Whatever it was, wasn’t about me. I didn’t ask him to follow me in the restaurant. Didn’t ask him to kiss me and walk away. And I didn’t ask him to come here.
He pushed off the side of his truck and walked closer, his strides slow and sexy. His hands hid in his pockets, and I wondered if he’d done it for the same reason my hands tightened around my coffee cup.
Did he struggle the way I did? Wanting to reach out, knowing it was a mistake. Knowing that no matter what we wanted, there was something between us. A distance that we couldn’t cross.
I just didn’t know why.
Chapter Eleven
Derek
I shouldn’t be here.
The thought repeated itself in my head as I sat in my truck a dozen houses down the road from hers. Engine off, hands gripping the steering wheel hard enough to make my knuckles ache.
I sat there watching as the street shut down. Porch lights turning off minutes before the lights in the windows.
Except hers.
I could still taste her. The food we ate at dinner was flavorless compared to her. I could still feel the way she melted against me, her fire giving way to something warm and inviting. The memory of the way she surrendered the moment my lips touched hers burned like a brand on my skin.
She deserved better than me.
A man who beat his wife.
A man who became what he hated most.
A man who couldn’t walk away.
I walked away like a fucking coward. Left her standing there against the wall with swollen lips and confusion in her eyes. And I’d done it because I could. Because I was an asshole like the man who raised me.
Walking into that restaurant and seeing her with Zero had me wanting to put my fist through his face. I walked away without a hello to my daughter. That was the kind of selfish bastard I was.
I should go home.
My hands reached for the keys, started the ignition, and put the truck in gear. Slowly, I drove down the street until I was pulling into her driveway.
She sat on her porch, mug cradled in her hands as she stared at me. I cut the engine and stepped out, boots hitting the asphalt with deliberate weight. I closed the door quietly—knowing Frankie was asleep inside—and leaned against the truck, holding her gaze. Waiting for her to tell me to get the fuck out. To leave her alone.
Leave Frankie alone.
I pushed off the truck and walked toward her, hands in my pockets to keep from reaching for her.
Stopping at the bottom of the steps in front of her, I asked, “Frankie asleep?” my voice rough. I cleared my throat, hoping the words would come out clearer next time.
This woman rattled me. And she had no fucking idea how much.
“Yes,” she answered, her voice soft and steady. “Why are you here?”
“Fuck if I know.” I ran my hand through my hair, frustration eating me alive. Talking to women had never been difficult for me. I’d charmed Sam in a matter of moments. Marsha even less.
But there was something about Kat that had me on edge. Maybe it was the fact that she was my daughter’s mother. She had the power to take her away from me, not that I had her. I’d walked away when I had the chance, not knowing how to keep my anger in check.
I still didn’t know how. But I could stop myself from lashing out. Progress, Haizley called it.
“How was your date?” I asked.
Her eyes narrowed, and I saw the anger flare up in them, making them sparkle in the moonlight.
