Living Out Loud (Austen, #3)(75)

Her sadness shifted to furious accusation. “That’s bullshit, and you know it. Because I don’t think this is about him so much as it’s about you.”

My breath kicked out of my lungs. “That is not what this is about.”

“You’re a goddamn liar. You would have found any excuse to kick him out and keep me here. You would have found any reason to keep me away from him. Well, it’s over now. Are you happy? Are you fucking happy?” Her voice broke, her face bent and shining with tears.

I rushed her, grabbing her arms, pulling her into me, desperate and overcome and frustrated beyond measure. “You don’t understand, not what you want, not what he wants from you, and not how I feel.” My breath trembled, my eyes searching the depths of her emerald irises, the ring of gold flashing. “You don’t see that he was hurting you, chipping away at you sliver by sliver. You don’t see that I”—need, desire, love—“want you. You can’t see it, even when it’s right in front of you.”

Her face softened with understanding and surprise, her lips parted, as if a thousand words waited somewhere just beyond her tongue, her hands on my chest and chin tipped up. And I felt myself leaning, felt her weight in my arms, felt her breath on my lips.

And I let her go. God knew how, but I let her go.

One step back wasn’t enough, and it was too much.

I turned and rushed out of the back and into the store, empty of everyone but Beau. When he looked up, I tossed my keys to him.

“Lock it up.”

He frowned as he caught them. “Shit, man, I have a date.”

“It’ll have to wait.”

“Where are you going?” he called after me.

“Anywhere but here.”

I pulled open the door, welcoming the chill, hoping it would cool my anger.

With every step, I knew I was just as wrong as I was right. With every footfall, I pictured her face, etched with pain by my own hand. I’d left her there alone. I’d treated her unfairly.

It only took a block before I came to a stop in the middle of the sidewalk.

It wasn’t that I hadn’t been justified, but I’d been harder, crueler than I had to be. I could have let her go. I could have dealt with the whole thing tomorrow. And she was right; if it had been anyone but her, I would have handled it differently.

But it was Annie, and where she was concerned, I found I couldn’t be rational.

I turned around with a sigh and headed back to the store, my anger ebbed to expose the shores of guilt. When I reached the door, I found it still unlocked, though the store was abandoned, everyone gone except Beau. I didn’t see him, but I could hear him whistling.

My goal was singular.

Past the bar I went, past the hall where the office was and into the back of the building.

I found her in nearly the same spot as I’d left her, sitting on a stack of empty crates with her face buried in her hands and her soft sobs echoing off the concrete walls.

Annie looked up at the noise of my footfalls, almost immediately looking away, like she’d just been readying herself to leave. She swiped at her tears and sniffled, her eyes down.

And with a bruised and bloodied heart, I dropped to my knees in front of her and took her hands in mine, meeting her eyes with remorse and repentance.

“Annie, I’m sorry.”

Her chin quivered, the weakly tamped tears springing from her eyes again. “No, Greg, I—”

“Please, let me apologize,” I said gently.

She nodded once.

“You’re right—I can’t be reasonable when it comes to you. And even though I had to act, I didn’t have to act like that. I have a hundred excuses, but you know them all, and none of them matter. So I’ll only beg for your forgiveness. I never wanted to hurt you; I only want your happiness. I just haven’t been able to sort out how to balance your happiness and my own.”

“Of course I forgive you,” she said, though she still cried, an unending stream that pained me to no end.

“God, please don’t cry anymore. I don’t want to make you cry anymore,” I begged, reaching for her face, tipping it so she would meet my eyes. “I’m sorry.”

She nodded again. “So am I. I…I was wrong, and I screwed up b-b-bad. I’m so sorry.”

A sob broke out of her, and I rose enough to pull her into my chest, slipping my fingers into her curls.

“Shh, it’s okay. It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not,” she said against my lapel. “I’ve ruined everything. Your friendship. My reputation.” She sniffled and pulled back. “Your coat.”

I chuckled and looked down. “It’ll survive. And so will you. And so will I.”

She tried to smile, her brows still together, but her tears were dry for the moment.

I stood. “Come on, let’s get you home. It’s almost three.”

She sighed and stood too, looking as weary and worn as I felt. “All right.”

We walked out of the back in silence, and when I stepped into the store, I stopped dead.

All the lights were off, and the metal gate in front of the door was down.

“No, no, no, no. NO,” I muttered as I hurried to the door to make sure that, against all odds, I wasn’t seeing what I was seeing.

Once confirmed, I turned to Annie with numb hands.