Bitter Sweet Heart (Lies, Hearts & Truths #2)(77)

I’m on the fence about telling him what happened, worried about his reaction, but feeling very much like I could use his support. If there wasn’t a flight between us, I’d want to go to him right now. As it is, my heart skips like a scratched record when his face appears on the screen. “I’m sorry for the cryptic messages, but there were some issues.” I check to make sure my door is locked. I’ve been paranoid over the last two days, worried Gabriel is going to show up again.

“What kind of issues? What’s going on that all I got was radio silence for almost three days?” He rubs his bottom lip, and while his voice is even, I can see the hurt in his eyes.

“Can we talk about it when I see you?” I start biting my nail but realize they’re going to be stubs if I’m not careful.

“Is this going to be one of those situations where you want to see me so you can tell me we’re done?” he asks softly.

“No! That’s not—I don’t want to upset you.” Of course that’s where his head has gone. It’s where mine would go if I received the same message from him.

“Hey. What happened that’s got you so rattled?”

I bite the inside of my cheek, knowing I can’t keep this from him. “You’re not going to like this.”

“I’m going to like not knowing less,” he counters.

“Gabriel showed up at my parents’ place on Christmas Day, and he invited himself to stay for dinner.” I feel like now would be a good time for Maverick to teach me how to make those origami cranes.

He nods somberly. “Yeah. You’re right. I’m not happy about that. What was he doing in Florida?” He cracks his jaw. “Should I be worried?” He taps his lips, clearly stressed by the situation. I don’t want to make that worse for him.

“His parents live here, and he was visiting them for the holidays. And no, I don’t think you need to be worried. I’m just . . . frustrated and paranoid. I want to see you for New Year’s, but I’m concerned he’s going to show up at my house back in Chicago.”

He nods slowly. “Then why don’t we go to your place in Pearl Bay?”

“They don’t plow my road very often in the winter.”

“What about snowmobile access? Could we get in that way?”

“I think so, but I don’t have one.”

“I do. Can you give me the address? I’ll get everything ready. And I can even pick you up at the airport.”

I hesitate. “It’s a lot of driving for you.”

“I’d drive halfway across the country for a night with you at this point. Back and forth to the airport is nothing.”

My heart skips a beat and warmth floods my body. This feels so much better than the mind games Gabriel plays. “Okay. New Year’s in Pearl Bay it is.”





Twenty-Seven





All the Ways to Fall





Clover





I’m a mess on the flight home, even though I changed it so I fly into Milwaukee instead of Chicago, which will put me closer to my cabin on Pearl Bay. My paranoia is ridiculously high, and I’m afraid Gabriel somehow managed to get my flight information and is going to show up at the airport.

My stomach is a twisted knot when I get off the plane and text Maverick that I’ve landed. As soon as I have my bag, I head for the exit, scanning the area, still worried that Gabriel is going to show up and ruin my plans.

I’d been struggling with what I should do before he showed up at my parents’ place, but once he came in and turned my holidays upside down, I decided I’d had enough of playing by everyone else’s rules.

I want what I want. And that’s Maverick.

If all I can have is a few months, I’ll take it and not regret it.

My breath catches when I see him walking toward me. He’s wearing a peacoat, black dress pants, and a white button-down. His shoes clip across the tiles, the floor gritty with salt and wet from snow.

He’s refined, put together, and gorgeous. He doesn’t look like a college student. He looks delicious. And I’m standing here in a pair of leggings, an oversized sweatshirt—I almost wore his hockey one on the plane—and my hair in a messy ponytail.

He stops when the tips of our shoes touch—his black and polished, mine scuffed—and his eyes take me in with a hot sweep. “How do you feel about PDA?”

“What?”

“Public displays of affection. Are you for or against them?”

“Most of the time or right now?”

“Right now.”

I glance around, reminding myself that we’re not in Chicago and no one here knows us or that up until a few weeks ago, I was his professor. “Right now, I feel reasonably good about them.”

He grins, that dimple in his left cheek appearing. “I was hoping you’d say that.” He cups my face in his palms and covers my mouth with his. I grip the lapels of his coat and sink into the kiss. One hand leaves my face and pulls my hood up to shield me, and the other drifts down my arm and wraps around my waist. He pulls me tighter against him and angles his head to the side, deepening the kiss for several mind-bending strokes of tongue.

When he finally breaks away, he holds the edges of my hood and backs up only enough that his beautiful face is clear. “I missed you more than I wanted to,” he admits.