Now

Evan

SCANNING THE STREET, I check for signs of anything out of the ordinary. I have no reason to, it’s just habit. All is quiet. Slipping into the alleyway, I glance to the second-floor window. Ma’s place is dark, as it should be at this time of night—or actually, morning.

It’s Carys’s night to close the bar. She only does it once a week, and this is my chance to talk to her. I’ll admit that it’s calculated and risky because she could end up hating me more than she already does, but I have no choice. She’s been avoiding me for days, since we last spoke. Every time I show up, she leaves.

I was giving her time and space, but I’m not letting much more time pass us by. I need to tell her the truth. It’ll change things for us, that’s for sure, and it may even make them worse, but I must come clean if I want a shot at our future, the future we’re destined to have.

Checking the back door, I exhale in relief. I’m not sure what I’d have done if it was unlocked; all I know is that it wouldn’t have been pretty. I open the door with Ry’s keys and slip in through the kitchen. The faint glow from over the range lights my way down the hall to her office. I’m guessing that’s where I’ll find her.

The lights are on, door ajar, but the office is empty. As I head to the bar, the clinking of bottles makes me switch direction toward the storage room. She must be counting inventory or restocking.

Careful not to startle her, I quietly enter the room. I halt, nearly choking at the view of her bending over, placing bottles on the bottom shelf. Her delectable heart-shaped ass is up in the air, and all I want is to palm her round, luscious curves and see where it takes us. Shit, now my cock is hard as steel. Down boy.

I grit my teeth; I can’t get ahead of myself. She’s got to talk to me and forgive me before we get to any ass grabbing. Deliberately, I clear my throat to let her know I’m here. With a startled gasp, she jumps and twirls around, eyes wide and mouth open.

“Evan, what are you doing here? How did you get in?” Her voice is high-pitched, almost breathless, like she can’t get any air in.

“I have Ry’s key. I didn’t mean to surprise you.”

“Why are you here?”

“We need to talk and you’ve been avoiding me.”

“Have not.” She twirls to pick up the clipboard before marching past me into the hallway, her hips swaying and her tight ass teasing me. Fuck me.

“Yeah, you have.” I can’t help but grin at her silly antics. She’s cute. “Just like you’re trying to do now, except now it’s just you and me, and we are going to talk.”

Whether it’s my tone, words, or something else, something makes her decide to pivot to face me. Cocking her hip, she nibbles on her lower lip and contemplates. Our gazes lock as we both wait for the other to make a move.

“What do you want to talk about?”

“Seriously, Sweetness? You know we need to talk, and for the life of me, I can’t figure out why you’re stalling the conversation. It’s not like you. You usually face things head-on.”

“Evan, I want to know what happened, but I have a life now and you need to know…” She trails off, her eyes darting away from mine.

“What?”

Gazing up at me, she continues, “Whatever you have to say, it’s not going to change a thing. We’re over.”

My heart twists and breathing becomes difficult. Mother fuck, her words cut deep, hurting even though they aren’t true. Sure, she believes them on some level—she had to, in order to get through what I did. Yet, along with the hurt and disappointment swimming in her eyes, there’s also tenderness and love.

“Tell me you’re happy and I’ll walk away.”

We always pushed each other, challenged the other to face our fears, to be honest with ourselves, with each other. I need to hear her say it. I don’t believe it, but if she is over me, I need to hear it in her voice and see it in her face—not because I want to, but because it’s the only way I can even begin to accept that we’re over. Even then, it’s not possible.

“I’m happy.” Her tone is laden with bravado, but no true emotion. Even her gaze, which never wavers from mine, is flat.

Shaking my head, I briefly cast my eyes downward to suppress my smile. “No, you’re not.”

“Van.” I flinch at that fucking name.

As a child, I thought it was so fucking cool to have a nickname that only my best friends would call me. Now, hearing “Van” from her pretty lips, I want to obliterate the word from her vocabulary, fucking kiss the word out of her.

“You can call me asshole for all I care, you’re not happy,” I retort in frustration. Catching my tone, I breathe deeply and loosen my fists to relax. “Don’t lie to me, and most of all, don’t lie to yourself.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about. You want to see what you want. I’m with Greg, and we’re happy.”

She grimaces infinitesimally, then averts her eyes from me. Unable to read her, I’m not sure if it’s because she means it and doesn’t want to hurt my feelings or if the lie tastes nasty in her mouth.

“Sweetness, I know everything there is to know about you, without apology. You can’t lie to me.”

Impatience gets the better of me as I pounce, gently but firmly pinning her to the wall. I lean in and my warm breath skates along her jaw. Her intoxicating coconut scent causes my lips to curve into a smile as I peer into her big eyes.

“Try again, Sweetness. If you loved him—scratch that, love him.” I fail at hiding the pain in my roughly whispered words. Her eyes soften, as it’s clear she sees my torment at the reality of Greg in her life. I have no one to blame but myself. “You wouldn’t be with him this long if you didn’t feel something for this guy. That’s not who you are.”

She attempts to wrap her arms around herself, between us. Her expression is pained, almost humiliated, or… mortified? I don’t understand, but she’s repentant for something. As we share a loaded moment of silence, she straightens, her hand going to my face. My breath catches as my body stills in anticipation of her next move.

“Evan.” Her delicate fingers gently skate along my jaw.

The potency of her touch colors me, both settling my achy longing and spiking my heart rate, enflaming my untenable desire. I’ve never dared to truly fathom losing her, and now the thought cripples me. I want nothing more than to get her back.

“We are meant to be together.” My voice is low, husky, and resolute.

My fingers curl around her biceps, the feel of her soft skin in my grasp heady and soothing. Pulling her to me, I encase her slender body in my arms. God, breathing, being, thinking is easier, possible, with her next to my heart.

At first, Carys surrenders to me as she wraps herself around my middle on a sigh, burying her face into my chest. Like one, our inhales and exhales are in unison and we sink into each other. It’s maybe only a minute, but our embrace feels like a flash, or perhaps like it never happened, as she pulls away.

“We’re not, and before you argue with me, it’s hilarious that you can even say that,” she scoffs, sarcasm lacing her words. “If we were meant to be together, then why did you throw us away so easily? Why the hell did you walk away from me?”

While her anguish and anger are evident, we’re finally getting somewhere. She’s willing to hear my truth.