Chapter Twenty

Garrett

He had been scared to sleep a wink, so he didn’t try. He wasn’t going to risk missing a single moment. He couldn’t. Not when it came to his girl.

In the silence of the room he watched her sleep. He watched and memorized every little thing he could. The way her hair got in her face and somehow added an allure to her. The way she shifted and even in sleep reached for him, and how he was more than happy to hold her as his heart steadily beat away under her ear. The silky feel of her hair between his fingers as he stroked it, very well knowing the heavy cross he was carrying. She was safe and sound in his arms, yet she wasn’t. He wasn’t stable, and he couldn’t promise to have a hold of the shit that swirled in his head. He’d known that, and he’d still taken her.

Garrett knew he’d fucked up.

Big.

She was too fucking sweet and seductive for her own good. He had been too weak to resist her. To tell her he was leaving.

He’d seriously messed up.

He’d been weak and unable to stop her when she’d offered everything she did. Too cowardly to stop her when he’d ordered her to straddle him. He’d needed to have her. To possess her. One last time. He’d been ravenous for her, and she had done what she always did.

Give and give and give.

She turned, her eyes bright on him, her smile shining so much fucking light he almost swore he needed sunglasses. He was head over ass in love with her, but he couldn’t do this. He couldn’t keep her.

“I have to leave,” he mumbled roughly, hating himself as the last word slipped out of his mouth, his heart beating at double speed.

Her smile faltered, and it was like a car accident happening in front of him. He didn’t have the balls to turn away or do anything to stop it. He took every shard of pain showing in her gaze and let it bleed him out. Before he knew it, she sat up and away from him, his hands immediately missing the way she’d felt.

She turned. Her flawless back stretched as she sat ramrod straight. Shutting him out, not letting him watch. He felt like air couldn’t physically fill his lungs.

“I know.” She didn’t turn to look at him. Everything in his body yelled to touch her.

Hold her.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he stood there like a sack of coal.

Lifeless.

Heartless.

Soulless.

“I was going to tell you,” he lied. Shit. Fuck!

He wished it were true. He had wanted to tell her about Marty’s offer the second he’d hung up with his buddy. Instead, he’d moved his ass and packed the last of his things in Marc’s big house and drove his ass to Big Bear. Garrett had been there as he had looked over the contracts. He’d be gone for sixteen weeks if he signed them. Which he hadn’t. He had to see her before he did, so waking up today, he’d been done putting it off and had shot her a text to meet him at the hotel.

“No, you weren’t.” Her eyes met his, and he hated what he saw staring back at him.

Defeated sadness and pain. Pain he had put there because he had been too damn selfish and arrogant to stay away from her. He should have been prepared for her to call him on his lie.

“Stef…” He didn’t finish saying her name, choking on the last syllable as he caught sight of the lone tear rolling down her face.

One she quickly wiped away.

One he wished he’d been able to wipe away, or better yet, never have put there in the first place.

“You have to go. You should go,” her voice rasped. She turned from him and picked up her cute denim skirt from the floor.

It was the same one she’d been wearing the night he’d seen her singing horribly on that damn karaoke night. The same skirt she’d worn the night she’d stolen the small piece of his heart that had still existed, and somehow with her light, had made grow.

“Stefanie, I have to—” She looked at him, and the words died off in his throat.

“You want to. This is your choice. This isn’t a debate, so don’t try to sell it like I have any say in what you have to do.”

“You don’t understand,” he rasped.

“I do. Just know this is it. No more, Garrett. No more of this going back and forth. You have to do whatever you have to do. Great, solider boy. Awesome.” She gave him two thumbs up and a stone-cold gaze. “But I’m over this. I’m done. Don’t come back,” she seethed, and he couldn’t blame her. “You are nothing but a liar,” she announced. “Two-way street.” She humorlessly shook her head. “Do you even know the meaning of what that is?” He opened his mouth, but the daggers she threw in his direction made him stay silent.

He watched her get dressed in silence. She was obviously done talking to him.

He soaked in the bitterness of the quiet, intimate moment. She sat on the bed next to him to zip up the ankle boots she’d been wearing and ran a hand over her shoulder-length reddish-brown hair.

He moved his head toward her, unsure of what to say, but like every time he caught sight of her, she left him speechless. She was so fucking beautiful it hurt to look at her. But it was the kind of pain he didn’t mind. It was the kind that left you feeling warm and comforted like the first sunny day after a snowstorm.

He shifted to sitting next to her, but she didn’t move. Then again, she wasn’t the one pushing him away. Instead, she stoically looked ahead, lost in her own thoughts. Fuck, he wanted to know what was running through her mind. He could only see her profile but felt her hand move next to his on the hotel sheets. Her delicate pinky brushed up against his, and he hooked his with hers. He took it as a good sign, but he was still hesitant since she hadn’t turned to look at him.

“I—”

“Don’t,” she clipped, a tinge of pink covering her cheekbones. “I know you think I’m young and sweet and naive and obviously stupid…”

“I don’t—” he tried to interrupt, but the way her eyes flared made him shut his trap immediately.

“You do,” she scoffed. “I might be with certain things,” she sighed, then went in for the kill. “But never with you.” Stefanie turned to look at him, and his heart hurt in a way he’d never experienced, not once in his thirty-eight years of life.

Not even in the aftermath of having seen his best friend die in his arms overseas.

“I knew this was only a matter of time,” she put out there, and fuck, he wanted to argue with her. “But you fought that. You kept wanting more and more of me—”

“Sunshine—” he strangled out, but any thought of any other words coming out stopped in the middle of his throat when their eyes connected.

Fuck, what did I do?

“You pushed and pushed. You got me. And for what? So, the first time there’s a hiccup—”

“It was more than a fucking hiccup, and you know it!” he hissed, but his girl didn’t shy away. Fire ignited behind her tawny eyes.

“It was a nightmare!”

“You don’t know shit,” he hissed, turning his body away from her.

Every damn molecule of his being was straining for him to reach for her.

To hold her.

To take back his decision.

“I guess I don’t,” she softly answered. “I was just stupid enough to fool myself into believing things that were not there.”

“That’s not…” He didn’t finish his sentence as he turned because of the steely determination he saw on her face.

Determination and the balls to do what she had to do. He admired her. Jesus, do I ever. The way she lived life to the fullest despite the shit she’d seen. She never let it get to her. He wished he had the balls she did when life got tough. She faced everything head on, jumping right in without a second thought. He’d seen it over and over the last couple of months.

“You said this was a two-way street,” she whispered. Something ugly seeped into his blood. “You said I was safe with you.” He stilled. He had. He had said those exact things. “You said you were stuck with me. You even promised, Garrett.”

Jesus. She was going to kill him. His chest was heaving heavily up and down as he stood his ground, fighting his heart to grab onto her. He fought and nearly lost the moment she grabbed her purse and walked over to him, knowing the end was so fucking near he could taste it.

“You’re a liar and a coward,” she gave a verbal punch, and he deserved it, so he sat there and took it, bracing for another lashing, but his girl was too good. “I hope you stay safe with whatever you have to go do, soldier boy,” she whispered before leaning in, surprising him with a hot and heavy kiss he let her control.

She tasted sweet and of unfulfilled dreams. The good kind. He tried to memorize it, but it went by too quickly.

She broke the kiss, righted herself, and walked out of the room, gently closing the door behind her.

His fists clenched, his nails marking half-moons on the insides of his palms. His shoulders and head slumped forward, everything in his body hurting. Aching at the idea of never seeing her again.

He would only be gone two months, but he didn’t ask her to wait for him. He just needed time to get his head right. Time to see if he ever really could.

Shit. What if while he was gone she met someone else?

Someone else who would hold her hand.

Someone else who would happily watch her sing and torture poor, unsuspecting souls on karaoke nights at the Lunar Dive.

Someone else would touch and kiss every inch of her body.

Someone else would claim her as his own. That thought made his blood boil in anger.

No! He loved her! She was his, damn it! Not anyone else’s.

Shit.

He sat there for a long second, letting the realization sink in. If he let her walk away right now, he’d put any kind of future with her at risk. Or hadn’t he already? He’d never told her how much he loved her. Not out right, at least. The words had always choked him with the fear that saying them out loud would somehow tempt fate to take away the happiness he had found.

But damn it, he loved her.

There was no doubt in his mind or heart, no argument about how he felt. He just needed to do this. He needed to get his shit together. He needed to find his purpose.

But did purpose matter if he lost her?

Any other man would sweep in and claim her.

Jesus Christ. He rubbed his face. He was head over heels in love with his little bit of sunshine.

She was it for him.

There would never be anyone else for him, and she needed to know it.

Throwing on his jeans, zipping them up, and grabbing the hotel keycard, he ran out of the room, not giving a shit who saw him running barefoot and shirtless like a maniac. He reached the parking lot out of breath only to capture a glimpse of Stefanie’s beautiful tear-stained face, their eyes meeting for a millisecond before she drove out of the lot in her death trap of a car.

No. No. No. No. No.

She’d turn back.

She would.

He stood there, resting his hands on his knees, looking toward the parking lot, and waited. She’s going to come back.

She saw him come after her. She would be back.

_______________

He waited.

For two hours.

Barefoot and shirtless in the very spot he’d reached when their eyes had met. But she didn’t come back.

He’d fucked shit up, and he had no clue how to fix things. He walked back into the room, closing the door behind him, resting his head on the cool wood. He looked at the dresser where he’d sat her the night before and had feasted on her like a sentenced man enjoying his last meal before being sent to death.

His eyes went to the chair by the window, where he’d sat and she’d kneeled for him, giving him pleasure with her mouth that was out of this world. Then, finally, he looked at the bed. Tangled sheets were all that was left of their last night together.

He’d known it was their last, and he’d let her believe like a true bastard that it was the start of something more. Of something deeper than they’d already had. That he wasn’t going to run.

He wanted to rip the room to shreds. He needed to kick the shit out of something because he couldn’t kick his own ass.

But he didn’t.

He let his pent-up anger and frustration simmer while he packed. He looked through the room one last time and saw something shimmer by the end of the dresser. Stef’s necklace lay on the ground. He picked it up gently. The small cactus-shaped charm sparkled back at him, and he closed his hand, putting it into his front pocket.

Checking out at the front desk, he was tempted to leave the necklace in hopes she would come back for it but didn’t. Selfishly, he held on to it in his hand as he walked toward his truck, throwing his duffle bag into the bed.

Sitting in the driver’s side of his big Silverado, he took a deep breath, her scent filling his senses. He took the necklace out, hung it over the rearview mirror, and drove away.

Stefanie

It had been the beginning of the end.

Damn, I hate being right.

Walking into my apartment hurt. He was there in every corner of the space. I could see him holding a water bottle while watching me cook in the kitchen. Cuddled next to me on the couch watching TV. I could see him lying in bed, snoring, his body on display for me to appreciate. I could feel him touching my skin and sinking into me.

But it was done.

He was going God only knew where, and I had fooled myself into believing otherwise. Always trust your gut. My gut had been yelling at me the last two weeks that this would happen. Instead of packing the last of his things into a box, I’d let my fingers touch the necklace and pray I was wrong.

But I’d been right.

Taking two steps in, I stopped.

I couldn’t be there.

Not now.

Now when it hurt to see him in every corner of my space. Not when I knew if I walked into my bedroom, there would be two drawers full of his clothes in my dresser and his toothbrush sitting next to mine in the bathroom. Not when his ugly old flip flops were next to my pink flats in the closet. Not when everything I’d had, had been ripped away.

Not when I was close to sinking to my knees as my heart broke even more.

Closing my eyes, I thought about his lips. His arms. The way he’d kissed and held me.

Why had he run out of the hotel?

I’d been tempted to turn my car around and see what he wanted, but it hurt too much. For all I knew, he was running out to ask about getting his things.

On auto pilot I stepped into the shower, needing to wash him off my skin. Then quickly changed into jeans and a tank top with a push-up bra. Screw Garrett Wright. Screw him. Who did he think he was, anyhow? I’d been a kid who had always wondered what having someone would feel like.

I wished I hadn’t.

This was exactly why it was better to keep to yourself. Lesson learned. A lightning bolt of pain shot through my heart, but I gritted my teeth and blinked away any tears that threatened to spill.

Do not cry, Stefanie! I chastised myself.

I knew better than wishing for more.

Wishing for more was like hoping a family would suddenly show up and want to adopt me. Like wishing I had new clothes instead of whatever hand-me-downs my foster parents could be bothered to get. It was like wishing for rain in the desert.

It didn’t happen.

There was only one place where I knew I’d feel better. With that, I walked through my space, ignoring every single reminder that Garrett Wright had existed in my life and for a split second, I’d had everything.

I could dwell on that tomorrow.

Tonight, I was going to drink and sing my heart out.