, I grab the front of his shirt and pull him down to me.
The kiss is hungry and reckless, and I pour everything I can’t say into it—all my anger and fear and the need I’ve been trying so hard to deny. Connor groans against my mouth and wraps his arms around me, lifting me off my feet like I weigh nothing at all.
My back hits the wall, and I gasp as he pins me there with his hips. His mouth moves to my neck, and I arch into him, digging my fingers into his shoulders as he works his way down to my collarbone. Every nerve ending in my body is on fire.
