Pieces of Us (Confessions of the Heart, #3)(4)

What answer I’d give her, I wasn’t sure.

Her face pinched in more of that honesty. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“Excuse me.” We both jumped when the cashier lifted his voice, all kinds of irritated considering the two of us were completely oblivious to anything else but standing there staring into the past.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she mumbled.

Tearing herself from that tether I could feel stretching between us, she balanced her small bag next to the card reader.

“Twenty-seven, thirty-two.”

Hand shaking, she fumbled to get a card out of her wallet. She swiped it and fidgeted like she was counting the seconds until she could make a break for it, while I stood there trying to figure out a way to get her alone.

Just for a few minutes.

I wanted to know how she was.

Who she was.

If she was happy.

“It says your card is declined.” I tore my attention from the spiral of thoughts going down in my mind and whipped it to the prick who was looking at Izzy like she’d committed some sort of felony.

Just as fast, I darted my gaze to her, catching her in the moment she was slamming those eyes closed.

Like she was expecting this result but had still been praying for a different outcome.

“Oh, I-I guess I brought the wrong card,” she stammered. She dug into the paper sack and pulled out the lipstick. “Can you take this off, please?”

Her voice lowered, embarrassment rolling off her like a disease. For the barest beat, she glanced over at me.

Hoping I hadn’t noticed the exchange.

Highly unlikely.

The cashier rolled his eyes.

Little fucker.

I had the urge to reach out and grab him by the collar. Like he was raking in the dough? I forced myself to hold back, not to say anything.

Still, that thunder in my chest was growing louder by the second.

I could feel it collecting speed, something severe gathering at the horizon of my mind.

He re-rang it. “Twenty-two, ninety.”

He ran the card again, and she was already wincing before the punk had the chance to make her feel any worse, her card clearly being rejected again.

Defeat dropped her shoulders, and there was no missing the dejection that fully took her over. Looked like she wanted to crawl under a table and disappear.

Leaning around her, I handed the cashier my card. “Put the lipstick back on.”

She whirled on me. “I don’t need any handouts.”

Pain and defiance reverberated with the words.

I shook my head, not sure what situation she’d gotten into, but whatever it was, I didn’t like it a bit.

Didn’t like any of this.

“Not a goddamned handout if I’m helping out a friend.”

A friend.

That was probably an insult, but anything else would no doubt send her raging.

“You forgot your card, remember?” I cocked my head, giving her an out.

“Maxon, please, just don’t—”

I set my hand on hers to let her know it was no big deal.

The least I could do.

But that was a mistake, too, because at the contact, a fire consumed me whole.

Fucking flames and heat and need.

Everything coming alive in an instant.

I jerked my hand away, feeling like I’d been sucked into a vortex. Tossed thirteen years back in time.

Izzy froze beneath it, drawing in a shattered breath, and the cashier had swiped my card and handed it back to me before she’d regrouped and had the chance to argue.

The girl was clearly as shaken as me.

He handed her the receipt. She grabbed it and the bag.

She barely slowed to toss a whispered, “Thank you,” over her shoulder before she was bee-lining for the double-sliding doors.

I wanted to shout out for her, beg her to wait. To give me five freaking minutes.

But Ian was relying on me. Couldn’t bail on that.

As hard as it was, I forced myself to stand there and pay for the diapers, my attention flying toward the door about fifteen times during the transaction, and I let loose just as many silent curses when she disappeared out of it.

As soon as the little prick handed me the receipt, I grabbed the box and darted after her, jumping between two old ladies pushing carts, leisurely doing their shopping in the early afternoon, dodged a few stockers hauling in boxes, and basically took the store like it was my own personal obstacle course.

I almost laughed.

My entire life had been nothing but a long string of hurdles. No finish line in sight.

Except for Izzy.

She’d been my beginning. The girl had breathed her beauty and grace and goodness into my being. Made me think I could be something better. Saw me in a way I’d never seen myself.

In the same way, she’d been my ending.

My collision.

The breaking point of who I’d been and who I’d come to be.

By the time I made it out the door, eyes hunting the parking lot, an old, beater of a car rumbled to life toward the far end of the lot. It jerked out of the spot, engine sputtering and a cloud of exhaust billowing into the air as it lurched into drive.

I struggled to peer into the distance.

To get a read on the license.

But she was gone before I could make sense of her return.

Disappearing in a haze of smoke and dust.