leans forward with his hands on the counter. “What do you expect me to think?” He abruptly turns his back; both hands go to his head and pull on his hair. I can just hear him mutter to himself, “Knew it was too fucking good to be true.”
The moment I see him start moving, I dart out of the kitchen and slip in front of him. I block the exit with my back against door and my arms spread wide. I meet his glare head on.
“Move.”
“No.”
“Fucking move.”
“No. I’m not gonna let you walk away. I didn’t. I asked for space, yes, but I didn’t walk out like you’re about to. If you recall, I was as hesitant as you were to start anything. Do you honestly believe I’m that good of an actor I can fake being into you? You’d have to be delusional.” I’m working up a good head of steam here, but I’m not done. “Life isn’t perfect, James Wells.” His nostrils flare and he takes a step closer when I use the name he was born with. “But to have you dismiss what’s happening between us as fantasy, when it’s the most agonizingly beautiful reality I’ve ever known, is inexcusable.”
Even as I utter the last syllable, he crowds me against the door, his arms braced on either side of my head, and his mouth slamming on mine in a punishing kiss.
I take it. I take all of it and give it back in equal measure. It’s angry and bruising at first—and goes a long way to burning out our tempers—until lips turn soft and the brush of tongues gentle.
When he ends the kiss, he leans his forehead to mine, his eyes full of remorse. I cover his lips with the tips of my fingers to stop him from saying the words he’s clearly struggling with.
“Come have some dinner first.”
I take his hand and lead him back to the kitchen.
Yuma
“One latte no sugar and one Americano.”
I grab the coffees I’ve already paid for and head outside where Lissie is siting at the small table, her face turned up to the sun.
Won’t be long until the temperatures will really start dropping, and before you know it we’ll be up to our armpits in snow. That means I’ll have to stable the bike until the damn stuff melts again. I should try and get Lissie out for a nice ride next time she’s got a day off.
She smiles at me when I hand over her coffee.
“Beautiful day.”
“Yes, it is,” I agree.
To think I almost walked out on this—on her—last night. Almost stepped over that edge I know would’ve been straight into the darkness, but she held me back. She didn’t bow down. Outshouted those demons feeding my self-defeating thoughts.
I was right when I told Trunk this woman is so much stronger than I am. She’s strong enough for both of us.
Last night we wound up in her bed, and we ended up falling asleep simply holding each other. Another new experience for me.
“Tell me about Dani.” She looks at me over the rim of her coffee cup, surprised. “Maybe I can help?” It’s my version of an apology, one she hasn’t allowed me to verbalize any other way.
“You sure?” she asks with barely concealed hope, and I feel like an ass when I nod. “I have notes at home—pages I pulled out of my journals—with some recaps of conversations I had with her. I also have a few pictures and some postcards. Not a lot, and I’ve gone over them time and time again without finding anything, but I keep thinking there’s something there. Something I’m missing.”
“Want me to have a look at them?”
“Would you? I can show you later. They’re at the apartment.”
I grab my cup and get up.
“Then let’s go.”
_______________
I look at the pictures first. In one of them a much younger Lissie, maybe sixteen or so, has her arms wrapped around a blonde girl with pigtails sticking out all over her head, wearing some kind of corset. She looks familiar.
“That’s Dani. She had a thing for Gwen Stefani.”
That’s who she reminds me of. I had a thing for Gwen Stefani myself.
“I can see that. How old were you?”
“We were seventeen. The summer before our senior year high school.”
I flip over the next picture. This one is the girl by herself, a little older, sitting by a campfire, a tent and mountains behind her. She has a bandana covering her hair, wearing a big smile, and is holding