Bait (Wake, #1)(86)

Then she shoved me back with them. At first weakly, then she came at me again.

I stood up, taking her with me grabbing her with my hands. My shaky fingers wrapping easily around her small wrists.

Her nostrils flared and her breasts rose and fell in fast succession. The white lace of her dress raised and lowered with each hit of air her lungs stole from the room. She stared at me. Her eyes clear and so resolute.

“Fine,” I let her go. “Hit me. Blake, kick me out! You've always been good at that. Go ahead. Get mad. That's all you, but you're not fighting me.” I stepped back feeling my own temper rear its head again. Like a tidal wave every time my mouth moved, I couldn't hold any of it back anymore.

What was the point?

“You're. Fighting. You,” I said slowly. And I punctuated it with my finger in her chest. Not hard enough to move her, but enough for her to feel me and know I was going to fight back. “You f*cking love me. Not him!” I shouted.

“It's too much!” she yelled. “Oh, God what have I done?”

“It's not too late. Make this stop. Be mine. Be all mine.” She came to me, a ray of hope shot up my spine, making me stand taller.

She wrapped her arms around my waist so tightly, crashing her cheek to my chest. “I'll always be yours. I can't help it. But it can't. I can't stop all of this now.”

I arched my back, and cupped her cheeks angling them up at me and spoke as calmly as I possibly could, the emotion of this whole thing finally hitting me in the stomach. “Yes, you can. I'm right here. Call someone. Call Reggie.” I leaned down to her face. “Please tell them. Tell them that you're calling it off.”

I reached for my phone in my pocket. “You can,” I urged.

She looked at it in my open hand and then back to my eyes. It was like watching my heart get hit around a court during a live or die tennis match. Love serving love.

“Call your dad, Blake. Tell him you choose me. Choose me.” I trembled under the weight of my phone. “Fuck it. I'll call him myself. You want me to fight for you? That's what you want?” Her eyes over flowed again, her lip quivered before she steadied it with her teeth. “Because I'm two f*cking seconds away from picking you up and carrying you out of here. Fuck everyone else. I want you. I love you.”

She pulled back, stepping on the train of her dress and almost stumbling before catching herself. “Don't. Don't.” She was the one pointing at me now. “Don't you say that. Not now! How could you? How could you love me? I'm marrying Grant.” Her body was covered in lace and her face wore regret.

“You're not marrying him. Not today,” I stated.

“Yes, I am.” She straightened, her stubborn will rebounding. “Why now do you want me so badly? You didn't care before. Now that I'm getting married, all of the sudden you love me?!” Her voice escalated. “You're making me crazy!”

“I always wanted you. I've loved you the whole time. It's you! Why don't you love me? Huh?” My shoulders hunched forward, I wasn't cut out for fighting like that, and I liked it more when we were fighting about sleeping in the same room and not answering messages. I didn't like this. It felt different.

It felt final.

My voice lowered as I tried to calm myself, but my fist shook, in front of me, in her direction.

“What is it that you get from him that you won't let me give you?”

She fell back down on the chair she was sitting on, her hands held together on her lap. She looked up at me and said, “Forever, Casey. He'll give me his forever.”

“I'll give you more than that.”

“You say that, but we did…we met in a bar. I'm just a game. You only want the chase. You'd leave me.”

“I wouldn't.” Thinking back over our history, I realized, she had every right to think that. And I f*cking hated it.

“Grant won't leave me. I can't picture a life with you where you won't get sick of this, of me. You'll get bored.” She sighed like she had let something out that she'd been struggling to hold on to.

I looked at my feet. I'd worn nice clothes, in the event that I was watching a wedding I wished never happened. I looked at those f*cking black dress shoes.

I said, “You're so wrong. I love you so much that I hate you. You're so f*cking blind. You're a fool.” I wrung my hands.

“Yeah, well f*ck you.” And she meant it. She'd never said that to me. She was either doing her best to make me leave, or she was testing my fight. “See? This is how it is, Casey. This is how it ends. Just like I always knew it would.”

In a rush I lifted her by her arms and I kissed her. If that was it, I was getting one last taste.

When I'd poured everything I had into that one kiss, I felt her tremble and melt into it. Then she went rigid and shut me out.

“Oh, this isn't the end, you liar. You can kick me out of this house. You can try to avoid me all you want. But I'm in here.” I touched her head and stepped back, still holding tight to one arm. “And I'm in here,” I place my hand over her heart.

“Casey.”

There it was, my final argument. I didn't hold back, terrified it still wouldn't be enough.

“The scared part of you might marry him today. But the brave fighter in here—she's mine. She always will be. Love doesn't give a f*ck about a piece of paper. When are you going to realize that this isn't just love? There isn't even a word for this.” My hand moved from her heart to mine, and I pressed my palm into myself. “Blake, I know you better than you give me credit for. So straighten up your white gown, fix your makeup and hair and put on a happy, phony forever face. I hope that you have to pretend it's me to walk down the aisle. I hope every time you blink tears away today you see me.”