Page 19 of Afterglow

As if on cue, my stomach lurches again, and even though it has nothing left to evacuate, I rush for the trash can.

Gentle fingers reach around and pull back the pieces of my hair that have come loose from my bun as I dry heave. Those same fingers find the base of my skull and rub with gentle pressure up and down my neck.

My stomach finally calms and I press up to find my back against a firm chest. I don’t have it in me to fight my desire for warmth and comfort. It feels like a betrayal to all the walls I’ve built in the past seven and a half months, but I need this moment.

When his hands come to my hips to steady me, I melt into him, letting my head rest on his shoulder. If I keep my eyes squeezed tight, I can pretend it’s not him providing the support. That it’s not a man who, no matter what he might have said about liking me before, can’t possibly feel that way now.

If only I could feel nothing—turn it all off—but those six plastic sticks have heightened my every feeling and it’s like a kaleidoscope of emotions all swirling and mixing and changing without my ability to control it.

Happy. Sad. Scared. Confused. Nervous. Shocked. Elated. Terrified. Apprehensive. They move like colors, forming patterns I never would’ve thought possible.

I shudder against Bryce as a cry climbs up my throat. I hold it back as best I can, but a whimpered sound still escapes. He spins me and holds me against him, letting me cry against his shirt.

I hate myself more every minute.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. Not now. Not like this. Not with him. Not with anyone—as far as I believed.

Of all the people I shouldn’t let my guard down with, it’s this man. The last time I did, we ended up in bed together. And look how that turned out? For weeks I’ve told myself it was a fluke. That the animosity between us was what made it so explosive. That nothing positive could come from that kind of reaction to someone.

But something positive did come from it… At least, it did for me.

But even if that’s true, it doesn’t change who and what we are to each other. Which is nothing. He can’t want me, not after everything, and I don’t want him to.

I begin to push against his chest like I’m a caged animal who can’t get free, scrabbling against him in panic.

“Hey, hey!” He lets me go and I flee around the kitchen island, angrily swiping the tears off my face. The hurt that flashes across his features cuts deep. He’s not hiding his feelings from me, even if I’m doing my best to bottle mine up so I can hide them from him. From everyone. “Do you want me to leave? I really thought talking about this in person would be better, but if you don’t want me here, I’ll go.”

He takes two steps back, toward the door.

I should let him go. I should stay quiet and let him walk out. A moment of pain, of rejection, is better than what will happen if I let him linger only to have him leave me later.

I’m frozen, my arms wrapped around my torso in a sorry attempt to hold myself together. Like doing so will protect me from all the potential for hurt. He nods once and turns for the door, and that’s when my gaze lands on the grocery bag, noting what’s inside.

Ginger ale. Crackers. Peanut butter.

He stopped to get me supplies?

I’m worried about you. That’s what he said. I like you. He said that too. Did he really mean it? Does he still?

The door handle turns and, against my better judgement, I go after him. “Wait!” I shout, then watch Bryce’s big, broad frame shudder to a stop in the threshold. His head is bowed. He doesn’t turn around to look at me. He just waits… Waits for me to say something more. Waits for me to put myself out there, the same way he did by dropping everything and showing up. The same way he did when he got me groceries.

“I’m sorry,” I croak, the words tasting like acid in my throat. “Please, don’t go. I want…” My voice catches and I swallow hard. “I want you to stay.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Bryce

The way her voice wavers when she says she wants me to stay has me turning on the spot.

If someone told me six weeks ago that this woman—the one who took every opportunity to eviscerate me via email—could bring me to heel, I’d have told them to go to hell.

But here we are.

It stung to watch her drive away after the wedding. I should have been thrilled to be rid of her, of her barbs and eye-rolling and disdain… but I wasn’t. After spending only one night together, getting only a glimpse of the real her, I was already halfway gone for this blonde bombshell.

And there’s nothing more frightening than that. Because it’s been a very, very long time since I was gone over a woman…

And after Sarah, getting attached was something I said I’d never do again. Casual dating, sure. The occasional one-night stand, okay. But opening myself up to the potential of losing everything again? No thanks. So, the attachment I’ve felt to Leanne since our night together is something I didn’t anticipate. So far nothing between us has gone as anticipated, however, and I can only assume with our current predicament that won’t be changing.