Storm Warning - By Kadi Dillon Page 0,47
a better way—”
“If you had known a better way,” she said slowly. “A better way?” She slapped the rag down and advanced on him. Sticking her finger into his chest, she fumed. “How about a word? A fucking note! Anything. Anything would have been better than for me to wake up, still smell you on the sheets, and get up to see you crossing the parking lot without a backwards glance.”
Gabe’s stared at her, shocked. “I didn’t know you saw me—”
“Saw you walk away?” she finished for him. “I counted every step you took away from me. I made excuses for you the next morning to the crew when I was alone, confused, and heart broken.”
He snorted. “I didn’t break your heart.”
“What? Is it not capable of breaking? I guess I deserve that.” She jerked her shoulder and focused on a spot above his left shoulder. “Well, it did break, Gabe. It broke into a million little pieces and it was my own damned fault. And why am I telling you all this?”
“You told me you didn’t need me,” he accused desperately. “You wanted me to leave.” He was focusing all his energy into controlling the bitter rage and disgust he felt toward himself for how he handled it—how he didn’t handle it.
“That wasn’t true. You should have known that wasn’t true. And I shouldn’t have said the things I said to you that day. I was angry and scared of what I thought was happening between us.”
Past tense, Gabe thought brokenly. Well, he would have to change that. “And what did you think was happening between us, Tory?”
She was silent a moment before she answered. Gabe saw several things in her eyes while they bore, dark and brilliant into his. Fear, wariness, but the humiliation he saw gnawed at him.
“I thought that maybe you were falling in love with me.” She lifted her hands, palms up and let them drop.
Hope set like an anvil on his chest. But he wasn’t going to assume. He had to hear the words. “And what made you think that?”
She flared again. “I don’t have to take this. Why did you come here, Gabe? I was doing fine without you.” Her voice would have been strong if it didn’t hitch on every other word. “I was here, doing what I was supposed to be doing. And then you show up.” She jabbed her finger at him again. “What the hell do you mean popping in this way and ruining everything I’ve built?”
“I was worried.”
“Worried? You were worried about the jilted lover you left without a word three months ago because of some stupid article?” She snorted and shook her head. “I find that hard to believe.”
“And you’re right.”
“I make it a policy to be right, but what exactly am I right about?” She slipped her shaking hands into her pockets.
It was now or never, he thought, searching her face. She was so pale, and he just now noticed the purple smudges of exhaustion under her eyes.
“I was in love with you. Am. And I was afraid you didn’t love me back, so I left.” He came to her now when she only stared at him, her face drawn, her eyes dark. But he didn’t touch her. “I’m sorry I left the way I did. But when we had that fight before Vance took off with you, you said those things and I believed them. I should have seen through it, but I didn’t for a long time and that was my mistake.”
“Get out.” Her voice hitched so she covered her mouth with her hand and gave herself a minute. Gabe only continued to stare at her. “I want you to leave.”
“I’m sure you do.” He helped himself to more lemonade. The truth of it was—he was terrified it was too late for them. He thought of the diamond necklace she still wore. The necklace he gave her when words couldn’t say he loved her. And she still wore it. “You’re not comfortable with anything that’s out of your control. I just bared my soul to you. Now it’s your turn. How do you feel?”
“Tired,” she said achingly. “Please, go.”
“I’m not leaving.”
“Go back to your blond bimbo and take your stupid pictures, but do it out of Oklahoma and out of my sight. I can’t take this anymore. It hurts so much, Gabe, so damn much and I can’t do it.”
Undone, Gabe slammed his glass down and took her by the arms.
“No,” she sobbed, shoving