Every Little Piece - By Kate Ashton Page 0,41

that haunts her face.

“Oh, my God, Hales.” I run my hand down her arm and then graze her cheek. She tenses. I lean closer, waiting for her to bolt but she doesn’t. The raw emotion pulses between us, drawing us together. I whisper my lips against hers. Her soft lips create a rush of memories. “Hales,” I murmur. I kiss her not because I want to get in her pants but because I want to make her feel again. I want to feel again. I want her to feel my love and my pain too. She needs to know she isn’t alone.

At first she holds back but when I touch her face, she responds. Her skin feels so soft that I groan. Her lips part and she gasps when our kiss deepens. I pull her to me and a tear clings on my eyelash. We pause in that position. We’re both shaking. Our lips hungry for each other, for the familiar feel and taste. The emotion crashes in just as a rush of cold water hits our feet and moves up to our knees.

She gasps and pushes me away. The water is numbing but the needles of ice feel good. They distract. The ocean breeze whispers between us and a chill wraps around me.

Her voice chokes up. “What do you want from me?”

My voice is hoarse too. “We need to talk.”

“Forget it.” Her words are ice.

“We can go slow. Start slow.”

Her body trembles and her eyes flash. “You can’t just waltz into town, throw yourself at me and get what you want. Life doesn’t work that way.”

I study her face, the sadness in her eyes, her hunched shoulders. The truth hits me just as another wave does too, but we still don’t move. From what I can tell, she feels guilty and refuses to move on with her life. My heart breaks. That’s my job, not hers. I need to set her free to live her life, even if it means I get left behind.

“How about a date?” I ask tenderly and graze her cheek with my knuckles.

She laughs but it’s a dry, brittle sound. “Seriously? A date?”

I take a chance and broach a painful subject. “What about this weekend? Are you going?”

She almost curls up on herself and whispers, “I’m not going.”

“Give me a couple days.”

“For what?” She brushes her hair back and shivers. Finally, she stands and moves away from the water. “I’m freezing!”

I stand and grab her hand. “Give me a couple days and I promise you’ll want to open the invitation you probably shoved deep in a desk drawer. Give me that to prove that you should start living life again.”

A spark of hope flashes in her eyes but quickly fades. “I can’t do this.”

“I’ll swing by the restaurant.”

“I won’t be there.”

And then she’s gone. My body shakes violently, and I lean over with my hands on my knees. Shit. This is hard.

My feet are still numb from the ocean, so I stumble back into the restaurant. On my break, all I wanted was a peek at the stormy crashing surf that matched my insides. I didn’t expect to meet Seth. I didn’t expect to talk to him. Or kiss him. And a date? I mean, seriously. What was he thinking? I wrap my arms around myself and rub the goosebumps from my skin. I’ve missed him desperately and deeply, more than I ever realized.

An ache settles in my chest and for the first time in months I want to cry. But along with the ache comes the truth that this can’t happen. That he and I can’t exist in this world, at least not together. I made a promise. One I intend to keep.

I grab empty plates and mugs and carry them over to the counter. I slam them down a little too hard. The dishwasher keeps about his work, not caring if I break dishes. But Tom will care. This is his place, and he graciously gave me a place to stay and a job. I lean against the counter and take deep breaths, trying to stop the trembling, soaking in the familiar sounds. The chatter of the patrons, the clinking of dishes. But that laugh. That’s new.

Seth’s new girl leans against the counter, her bubbly smile plastered all over her face. Jealousy stabs at me but I push it away. What is she doing here? Does Seth know? I stride over and stand next to Justine who’s talking with her while she cleans