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"Not until you tell me what's going on. Why did you let me keep going if you weren't sure?" He let go of her arm and ran both hands through his hair. "I thought you wanted this."
Her eyes softened. "I did want it."
"So what's the problem?"
"I just can't do this again."
His heart lurched in his chest, slamming against the cage of his ribs. "Vee," he began to plead.
She looked away and cleared her throat. "I think you'd better go."
He stood in front of her, tilting her chin up, forcing her to meet his eyes. "I'll call you."
She said nothing, then opened the office door and waited for him to go. Although he wanted to kiss her and claim her as his once more, he respected her need for space and left.
When he arrived home,it was a little after eight. He found John in the kitchen, pulling two beers from the fridge. It was almost as if he knew he needed a goddamn drink. The whole drive home, all he had was his thoughts, his mind churning through every detail of what had happened in her office.
She had been just as he remembered, yet she was wholly different at the same time. He wasn’t so dumb to believe that what he put her through didn’t irrevocably change her. Elements of her were the same—the way she tasted, the sounds she made—but her reckless abandon was gone. She wasn’t giving one hundred percent to him, and he knew exactly why that was.
"How’d it go?" his friend asked.
“I think I might have made things worse.”
John’s brows rose. “Worse? How?”
Taking the proffered beer, he propped himself up against the counter. “After we had sex, she tossed me out of there—said she’d made a mistake.”
“She didn’t give you any other reason?”
Beau shook his head. “I just left... she clearly needs some space, so that’s what I gave her.”
“So that’s it?”
“That’s what?”
John crossed his arms. "I've never known you to just give up on something without finding another solution. When your mom was diagnosed, you tried every damn alternative therapy you could find. That tenacity is also another reason why you shouldn't give up on becoming an architect."
Beau begrudgingly gave him that. He'd given up on his dream career, had given up Vee because it was the right thing to do. Now, he had a second chance and he wouldn't waste it.
"Ah, there's that fire," John said, pushing off the counter he was leaning against. "Figure it out, Beau. Win back her trust."
He thought about it—really thought about it. She’d said she couldn’t do it again. She could’ve been talking about any number of things, but the main ones were sleeping with him again, having a relationship with him, and—at a long shot—fucking in her workplace again.
“She may be afraid to start a relationship with me,” he finally said, more to himself than out loud.
"I can't say I'd blame her."
Beau frowned. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"
John put his hands up in surrender. "Chill, Beau. I just meant she's clearly been hurt, and I get that she doesn't want to do that again."
He took another sip of his beer, trying not to let the truth of the matter sting so badly. But fuck, it still hurt. He could only imagine just how Vee would've felt when he just ghosted from her life, then told her he didn’t love or want her. If he'd been able to do it another way, he would have.
"What do you want from her, Beau?" John asked.
He looked up at him. "Everything," he admitted. "I want the life I thought I'd lost."
John grinned. "So go and get it."
