Wrong Place. Wrong Time. Right Viscount.

Chapter 20

Oh God. She’d said the words. She’d said the words out loud. Elle held her breath and kept her gaze locked on Alec’s as she waited for him to respond. It felt as if she were waiting for her entire world to collapse, and yet, a tiny flame of hope burned in her chest. Let him believe me. Let him understand, or at least try to. Please.

“I don’t understand,” he said finally.

“I…” She steadied herself, knowing how ridiculous it was going to sound. “I’m from the future.”

He blinked at her, confusion clear in his eyes. He released his grip on her arms and took a step back. That tiny step felt like a crevasse opening between them, a split in the ice that they’d never be able to cross back to each other. No. No, no, no. The first splinter began to slowly work its way through her heart. He’s walking away from me.

“The future,” he repeated, his voice even, but she could see the tension in his shoulders, lines of stress bracketing his lips.

“I know it sounds crazy, but it’s the truth, I promise you.”

He took another step backwards. Hurt fluttered across his face before he closed his expression off, the mask sliding back into place, the one she’d hated for those first few weeks. Another crack in her heart.

“If you didn’t want to marry me, if you don’t truly love me as I thought, you could say that, Eleanor. There’s no need for outlandish stories.”

“It’s not a story,” she protested. “I’m from the year 2020. I don’t know how I was brought back exactly, but I was.”

“2020,” he murmured with a humorless laugh.

“Alec, please, just listen.”

He took another step back, shaking his head. He was looking at her as if he didn’t even know her. The physician in him was looking at her like she was insane, the way he’d probably looked at plenty of patients who were indeed out of touch with reality.

Panic began to claw at Elle’s chest, razor sharp and burning. She’d thought she’d been ready for him not to believe her, for him to walk away, but now that it was actually happening, she couldn’t bear it. She could barely breathe, her throat feeling thick and her ribs shrinking, closing in around her lungs.

“Wait. Just wait,” she begged, flying to the wooden chest. She opened it, tossing out extra paint and brushes, searching for her things. She’d stowed them out here for safe keeping once everyone else had returned from the city. She yanked the zipper of her bag open and grabbed the first thing her fingers touched. A t-shirt. Damnit…wait. Her eyes widened in triumph. She whirled and found him staring at her, his mask slipping and something between agony and sorrow settling over his handsome face. He was just finishing shoving his feet into his boots, his coat gripped in a white-knuckled fist. No. God, he’s leaving. She held up the shirt like it was the holy grail.

“This is clothing from my time.”

He backed away, holding up his hands to halt her. “Eleanor, enough. Stop this. You are either lying or you’re truly unwell, and I cannot bear either.”

“No, I can prove I’m telling the truth! Alec, just look at it.” She held the shirt out towards him, desperate to make him see. “The dates—”

“Enough!” he shouted, freezing her in place. Tears stung her eyes and she tried so hard to breathe, but it was impossible. “Enough,” he said again, softer. “I will not tell anyone of what happened here, but I…I must go.” This was it. He was saying goodbye.

He turned and strode out of the gazebo and into the rain, shrugging his coat on as he went. She rushed out onto the covered porch, watching him go. He didn’t even bother with his horse, leaving Apollo in the small barn.

“Alec, please!” she yelled over the downpour. Tears streamed down her face, and she felt a sharp, searing pain in her chest, a pain that somehow hurt everywhere, all at once, sending shards of glass into her blood and making her vision tunnel. He slowed and turned his head, as if he was going to look at her, but he stopped himself, his shoulders tensing, and he continued on.

Elle sank to her knees on the cold, wet wood, still clutching the Warped Tour shirt in her numb fingers. She cried like she hadn’t cried since her parents’ deaths. Great, racking sobs that made her bones hurt from the force of them. She cried, and cried, and cried.

He’d walked away.