He’s standing at the same spot that he was back when I first saw him after two years. But unlike the last time, he doesn’t have people around him.
He’s alone and it looks like he’s been waiting for me. It looks like he’s been watching the door.
My heart tries to race at the thought.
At him watching the door, waiting for me to show up. But I harden it.
I make it stop.
Because he shouldn’t be waiting for me. He shouldn’t be watching the door for me.
And I shouldn’t want him to.
I do everything in my power to stop my heart from wrecking my ribs, from leaping out of my chest at the sight of him. And I think I’m successful. I think.
But I forgot one thing. Or rather, didn’t take that thing into account.
I didn’t take into account the fact that instead of it all ending that night, something began.
Something took root and I feel it in my body now, and even though I’ve managed to calm down my heart, I can’t calm it down.
The flutters in my abdomen.
A quickening, something pulsing to life, and it’s only getting worse the more I stare into his wolf eyes.
And I have to put a hand on my belly.
My skin feels just as warm and heated as it did last night.
As soon as I do that though, I know I’ve made a mistake.
Because God, his animal eyes — they really never miss anything — drop down to my belly. And his arched cheekbones flood with a flush as if he can feel that warmth himself.
When his lips part slightly as if on an exhale, I snatch my hand off.
His eyes snap up and my own pop wide at the look in them.
All angry and dark. Possessive. Filled with knowledge, somehow.
Of what’s inside of me.
But it can’t be, right?
He can’t know. It took me days to figure it out myself, granted I was distracted but still. He can’t figure it out by just looking at my hand on my stomach.
Right?
But he starts to move toward me. He starts to bulldoze his way through the crowd to get to me and I don’t know what else to do except run.
Again.
Because this wasn’t the plan, okay?
This wasn’t how I wanted to tell him. Did I want to tell him?
I don’t know.
I only just found out myself. I haven’t even had the time to process it all. And second of all, we were supposed to be free of each other.
I was supposed to be free of him. I was supposed to forget him and move on.
But this is the opposite of all that.
So blindly, I turn left and push my way through people. I push my way through their sour breaths, the smell of liquor, the heavy violins in the air. All of which is making me slightly dizzy and nauseated.
But somehow I manage not to fall to the ground or throw up.
I somehow make it to the back and turn into a hallway. Somehow, I find the door that I’m looking for — an office that all employees use. The reason I come to this bar and the reason I know Will, the bartender, is because my brother Conrad used to work here and I used to accompany him when I was little.
I’ve spent a lot of time in that office and I know for a fact that it’s cozy and has soundproof walls. Although back then, I never ever thought that I’d come to find refuge here, in Con’s old office, in this condition.
If he knew…
Don’t think about that now, Callie.
Don’t.
I finally get inside the office but when I go to close the door, something is blocking it.
Or someone.
Him.
The tall broad body of the guy I was running away from.
He has his large hand on the door, pressing against it, stopping it from closing.
He was right on my heels, wasn’t he?
When I look into his eyes, all molten and heated, still sporting that dark light of possession, I get my answer. That yes, he was. He was right at my heels, chasing me.
Slowly, I back away from him and slowly and authoritatively, he enters.
His cheeks still have their slightly flushed look and his jaw, stubbled as always at night, is clamped shut as he watches me.
I back away from him. “What are you doing here?”
Without taking his eyes off me, he closes the door behind him and locks it shut. “Chasing after you. As always.”
My heart thunders in my chest.
It’s not because he locked the door just now. No, that doesn’t surprise me anymore.
It’s his familiar answer.
That he came here for me. Like he went to the woods last night.
That he was chasing after me.
I shake my head to dispel these stupid, useless thoughts as I keep backing away. “Well, you should stop. You promised, Reed. You promised that we wouldn’t see each other again.”
“I didn’t.”
“What?”
His eyes pierce into mine. “You wanted me to promise but I didn’t.”
I stare back at him, studying his features, which look gorgeous. As gorgeous as ever. Even though his hair’s grown out and his strands are messy, all disheveled, probably courtesy of his fingers. Even though there’s a certain kind of strain on his features. A certain kind of tiredness and something so akin to regret.
And I realize that he’s right.
He never promised.
I wanted him to but he didn’t.
So I guess he didn’t break it then, the promise. Because he never made it in the first place.
When he notices the realization on my features, his jaw becomes even tighter, his fingers fisting at his sides. “I know I’m a bastard. I know I’ve lied to you. I’ve broken promises before. But I’m never going to make a promise to you that I won’t keep. Not anymore. And that’s a promise.”
I finally reach the end of this office.
It’s not a very large space to begin with and from what I can see from the corner of my eye, it looks the same. A large wooden desk by the door, a dark leather couch adjacent to it and a dresser right opposite the desk.
Which I touch with my spine and come to a halt, my lips parting.
At his promise.
At the look in his eyes, stark and intense, that makes me want to believe him.
I swallow, pressing my hands on the dresser behind me. “So then why are you here? What do you want?”
My eyes go wide when I say those words.
Those words from our past: What do you want?
Whenever I said those words to him, they ended up changing my life. They ended up being my doom and I can’t believe that I’ve said them now.
Even my body knows it.
The thing inside my body knows it and I feel flutters in my belly. Vicious, brutal. Fierce.
As soon as I say these words, Reed steps away from the door.
He starts to walk toward me. “You.”
Even though I knew he was going to say that, I fist my hands and press my spine into the dresser even more. “Me what?”
“To tell me the truth.”
“What?”