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My mother loves me. She’s invited me to LA to live with her countless times. I’m the one who’s stopped us seeing one another much over the years by not being able to get on a plane. I tried so many times. Made it as far as the boarding gate once. But then the tightness in my chest would start, followed by the spots in myvision. The last time I tried was when I was eighteen. I’m still amazed I finally did it with Jet. I should have tried herbal pills and the need to get one up on an arrogant asshole as an incentive years ago.
My legs burn. Running in heels is hard. I slow a little, hoping I’ve put enough distance between me and Jet.
Mum’s work keeps her in LA. If she could have survived after Dad died by staying in England, she would have. I was the one who didn’t want to move to the US with her. I wanted to stay near Dad’s memories. Near Gramps.
I was too scared that starting over somewhere alien to me would make me feel alone.
I drag in a splintered breath that sounds like a sob.
I didn’t want to feel alone.
“Ava!”
I’m spun around, large hands bracketing my upper arms as Jet’s wild eyes search out mine. His chest is heaving, and his tie has been thrown back over his shoulder.
“Get. Off. Me.” I struggle, but it only makes his hands curl tighter.
“I’m sorry.”
His eyes are murderous, he looks anything but sorry.
“Fuck you!”
I expect him to flinch, to react to the venom in my voice. But he doesn’t. His cool blue eyes just delve into mine like he can see all my secrets.
“I’m sorry,” he repeats. “You’re right. I’m an asshole.”
“One thing we agree on.” I struggle some more.
“Stop.” He walks us backward until I’m pinned between his body and a large birch tree.
“If you let me go, I’m going to smack your stupid face!”
He drops his hands. “Be my guest.”
My hand flies up like a rocket, but Jet’s faster. He grabs my wrist, then pulls my arm out, gripping my wrist tightly. He brings my palm back sharply against his cheekbone with a satisfyingwhack, making his head snap to the side and forcing a hiss to spill from his lips.
My hand throbs immediately before he encases it in his, rubbing the hot flesh with his thumbs.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” I gape at the growing red handprint on his cheek.
“Didn’t want you going easy on me.”
He looks into my eyes and my breath stutters as I realize my heart is no longer hammering at the sight of him all pent-up. My pulse has moved lower… and now, it’s thrumming a deep rhythm between my legs.
“I wouldn’t have.”
“In that case, next time you can slap me yourself.”
“How about you stop being an asshole and no one gets slapped?”
We stare at each other like two angry bulls.
I tear my hand from his grasp and glance at my palm.
“I am sorry.” He tilts my chin back up, so I meet his eyes. “Truly.”
The regret in his voice makes me screw my eyes closed, and I try to turn away. But he turns my face back to his.
