Heartbreaker (Unbreakable #1)(53)

“Have you ever been in love?”

Kiki pulled the bottle away and licked her lips. She stared hard at Logan. “Yeah. With the one guy who wouldn’t have sex with me.”

I wondered who that guy was for five idiotic seconds. Then it hit me.

Me. I’m the one guy.

Air sucked in and out in short bursts as I struggled to breathe.

Then I silently backed up and escaped through the rooftop door.





Kiki…

My head spun a little after the talk with Logan and not all of it from the slight beer buzz. As I drove through the gate of my property, still processing everything she’d shared—what I’d shared—Darren’s truck came into view.

He leaned against the back fender, knee bent with a foot propped on the tire, arms crossed over his chest. He stared at me with a dead-serious expression.

Busted. Somehow he knew. Everything about him seemed coiled, pissed. Had Logan called him after I left…or before?

I parked in my space and got out. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

Nothing more. Only the intensity of his stare.

“I just came from—”

“I know.”

“You do?” I frowned, hoping he’d elaborate.

“I was there.”

Okaaay…not at all what I expected. I hadn’t seen or heard him. Had Logan known? My mind raced over what I’d revealed. Too many private things. “How much did you—”

“Enough.”

He knew.

My face flamed with heat. Great. Yet another guy who knew how deeply I felt about him. That knowledge changed the game for guys. Shredded hopes for girls.

“He’s a motherf*cking *.”

I blinked. Clearly we weren’t talking about the same thing. “Who, Trevor?”

“Maybe Trevor, too.”

Confused, my brow wrinkled.

“Kyle.” He bit out the name.

It stung my ears. Like it always had. Then I winced, realizing he’d heard plenty.

Before I processed the movement, Darren collided into me, arms wrapping behind my hips in a gentle hold. “Not all guys are like that.”

“No?” My cheek pressed against his solid chest as I breathed out the question.

“No.” His tone held finality as his arms tightened.

Several heartbeats later, when he eased his grip, I slipped my hands between us, pressing on his chest.

He only let go enough to allow me to look up into his eyes, but not to break away.

His gaze intensified. “I’m not.”

I opened my mouth to argue. That it didn’t matter. That I couldn’t take the chance. That I liked him too much…but then, if he’d heard about Kyle, he might know that my feelings ran much stronger for him than “like.”

No words came out, humiliation sucking the air from my lungs. I frowned, head tilting down until my forehead pressed to his sternum.

A gentle finger touched my chin, tilting my face upward until our gazes clashed.

He stared down at me with renewed intensity. “You will give me a chance. Us a chance.”

“I will?”

“Yes. So you’re scared. Suck it up, Flash. When you run, if you stare at the rock, you will hit the rock. Keep your eyes on the trail. What we could be is just around the bend.”

It sounded amazing—the tiny bit of unknown hope that we could be something.

Worry sank in an instant later. My brows furrowed and I opened my mouth to ask about every little thing that jammed into my brain.

His expression darkened. “No. You don’t get to shoot this down before it happens.”

I took a deep breath, exhaled slowly. Then began chewing on my lip.

His tight embrace—his entire essence—was unwavering. And I liked being in his arms. It felt warm there, strong, safe.

I wanted to believe. The little girl somewhere deep inside me—the one who hadn’t become jaded—wanted to believe there was a good guy for her.

“Say it. Say you’ll give us a chance.”

I tried to visualize what that might be like, but failed. “I don’t know what that means.”

“You don’t have to.”

“That makes no sense.”

“Not everything does, Kiki.”

And still, my brain shut down at the idea.

“Remember the first trail run I took you on?”

A smile tugged at my lips. “Yes.” That, I could visualize.

“Do you also remember hanging by a branch, almost falling into a ravine?”

My stomach clenched as I remembered that harrowing moment. I gave him a short nod.

“Then what happened?”

“You said I was almost there. To trust you.”

“I’m telling you to trust me again.” His eyes narrowed. “You’re hanging by the branch again, afraid to let go. I’m asking you to let go. I won’t let you get hurt.”

“You can’t promise that.” Love and hurt went hand in hand.

For the first time since I’d returned home tonight, amusement lit his eyes. His lips twisted into a smirk. “I can promise whatever happens will be worth the pain.”

I slapped his chest. “Confident much?”

He didn’t relinquish his iron hold. “I’m serious. Say it.”