Page 7 of Run to Me

She reaches for the door handle, but I place a palm on the driver’s window to prevent her escape. When I crowd her against the car and breathe in her familiar coconut scent, my skin vibrates with my last memory of being close to her.

“I miss you.” My deep voice coaxes a shiver from her.

When I brush the soft curls off her neck, exposing her skin—smooth and shimmery like the golden sands of a beach—she jerks away from me.

“Don’t,” she says, her tone sharp.

The fact that she doesn’t want me touching her kills me. What seems like centuries ago, I found little ways to physically connect. A swipe of my knuckles along her back in support. A teasing nudge on her chin. I even wiped a few tears away when I was around to catch them.

When she threw me out of her life, I hoped my banishment was temporary and she’d put aside her anger at some point. I began counting the days, praying she’d find it in her heart to forgive my mistakes and let me back in. I thought I’d have a chance to say all the things I couldn’t say the day I ruined our friendship.

Unfortunately, she left town after she graduated from high school and never looked back. She changed her phone number, made all her social media accounts private, and hid herself in a tight, protective group of people. She became inaccessible to me, wrote me out of history, but I never stopped counting the days.

“Birdie,” I plead, letting my eyelids fall shut and balling my hands into fists.

I ache to feel this woman. Her skin, her hair, her breath. Hell, a punch in the face would feed my insatiable longing for her.

“Don’t,” she says again, but the anguish in her eyes tells me everything she’s not saying aloud.

Please don’t touch me.

Please don’t call me birdie.

Please don’t miss me.

Clearing my throat, I step back and give her some breathing room. My best strategy for making peace with Maisy is to hand her all the power. I’d offer her the world in exchange for a few extra seconds in her presence.

With a little space between us, I allow my gaze to sweep her from head to toe, appreciating her confident style. The black leather motorcycle jacket, black leggings, and low-cut top. The floral Doc Marten boots and the diamond stud in her nose. She’s edgy, and all her rough edges fit mine perfectly. Like we’re two halves of a whole, ripped apart and desperate to find their way back to each other. If only she would accept the fate of us.

“What did you want to talk about?” I ask.

Golden-hazel eyes flecked with tiny green diamonds bounce between mine. My gaze drops to her mouth when she chews her bottom lip, considering her words. I sway on my feet, compelled to bend down and steal a kiss. She’d probably slap me if I did something so stupid, and I’d ruin any flimsy shot I have at reconciliation.

Suddenly, she blurts, “Tate’s coming home.”

The organ in my chest pounds a wild, staccato beat as my excitement skyrockets from the shocking news. If Tatum returns to Walford, Maisy might also return because they’re glued at the hip. She’ll finally be close to me.

I attempt to keep the glee out of my voice, playing it cool when I ask, “Really? How long is she staying?”

Maisy opens the car door and looks over her shoulder, melting me with her pretty eyes. “A few weeks, then she’ll move on.”

The step I take forward comes with a barrage of follow-up questions. “What about you? Are you staying in Walford? Can I see you again?” I’m not above begging. This brief interaction isn’t enough. I need more of her, anything she’ll allow.

She pauses with one leg in the car, offering me her stiff back and denying me another look at her beautiful face. “I’ll be gone first thing tomorrow.”

With that, she slams the door and drives away, leaving me on the sidewalk like an abandoned dog, hoping his owner will soon return. A few days later, my luck changes when Tatum Wakefield shows up in my bar and informs me that Maisy’s living in Austin for the next few months. She’s sixty miles within my reach.

Heeding Javi’s advice, I decide to embark on a self-care journey and earn myself the only reward I’ve ever wanted.

It’s time to catch a bird.

3

MAISY

The modern, three-bedroom home Graham rented for us sits in one of Austin’s secure, affluent neighborhoods. Surrounded by mini mansions, the house belongs to one of his friends who moved here from California several years ago and scooped up properties before real estate prices skyrocketed.

With Graham out of town for meetings, I have the house to myself for the week. I’m enjoying the downtime, a concept Tatum clearly despises. She’s bored in Walford, and we’ve been on a video call for over an hour because she declared it a virtual New Year’s Eve pajama party. It’s the middle of the day, but she’s wearing her favorite unicorn onesie. To make her happy, I threw on a satin pajama set that has a black rose pattern.