Chapter 4 #2
I tried to force myself to slow down, not to look as insane as I felt, but my boots kept eating up the pavement, carrying me faster and faster toward the edge of the lot.
But I stopped dead in my tracks the moment I saw her. She was leaning against the brick wall at the far side of the bar with her head tipped back and eyes shut tight. Her dress looked different out here, the color was deeper and clinging to her in a way that should have been illegal.
Her hands were pressed into her hips, and she didn’t see me at first. I stood there and watched her chest rise and fall, watched the way her breath stuttered as if she’d just run a mile.
I cleared my throat. “Are you all right?” I said the words gently, but she was startled anyway.
“Fuck,” she gasped, a hand flying to her chest. I watched her clutch the fabric there, squeezing as she glared at me. “Hunter, you scared the shit out of me. What are you even doing?”
She was mad, but there was something else beneath it.
Something wild, raw, and trembling as if her entire body had been strung taut and wound tighter with every second she’d held it together tonight.
Now, it was like the threads were coming undone, and I could do nothing but stand there, watching her unravel.
I wanted to cross the handful of feet between us and pin her to the wall and let her scream in my face and spit all the venom she carried.
If she needed to hate me, then I’d let her, but I stayed right where I was, hands open and useless at my sides, terrified that if I touched her, I wouldn’t be able to let go.
“I’m driving you home,” I said more firmly than I meant to.
She turned her head, eyes narrowing on me. “No, you’re not.”
“The hell I’m not. You’ve had too much to drink,” I said, and I steadied my gaze on her. “You’re not walking home in the dark.”
She scoffed, a bitter little noise. “You’ve been drinking too.”
“I’ve only had a couple beers.” I shook my head. “I could never live with myself if you left here and something happened to you.”
“You couldn’t live with yourself?” Her voice was sharp, but it trembled just a little on the last word.
“That’s rich.” She shoved off the wall and came at me, every angry step making the hem of her dress ride higher up her thighs.
“I bet the guilt would be staggering if you let your ex-girlfriend’s shadow get hurt. ”
“Maggie.” Her name fell from my lips like a plea, but she was too damn angry, her words turning rougher and louder.
“No, really. It would devastate you, wouldn’t it? If something happened to Ella’s little sister?” She spat out her name like a curse, and it was all I could do not to flinch.
She stepped closer, close enough that I could smell her perfume, and her breath came in shallow bursts. Fuck, I wanted to kiss her.
“You know that you’re not just Ella’s little sister,” I said quietly, the words falling from my lips before I could stop them. I stepped toward her, but Maggie took a step back.
She was trembling, and I wanted to steady her, to reach out and tangle my fingers with hers and pull her into me. But I didn’t. I just stood there.
She looked at me, and blurted, “Did you hear that she’s getting married?”
I blinked, thrown by what she’d just said. “Who’s getting married?”
“Ella.” Her name landed like a shot between us, and Maggie’s bottom lip trembled. “She called me yesterday to tell me the good news. Her and Dean are engaged.”
Her gaze lingered on my face, searching for some sign that I was gutted, proof that I still cared, but she wouldn’t find it. Of course I’d cared for Ella when we’d dated, but when she smiled at me, it didn’t feel like getting hit by a goddamn truck.
So I said, “You’ll have to tell her I said congratulations.”
“That’s it?” She narrowed her eyes. “You just want me to pass along your congratulations to my own sister for getting engaged to the guy she cheated on you with?”
“What do you want me to say, Mags?”
She started pacing, arms folded. “I don’t know. Be angry or upset. Do anything but act like everything’s okay.”
“I’m not upset that she’s getting married. If she’s happy, then I’m happy for her.” I forced a smile, but that only pissed her off more.
“That’s such bullshit,” Maggie snapped, coming to a stop right in front of me. She jabbed a finger into my chest, hard enough to hurt. “You don’t have to be perfect all the damn time. You know that, right? She cheated on you with him, and you were heartbroken.”
“She did cheat on me,” I said. “But I wasn’t heartbroken because of her, Maggie.”
She made a face. “Oh, please. I saw you. You were a mess.”
“What you saw—” I rolled my shoulders, desperate to look anywhere but at her. But I searched her face and saw something so raw staring back at me that it felt like a sin to see it. “Never mind.”
“No.” She raised her chin and pushed me again, harder this time, and I stumbled a step back.
The surprise of her strength and her stubbornness almost made me laugh.
“Tell me what you were going to say.”
The urge to come clean and admit every stupid, complicated thing I’d ever felt for her was overwhelming.
“Why does it matter, Maggie?” I finally managed, spreading my hands. “Ella and I broke up over two years ago. Why do you want me to be upset over her being engaged?”
“Because I want you to do anything besides just standing here and pretending like...Fuck.” She ran her hands through her hair as she shook her head.
“What?” My hand caught her elbow, fingers wrapping around the warmth of her skin. “What do you want from me, Maggie?” My voice was lower and harsher than I meant.
She went still, and the two of us stared at one another for a long moment before she finally spoke.
“I don’t know,” she muttered. “You’re right. I’m drunk, and I just want to go home.”
But she didn’t move. She just looked up at me, and the sadness in her eyes was more than I could stand. Every part of me wanted to protect her, to take the whole world on my shoulders and let her rest for once.
“Let me drive you home, Maggie. Please.”
She looked at me like she wanted to refuse, but I could see how tired she was, how the anger and bravado had burnt out, leaving behind a girl who’d spent her whole life fighting to be seen.
“It’s not that far,” she whispered.
“I’m aware.” I nodded. “But I want to.”
She stared at me for a long moment, and I thought she was going to tell me no again.
I was ready for a fight, prepared to lift her over my shoulder and throw her in my fucking truck if I had to.
Her chin dipped, then jerked stubbornly skyward, as if she could will herself sober through sheer defiance. And fuck, why did I love that about her?
“I could ask Brody,” she said as she turned her head toward the bar entrance, but my grip on her elbow tightened.
The thought of Brody taking her home made me see red, and my jaw clenched so hard it hurt.
“Don’t fucking do that,” I growled, and she blinked, startled, and her eyes found mine.
“Okay.” Her shoulders dropped, and I felt her shiver slightly under my palm. “Take me home then, Calloway.”
I didn’t let go of her, not even after she said it. Instead, I held her elbow, felt the vibration of her pulse through my fingertips, and something inside me snapped tight and stayed that way as I led her across the parking lot.
I kept telling myself this was the right thing. Get her home, keep her safe, let her go. But my body didn’t listen. I was holding on like I could anchor her, like I could maybe anchor myself. She wasn’t mine to touch, but the thought of letting go felt impossible.
Maggie was pure sunshine, and I was the man who’d already cost her enough. I knew that. I’d told myself that a hundred times. I’d dated her sister. I was the reason Ella went back to Alabama and left Maggie here to run her bakery alone.
They’d had plans together. Plans Ella had told me about once, to build something that was theirs and theirs alone. But even after everything she did, she couldn’t stomach staying in the same town as me. So she went back to Alabama, and Maggie stayed behind to build it alone.
Each step echoed against the stillness of the night, and my pulse beat hot in my throat. I opened the passenger door for her, and she hesitated, one hand gripping the frame of the truck. For a second, I thought she changed her mind.
Then she hoisted herself up and the hem of her dress rode high as she swung her legs inside. It took all of my willpower not to watch her, not to think about the way her skin looked against my worn leather.
She turned to face me, and the two of us just stared at one another. Neither of us said a word, but it was as if every moment we’d ever ignored or buried or turned into a stupid joke so we wouldn’t have to feel it for real bubbled up between us.
We were both orbiting the same fucked-up thoughts, but neither one of us was brave enough to admit them out loud. Neither one of us was brave enough to fucking act on them or to stop them.
And God, I should have fucking stopped them.
“You ready?” I asked, and she simply nodded and looked out the windshield.
I reached up and shut the door, the sound slamming through the quiet like a gunshot, and I stood there for a second, watching her through the glass, trying to memorize the way she looked right then. She was defiant and beautiful and so damn untouchable.
I made myself breathe and walked around the front of the truck. I climbed in, hands gripping the steering wheel until my knuckles ached, before I finally started the engine.
The cab already smelled like her. The sweet scent of cherries and vanilla warmed in the confined space between us.
Every time she shifted in her seat, the leather creaked beneath her thighs, and I found myself holding my breath, counting the inches between us like they were miles I desperately wanted to cross.
The silence in the truck stretched out with only the engine thrumming, and Maggie sagged back against the headrest, lips parted in the faintest, most exasperated sigh.