The Ahern Brothers Collection - Claudia Burgoa Page 0,115
it to change to green.
“You live around the area?” His voice is loud, but not forceful.
I feel as if he’s trying to reach me but he’s afraid of something. I hope that my therapist has a stronger tea in her drawer because chamomile won’t be enough to control all the emotions fluttering inside me like a bird flying south knowing winter is coming.
“M-hmm.” I glance at the almost deserted streets and sigh with relief when the light finally turns green.
A block later, I arrive at my house. It’s small, barely two thousand square feet with two bedrooms, but the lot is huge. It was a bargain. The lady who sold it to me hadn’t done much to it since her husband died back in the 90s. I’ve been fixing it up for the past six months, and Chester has been enjoying the space. He’s a spoiled pup who believes that the entire neighborhood is his playground and the backyard his castle.
“Abby,” Wes calls after me, as I climb the steps toward the porch. “Please, just have coffee with me. You can’t tell me you don’t feel the pull.”
“What I feel are your eyes pitying me,” I say with my most monotone voice. “The way you stared at my hands. I get it so often, and I don’t even care, but coming from you …”
I punch in the code on the lock and wiggle the handle to open the front door. Then, I turn around and straightening my back to make sure that my voice doesn’t waiver.
“This is me, doing what I do with every other guy who can’t stand the sight of my hands, because if you can’t stomach those little lines, you’ll hate the rest.” I hold them up, palms facing me. “And let’s be honest, we can’t try to get our old friendship back because it doesn’t exist.”
He takes both my hands in his, bringing them up to his mouth. Wes feathers them with tiny kisses then looks at me. “I stared because I always wonder what I could’ve done to prevent that night from happening. Abby, I fucked up in so many ways, but mostly, I regret retreating into myself when you told me what had happened to you.”
Wes stands still, quiet, his expression neutral. I pull my hands from his grasp, missing his warmth immediately and wishing for his lips.
“I was upset and trying to figure out how to fix it, to make it better for you.” He combs his hair with one hand. “You’re right, I focused on fixing people. It was a bad habit. Nothing I say about the past will change what happened. I’m just sorry that I wasn’t there for you—emotionally—when you needed me.”
There’s something about his words, the nostalgic tone that makes me focus inward. I think of the moment I confessed the truth to him. Every piece of my life I’d tried to hold together suddenly fell, and I couldn’t do it anymore. I told Wes about the abuse and the night Ava died because I thought he would understand. Instead, he shut down. I felt lonely. Never in my life had I ever felt so alone, and I’d survived on my own for years.
“Abby,” he murmurs, his voice almost lost in the silence of the night.
I look at him, bite my lip, and see the agony passing over his handsome face.
“It’s just a fucking coffee,” his says in a low tone. “Allow me to introduce you to the person I’ve become, while I get to know the new you.”
I shiver at the sound of his voice. The rough, yet soft tone only he can produce. It’s masculine, raw, and yet still warm. It hypnotizes me and makes me feel completely safe.
Focus, I order myself. Think of what can happen in the long run. Your heart won’t recover if you let him inside. He’s sneaky and will make you fall in love. The next time he leaves, it’ll be a million times harder to get over him.
“I loved you,” I say. “God knows I did. But it didn’t work. We broke each other’s hearts.”
We both got hurt, it wasn’t just me. Three years ago, neither of us could do a thing about it. He tried to fix me all the while knowing there was no way he could. We stand silently, and I hate that there’s not much we can do. Everything contradicts itself. He was part of a dream, and now he’s here, but there’s nothing left.