Till Death(29)

How could we be here like none of that happened?

“What are we doing?” I blurted out.

Cole turned around slowly, one hand on the fridge door and the other empty. “Well, I was hoping we’d share another drink, talk some more.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Folding my arms across my chest, I willed my heart to slow down. “Why are you okay with this? I never answered your calls. I wouldn’t let you see me. I left town without saying a word to you. Why would you even want to see me now?”

He stared at me a moment and then closed the fridge door. “That’s a good question.”

I exhaled heavily. “And that really isn’t an answer.”

Cole walked over to where I stood, stopping a foot from me. I’d forgotten how tall he was, and I had to lift my chin to meet his stare. “I don’t know if you want to hear the answer to your question.”

It hit me then, something I really hadn’t considered but made total sense. It would explain why he’d showed up as soon as he heard I was back in town. It explained what I saw in his stare. My stomach sunk. “You . . . you pity me, don’t you? This is what tonight is about? You feel sorry for me.”

Horror and embarrassment rose swiftly. Why didn’t I figure this out the first night he stopped by? I took a step back, bumping into the counter. Once upon a time something great and damn near magical, but now we just had years, a hundred what-might-have-beens between us, pity and remorse. That was it.

A pink flush crawled up my neck and splashed across my cheeks. That look crept into those beautiful eyes. The same I’d seen before. I couldn’t deal with it. I pushed away from the counter, then hurried around it, snatching up my purse. “Thank you for dinner,” I said, not meeting his stare. “It was amazing—”

“What?” Cole barked out a short laugh. “I didn’t want to have this dinner with you because I feel sorry for you. Is that what you think tonight is about?” He thrust his hand through his messy hair. “Seriously?”

“—and I’m glad we got the chance to catch up,” I continued, swallowing down the sudden knot in the back of my throat.

His hands closed into fists at his sides. “I don’t know why you think that I had you come over for dinner because—”

“Why wouldn’t that make sense? You know what happened. God, you more than anyone know what happened,” I said, my hand tightening on my purse. “We can’t sit and eat dinner, pretend like there hasn’t been ten years between us.”

His eyes flared. “I’m not pretending that.”

“And we can’t . . .” I said, sucking in a sharp breath as my chest burned. In the back of my head, I knew I was being too hard on this situation, on him, but I couldn’t seem to stop myself. “We can’t pretend that nothing happened.”

“I do know what happened and I sure as hell am not pretending that what happened to you didn’t,” he said, lips thinning. “Fuck, Sasha. It was all I thought about for years. For years. But it is not what I think about when I see you standing in front of me. It’s not what I—”

“Don’t,” I said, hand up and voice shaking. “I need to leave. Okay? I just need to go.” Without waiting for an answer, I turned around and headed for the front of the house. He called out my name, but I kept walking.

I knew when I got home, when I had a few minutes to really think about what had happened, I was going to want to throat punch myself, but the flight response was in high gear.

The night air rushed to greet me as I stepped out onto the porch, closing the door behind me. I was halfway down the walkway when the door reopened behind me. Hell, he was fast.

“Sasha.”

I kept walking, nearly breaking into a run. I didn’t care. Not like I could be any more embarrassed than I already was. I just had to get out of there.

“Sasha, please stop.” He was only a few steps behind me. “Damn it, don’t run from me again.”

Don’t run from me again.

God, those words hurt, because they were true. That was what I was doing, and I couldn’t seem to stop myself. Grabbing the handle of the truck, I threw open the door. The dome light came on, and it immediately hit me. I staggered back from the open truck, dropping my purse. The smell. Oh God, my stomach immediately revolted. The smell was raw and metallic. Rotten. There was a loud buzzing sound. Flies. I glimpsed brown and white fur matted with red before I whipped around.

Cole stopped at my side. “What the . . .”

Bending over, I placed my hands on my knees and tried not to gag. No luck. My chest and stomach heaved.

He stepped around me and stalked up to the open door. “Holy fuck,” he grunted, and whipped around. A nanosecond later, he grasped my upper arms, forcing me up straight. “I think you need to go back into the house.”

My wide gaze met his as my knees went weak. “What is that in the truck?”

His jaw was locked down, as hard as a diamond. “Let me just get you back in the—”

“What’s in there?” I demanded.

“You don’t—”

I wrenched free, surprising him as I bolted to the right. He grabbed me, circling an arm around my waist, hauling me back against his chest. But it wasn’t quick enough. I saw. A scream rose in my throat, but shock choked it back down, silencing me.