Chapter Seven
Someone knocked on her apartment door. A very, very insistent knock. No, more like a fierce pounding. Gia jumped at the sound, and the glass ornament she’d just been about to hang on the tree slipped from her fingers and shattered on the wooden floor.
The knocking continued.
He hasn’t found me. He couldn’t have found me. She tip-toed toward the door. Pressed her hand to the wood and put her eye to the little peephole.
When she saw her visitor, the wave of shock that hit her had Gia nearly falling to the floor just like the ornament. Falling and shattering. Instead, she managed to stay upright, and she yanked open the door. “What in the hell are you doing here?”
Oliver stood on the threshold. Even bigger than she remembered. Even better looking, too, as if the last year had been some magical walk in the park. His chest was heaving as he sucked in fierce breaths, and he stared at her like he’d just found the most perfect Christmas gift ever.
Oh, wait. That’s probably how I’m staring at him. She twisted her features into a glare.
But then he said—
“Thank God, you’re alive.”
“What?”
He grabbed her. Yanked her into a fierce, nearly bone-crushing hug as he held her against him, and Oliver shuddered.
He was warm and strong, and he smelled like home, damn him.
He smelled like her home. She wanted to snuggle against him, hold on tight and never let go, but he was the one who’d let go before.
He was the one who’d left her and just vanished, and she hadn’t been able to find him no matter how hard she searched.
“I still have time,” he muttered as he kissed her forehead.
Her temple. Her cheek. Any place he could reach.
“I can still have you.” Then he kissed her on the mouth.
A passionate, wild, consuming kiss that sparked a floodgate of desire inside of her.
He’d always been able to ignite her need so easily.
Always been able to make lust burn with just a touch.
Plus, it had been one very long year. One very lonely year because she hadn’t been able to bear the thought of anyone but him and—
She tore her mouth from his. “No!” Gia shoved against the chest she’d always loved and drooled over. “You don’t get me. We’re over.” She staggered back a few steps and could still taste him, dammit. “I don’t know how the hell you found me—”
“An angel in a bar.”
Gia squinted at him. No, there had been no way he’d said what she just thought.
Doggedly, she continued, “But you do not get to waltz back into my life like the last year didn’t happen.
You left me.” He’d ripped out her heart and stomped on it.
“I tried to find you.” Because, apparently, she was a glutton for punishment.
“But it was as if you’d never existed. Your old SEAL buddies wouldn’t even talk to me, though I was sure some of them were helping you to hide.
Months passed, and there was no phone call, no text, no letter.
” No you. “I moved on. You do not get to come back and start kissing me like nothing happened.”
“Gia, I—”
She slammed the door in his face. Locked it.
And then she let the tears fall.
***
Oliver could hear the sound of her cries. Soft and muted because Gia never wanted anyone to hear or see her cry. I did this to her. His hands pressed to the wood. “I am going to fix this,” he promised her.
He was. He would not give up. He would apologize a million times. Get down on his knees, but he wasn’t going to give up. Oliver knew he could not give up.
Before he’d become a werewolf, there was no way he would have believed that Cael and everything that had happened that night was real. He would have blown it all off. Said it was some drunken dream.
He wasn’t the same man any longer. He knew about magic, and Oliver understood that being a werewolf—it was something he needed to be. I can protect her this way.
But first, he had to get back into her life. Step one of that plan? Getting past her locked door.
“I’m sorry,” he said again, his words clear and loud.
Then he turned and walked away.
***
Gia swiped at her cheeks. She hated crying. It just led to headaches and blotchy, red skin. She was not a pretty crier, never had been.
“I’m sorry.” His voice seemed to reverberate through the door.
She sucked in a bracing breath before she flipped the lock once more—this time to unlock it—and wrenched open the door. If he had some big apology, then he could just shove it up his—
Gone.
The hallway was empty. As if Oliver had never been there at all.
Her lower lip trembled. She wrapped her right arm around her waist, crept back, and quietly shut the door.
***
Fifteen minutes later…
Someone was knocking at her apartment door.
Gia’s shoulders stiffened. She’d just climbed onto the stepladder so that she could put her star on the tree. Her eyes were dry, her cheeks puffy, and her head ached.
The knocking came again. Not insistent like before, but more careful and cautious. Keeping the star in her hand, she slowly backed down the steps. Then she made her way to the door. She took time to glance through the peephole.
This time, she was more prepared. Her knees barely trembled. She opened the door.
Oliver had his hands behind his back. His expression was so tender, almost reverent, as he stared at her.
Do not weaken. “I don’t want you knocking on my door all night long. I have things to do.”
His gaze darted to the star. “Would you like some help?”
No, she would not. “Go away.”
His shoulders rolled, and one hand moved from behind his back as he brought a bright red cup toward her. “How about some hot chocolate? Would that help? I bought it from the shop on the corner, and I know you think they’ve got the best stuff in town.”
How did he know that? Lucky guess. Had to be. “Do you honestly think that one cup of hot chocolate is going to buy my forgiveness?”
His second hand slid from behind his back. “What about two?” This cup was green.
She stared at the two offerings. “How were you even knocking on the door?”
“I used my elbow.”
Gia would not smile at him. “I’ll take the hot chocolate.
One cup.” She did. Her free hand curled around it, but in the process, her fingers brushed his.
A spark of awareness flooded through her.
A spark? Who was she kidding? More like a wildfire of awareness flooded through her.
But she pulled back with her precious hot chocolate, and the cup was wonderfully warm in her grasp.
“Please, let me come in.”
Her head tilted. “If I don’t, are you going to huff and puff until you blow my door down?”
“No.” He stared straight at her. “But I will just stay in the hallway, and I’ll drink my hot chocolate. I will stay close because there is nothing that can make me leave you.”
Really? He’d been fast enough to leave her before. Head-spinningly fast.
“You’re in danger. He’s followed you here, Gia.”
Her hand jerked. Good thing there was one of those snap-on tops covering the hot chocolate. Otherwise, she would have sent the precious liquid flying everywhere. “Wh-what are you talking about?”
“He’s going to come for you tonight, sweetheart. He’s going to try and kill you, but I swear, that will not happen.” Oliver’s jaw hardened. “He won’t get through me this time.”
This time?
“I will keep you safe. I will do whatever it takes, but you will not be dying tonight.”
Wow. Her jaw dropped. Hurriedly, she snapped it closed before eventually managing to croak, “Did you just say I was dying tonight?”
“Only over my dead body.”
Her heart thundered. She looked to the left, to the right. The hallway was empty. But this was still no place to have this particular talk. “Come inside.”
“Thought you’d never ask.”
Her eyes narrowed, but she backed up. She let him inside.
Then flipped her lock again. She led the way to the den and stopped only long enough to take a few fortifying sips of her hot chocolate.
Heaven on earth. Then she put the cup down, placing her star on the table next to it before spinning to face Oliver.
Big, gorgeous, sexy, heartbreaking Oliver. Oliver who seemed to know so many things that he shouldn’t and who had to be wrong about her dying. Right? “Talk.” Gia crossed her arms over her chest.
But he was taking his time and strolling around her small den. Poking and prodding at things. He’d put down the other cup of hot chocolate and had lifted up a photo frame. A photo of—dang it all—them. “Surprised you still wanted to see me.”
“What did you think I would do? Act like you never existed?” Her response was clipped. “You made me happy. I like to keep memories of happy times.”
He looked over at her. “All of my happy times were with you.”
Do not weaken. “Right up until the moment you ran out of on me.”
“I was shifting while we were making love. Thought I’d hurt you.
Thought it would never be safe for you to be around me.
” He glanced back at the photo. It had been taken on one of their many hiking trips.
She knew they were hugging each other and grinning from ear to ear.
Longing flashed on his face as he stared at the photo.
“All I wanted was for you to have a happy, normal life.”
And all I wanted was to be with you.
With care, he put down the frame. Squared his shoulders and faced her. “You weren’t scared of me, were you?” He stalked toward her.
She stood in front of the tree.
“Even with claws, even with fangs, you still wanted to be with me.”
“That’s kind of what love is. Being there when things are easy? Anyone can do that. But staying when things get difficult—or, furry, as in your case—that’s what it means to truly love someone.” Her chin lifted. “I truly loved you. I would have done anything for you.”
Oliver flinched. “You’re using the past tense.”
She was. Deliberately. To make her point.