Never His Girl (Kings of Cypress Prep #2) - Rachel Jonas Page 0,39
see that last arrangement waiting for me, but—
My heart drops to my stomach. Because there’s a tall, broad-framed figure standing on the other side of the threshold. Dressed in dark jeans and a gray t-shirt that clings to his biceps and chest. He’s clutching his jacket in one hand, and holding the last vase in the other. Then, when I finally peer up, a set of green eyes that have been my undoing since day one burn a hole right through me.
They’re softer than I remember, swimming with emotion I hardly thought him capable of feeling, but… there it is. Plain as day. And damn my stupid heart for being affected.
My shoulders heave beneath the robe and I’m still raw. His recent offense is still burned into memory, still burned into my flesh, making it painful to stare at him now, but I can’t turn away.
“What the hell do you want, West?”
“Just to talk,” he answers. “That’s the only thing I’ve asked you for all week.”
I stare up at him, feeling the rims of my nostrils flaring. “Call you back, Jules,” I say into the speaker on my earbuds.
“And I’ll be expecting a full rundown of—”
Cutting her off, I end the call and shove the earbuds into the pocket of my robe, never taking my eyes off West.
Whether I think he deserves it or not, he has my attention.
“This was you?” I ask, glancing down at the flowers he’s holding.
He nods, thoughtfully biting the side of his lip before speaking. “And the room.”
My heart sinks when he says that, realizing this whole weekend has been orchestrated by his hand. I swallow and straighten my posture, feeling the need to pretend I wasn’t impressed with the accommodations whatsoever.
“Well, either way, I’m not letting you in. So, you should just go,” I finally answer. But when I move to close the door in his face, his words halt me.
“I know the last fucking thing you want to hear is my voice, but… shit. I can’t stand this anymore,” he admits.
I hate that I hesitate, keeping my hand on the door when it should be closed, acting as a barrier between us. But instead, I’m listening to my heart thunder inside me.
“Please,” he says. “I’m… I’m fucking begging, Southside.”
Those words weren’t easy for him to say. It sounded as if he had to pry them from the roof of his mouth, and now he wants to rinse his tongue clean of them. But as hard as they seem to have been to say, they sure as hell aren’t easy to hear, either. Because he still affects me, whether I like it or not.
“I gave in and trusted you once, West, and it turned out to be the worst mistake of my life,” I force out, keeping my back to the door while he speaks from the other side.
“And I take full responsibility for that shit. Believe me. Which is why I’m trying like hell to make things as close to right as I can.”
I should’ve kept Jules on the phone.
I should’ve shut him out.
I should’ve—
“Please, Southside.”
My eyes fall closed and I blame this slight weakness I feel on the Vodka. It’s the only excuse I have when I take a step, turn, and slowly let the door swing open between us.
Otherwise, I’d have to own the fact that he still has some small measure of power over me.
“Two minutes,” I say through clenched teeth. “But just know… there will be conditions.”
Chapter 15
BLUE
I don’t miss the relief that sweeps over him when I give in a little, but he doesn’t speak.
He’s so mild tonight, lacking the abrasiveness and sharp edges I’ve become accustomed to. It makes him hard to read, because this isn’t the side of him I know. I’m reminded of what Joss said on the bus as we traveled to regionals, though. She described him in a softer light. One where he’s a loyal friend, a good person.
He steps into the room and I’m immediately on guard, scanning him with my eyes, like I expect him to draw a weapon of some sort. Only, that’s not what I fear when it comes to West. I’m quite familiar with his typical arsenal, and it consists of venomous words and public humiliation.
The door latches and I wince a little, staring as he sets the last vase on the carpet beside him. Right away, I wish I’d thought to turn on more lights before letting him in. Instead, we’re bathed in a soft, flickering glow—far