Now

Carys

I PLACE THE LAST glass on the shelf when it hits me, or rather he does. It’s that sixth sense, the unmistakable prickling you get when someone’s watching you or when you know something’s about to happen. He’s here, and the adrenaline of being close buzzes through my veins.

Reluctantly, I turn, hoping I’m wrong, while knowing I’m right. Sure enough, Evan’s headed straight for me. His long strides quickly eat up the distance between us.

His body oozes confidence with his relaxed swagger, sexy smirk, and twinkling eyes on me. Low in my belly, there’s a vise-like tightening as I fight his undeniable appeal.

Some things never change. He’s the type of guy you notice, and several women follow his every move. In his well-worn blue jeans and tight-fitting black t-shirt, every defined muscle and every hard line is panty-melting. Yes, he is that impressive.

Attempting indifference, I nod and head to the far end of the bar, away from him. I drag the wet rag across the bar top I cleaned no more than thirty minutes ago, but he doesn’t know that.

Joe and Marty, two of my regulars, stop their chatter to watch me complete my task. They must think I’m wacko.

“Marty, do you want a refill?” I motion to his almost empty beer.

“Sure, honey, I’d love one.”

 With the intensity of his eyes on me, an uncomfortable warmth ignites within me. “Hey, Sweetness.” Evan’s deep, smooth voice sends a shiver up my spine as I place Marty’s beer on the bar.

“Hey yourself.” I’m going for casual, although I’m anything but. I’ve got a million questions I want to ask, but I won’t give in and show him that I care. “What are you doing here?”

“I thought I’d have lunch with my girl and catch up.”

His mischievous grin reveals his intent to poke the bear. I’d like nothing better than to ignore him, but I can’t. I can’t let his comment slide.

Standing in front of him, I cock my hip and straighten my spine. Our gazes clash. His captivating eyes cut through my defensive thoughts.

His irises are a kaleidoscope of earth tones, predominantly amber with flecks of green and gold. With a gulp, I internally shake myself. Carys, snap out of it. They’re merely incredible peepers. Focus.

“First, let’s get something straight: I’m not your girl.” His smile widens as he leans in. I subtly move back, not wanting to give the impression that I’m weak, moments away from being a hot puddle of desire. “What can I get you?”

“The usual.” His tone is like an intimate caress between lovers.

Narrowing my eyes, I glare at him as heat creeps into my cheeks. Yes, I do know what his usual is, and I hate how he’s using our past, our familiarity, to manipulate me and weaken my resolve. That’s the problem with trying to protect my heart, or the bit of it I have left—he knows exactly how to get at it.

“Van.” I lob back my own well-aimed shot and he grimaces, like he’s tasted something sour. “Cut it out. Your burger will be up in fifteen, go find a table.”

“I want to sit here.”

“Seriously?”

“You said we could be friends, so I want to get reacquainted with my friend. Besides, we need to talk.”

“Fine, but I can’t talk now.”

“Then when?”

“I don’t know.”

I do want to hear what he has to say, but now is not the time or the place. I take up residence at the other end of the bar, chatting with customers until his lunch is ready. All the while, he watches me with a lazy grin and a playful glint in his eye. Whenever our eyes meet, he waves or chuckles, thoroughly enjoying this.

“Here you go.” I place his plate in front of him, then turn to leave.

He grabs my wrist and I freeze, goosebumps erupting along my arm.

“What?” I glare over my shoulder at where his hand is snuggly wrapped around my skin. His thumb softly strokes my hand and messes with my insides.

“Please stay, talk to me.” His voice is needy.

“Van, now is not the time.”

“Please, stop calling me Van.”

“Why? It’s what your friends call you. Aren’t I your friend?”

Chuckling, he releases me and nods. “Yeah, but you and I both know that until now, you’ve never called me Van. I’m Evan to you, and I like it that way.”

“I don’t care what you like.”

A part of me is filled with unease at my barb, but I’m also hurt and angry. He left me, broke my heart.

“Fair enough.” His voice is low, resigned.

I turn away, sinking into the dark memory of the fateful day we ended. A phone call was all it took, ending it all without any real explanation.

My phone rings, and I glance at the screen: the number’s blocked. Without hesitation, I answer. With Evan on assignment, he could call at any time of day or night, and the numbers are almost always blocked or unknown.

“Hello?” Hopeful anticipation laces my voice. We haven’t spoken in weeks and when he left, something felt wrong. His departure was abrupt and his explanation more vague than usual. I’ve been anxiously awaiting his call or some contact, or even better, his return.

“Carys.” His tone is flat and there’s no sweetness in it.

It’s not unusual that he says Carys; while he rarely uses my given name, he has on occasion. What’s weird is the coldness in his voice.

“Hi.” I push past the alarm, just happy that it’s him. “How are you?”

“Listen, things have changed. It’s over.”

“Really? That’s great. When are you coming home?”

“No.” His voice is hard and short, and I realize I misunderstood. He wasn’t talking about the assignment. “We’re over. Know that you deserve only the best in the world, and I’m not the guy to give that to you. I’m not coming back, and don’t wait.”

“What?” The shrieking pitch of my voice startles me; my heart stutters. Each word out of his mouth is like a kick to my sternum and a vicious stomp on my heart. “You can’t do this. We love each other. I’ll wait for you. I don’t care how long it will take.”

“You’re not listening,” he says. “It’s over. I’m not coming back and don’t look for me. I might not make it back from this mission, and if I do, I won’t be coming back to you. Tell Ry not to look for me. It’s over. We’re over.”

My head pounds, tight and sluggish from trying to decipher what he’s really saying.

“If you think you’re protecting me, you’re not.” I take a stab in the dark at what might be prompting him to do this. The only thing that makes sense is that he’s doing this for my safety. He must be in danger, and I might be, too.

“Listen to me, I have to end the call, but before I do…” His tone is harsh, lifeless, cold, one I’ve never heard before. This is Evan the Soldier. I only know of this man’s existence, but I’ve never met him. “You and I are over. Do not wait for me. I’m moving on.”

“No, you’re not.” I’m emphatic and frantic, knowing that a man who has never slept with another person but me would not just walk away. “You love me!”

Tears stream down my face, and my hands tremble, as my insides threaten to burst out of my chest.

“No. I will move on. I will find someone else,” he grinds out, and if it wasn’t for the slight hitch at the end, the wobble in his voice, my heart would have broken. That infinitesimal chink in his armor gives me hope. Perhaps it’s senseless and delusional, but it’s something, a chance to stop this insanity.

“You’re not protecting me,” I sob. “You’re hurting me. Evan, you’re not alone.”

Before I can say any more, he hangs up. The crack of my heart can be heard above the jarring dial tone, the pain ripping through me.

Closing my eyes, my knees crumple, my heaves multiply, and I collapse on the floor in a fit of agony and disbelief. I want to call him back, find him and make him say it to my face. I want to turn back time and never have answered the phone.

“Sweetness.” Evan’s smooth, silky voice breaks through the reliving of my nightmare.

As I gaze into his deep, tender eyes, the need to cry is overwhelming. I can barely look at him. I need to get away, need to put both real and proverbial distance between us, despite having spent the past couple of years yearning for the exact opposite.

I had only one wish, one thought—to be near him—and now, that’s the last thing on my mind. He needs to understand that I did exactly what he asked, what he demanded of me. I moved on.

“Oh, I’ve got something for you.” I shift topics to something that will reinforce our separate lives.

His eyebrows arch, his interest piqued as I quickly run through the door toward the office. Returning, I plunk down the offending keys to his townhouse in front of him.

“Here, take back your place.”

“What? No. It’s yours. I gave it to you.”

“I don’t want it.” I cross my arms and stare intently at him.

“Sweetness…”

“No, Evan.” I relent and use his name, hoping it’ll soften his position. “Please take them. I’m not living there. I haven’t since the day you left.”

“I know.”

His response is a red flag, another question to add to my already long list. How does he know I didn’t live there? Was I being watched while he was gone?

Anything is possible with him. He’s told me little about his time in the Army, but I’ve gathered enough to know he was among the military’s crème de la crème. He most certainly encountered the enemy, even in parts of the world where we’re not at war.

He’s a highly-skilled soldier, and he has the means and the know-how to do pretty much anything. He likely did have me under surveillance. The thought angers me, but it also warms my heart because it proves that he, just like me, couldn’t walk away.

“How?”

My impulsive question is futile because knowing won’t change anything. He may have cared and was probably lying when he said he no longer did, for whatever reason. But the fact remains, he left me.

He can’t just waltz back into my life and expect to pick up where we left off. Sorry, dude, that shit doesn’t fly with me. I have a life without him.

“You know what? Don’t tell me. I really don’t care.”

Feeling my grip on the situation slipping, I leave the bar, even with Evan calling after me. I can’t stay, even though I have so many questions. Not right now.

Nabbing one of the servers in the kitchen, I ask them to cover for me and slip out the back.

Of course, my getaway isn’t clean. Ma is walking toward me, shopping bags in hand. There’s a side entrance in the alley that leads directly to her apartment.

“Love, leaving already?” There’s a slight lilt of an Irish accent in Ma’s voice, even after all these years stateside.

“Yes, I’ve got errands to run. Someone’s birthday is coming up and I’ve got things to do for the party,” I joke.

It’s her birthday that’s approaching and while it isn’t a big one, we always throw a party. It’s the one day—besides the obligatory Mother’s Day—that she lets us do something special for her.

Laughing, she puts her arms around my waist and pulls me in close for a hug.

“How are you doing, my sweet girl?”

Sighing at what she means, I give her my best smile. “I’m okay. Evan’s inside.”

“Yes, I know. He told me he was stopping by. I’ll pop in to say hello later. Do you want to come up for tea and a chat?”

“Rain check? I do have things to do.”

“Carys, this doesn’t have to be hard.” Her tone is motherly and philosophical. “You and Evan love each other…” Opening my mouth, I prepare to protest, but she squeezes my side to shush me. “And while you’re no longer together, don’t let the past destroy the love. You were dear friends before anything else, and you could be so now. Oh, one more thing, my love—Evan could use a friend.”