Texting With the Enemy (Digital Dating #1) - Marika Ray Page 0,51

on her face as she met my eyes. My heart nearly exploded as she looked at me, and I sensed she was giving me one last chance.

“El,” I managed, not willing to let her walk away again without at least giving it a real try. “I never meant to hurt you. I didn’t. But I’m just . . .” I took a deep breath. Time to be real. “I’m not good at opening myself up. I think maybe sometimes I try to be busy, be in charge of everything, because it keeps me from having to admit that I’m a little bit afraid to connect with people. I’ve never been good at it, and the only times I’ve tried . . . well, they’ve ended badly. The thing with Chad—it was like it gave me an opportunity to be someone else. To kind of hide. And if it didn’t go well, or you didn’t like what he said, then it was okay, because it wasn’t me.”

I shut my mouth, feeling like I’d essentially just tossed my heart out onto the floor between us and now I was hoping she wouldn’t kick it into the corner with the dusty shards of pottery gathered there.

“Oh,” she said. A thoughtful look passed through her eyes, but then it was gone. “Okay. Thanks for telling me that.”

And then she turned and headed out the door.

18

Isabel

* * *

I didn’t see anything. Couldn’t hear anything. I was walking out the door like a scared little chicken, too overwhelmed by what Boston had just shared to function properly. And let’s face it, I was Isabel Watson, the bumbling blonde with coordination issues and a surprisingly long streak of bad luck. That was my only explanation for what happened next.

My shoulder hit the side of the doorframe and the impact jarred my teeth loose. It also jarred loose the teeth on my zip up sports bra. I spun in a full circle due to the impact, during which time my girls felt their restraints fall away and headed for a hasty escape as the zipper gave. My arms came up to cross over the front of my chest and I ran into another wall. This time the wall was Boston. His eyes peered down at me, looking so concerned it further melted that wall of ice I’d been trying to build around my heart. I wanted to look down to assess the situation, but I didn’t dare. It was bad. I could feel the sides of the bra poking out the armholes of my tank top while the rest of me was now way too visible through the front of my thin shirt.

I just shook my head and held my arms steady as my last line of defense. Boston, bless him, assessed the situation quickly and launched into action. His arms came around me and I may have sighed at his touch. He pulled me into his chest, flattening me against him and thus wrangling in the wayward bits. We started shuffling sideways out the door in an awkward dance until we hit his car parked at the curb outside the pottery shop.

“Where’d you park?” he asked gently, still holding me tight.

I cringed. “It’s a nice day. I parked a couple blocks over to get in some walking.”

Boston just nodded and unlocked his door, shuffling us over to the passenger side. “Hop in. I can shield you while you, um, fix things, or just drive you to your car.”

“Thanks,” I mumbled, already missing his arms as he let go to get my door. I climbed into his fancy car and tried to slow my racing heart. I didn’t prepare myself for him holding me like that. He came around the hood and climbed in, grabbing a jacket from the backseat and holding it up to shield me from anyone walking by outside. I could smell his cologne and the familiar scent made me want to weep.

Why was I mad at him again? While I zipped my sports bra back up and got things situated, I realized two things. I missed Boston and I couldn’t find even a ribbon of anger still inside. So, if I wasn’t mad at him any longer, why wasn’t I jumping at the chance to put us both out of our misery?

“Thank you, Boston,” I said quietly.

He lowered his jacket and shot me a shy smile before starting the car. He drove me back to my car in silence, not pushing me or pleading