Come to Me Quietly(139)

Her voice ached with uncertainty and loss, swam with turmoil, echoed the broken girl I’d left standing in the middle of the lot screaming my name.

And it stung. This girl had been hurting just as badly as me.

But what had I expected? That she was fine? That there’d been a second’s chance that she’d moved on like I promised her she would?

I mean, damn it, there’d been no denying what I felt in her touch.

And there was no denying now how I hurt her.

Lines creased between my eyes. “How could I not?” My hand fluttered in her direction, wishing I could make every f*cking inch of space separating us disappear. “I lied to you, Aly. That night… ” I swallowed hard as my attention shot to the place where I’d left her behind before I angled it back on her. “I left knowing I could never forget you, but praying somehow you could forget me. And I know I shouldn’t be here. I know I should give you a chance to forget, but, Aly… I miss you.”



I missed her. God, I missed her.

Aly looked up at me through the hair shielding her face, the face that was all twisted in grief, soaked with tears and the scars I’d carved in her spirit.

“Aly – ”



Harshly, she shook her head, a quick command for silence. She didn’t look away from me as she slowly started up the steps. She edged to the left, and I turned to let her by. An overwhelming fear of rejection punched me in the gut when I realized I was too late.

Until she glanced up at me as she passed, her eyes imploring. Please.

On the landing, Aly fumbled with her keys and unlocked the door, left it open in invitation as she went inside. She didn’t stop when she dumped that huge-ass purse from her shoulder and onto the floor, the act rushing me with all these memories of the days I’d spent waiting for her to walk through that door. Shit. Could I be more of a fool? Because here I was, asking for the same thing I’d been asking for before, seeking out her comfort when I knew it could never be something I would deserve. What the hell did I think had changed? But something had… I felt it deep… whatever had struck me that night on the deserted road in Nevada, the night I realized I wanted to live. That I had something to live for.

Because I wanted to live for her.

I wanted it. I wanted to be with her. And I didn’t f*cking want to hide it anymore.

I hesitated at the threshold before I stepped through. Inside, the apartment was the same, but somehow it felt vacant, like I’d missed too much of what had happened behind this door in the months I’d been away.

Quietly, I latched it shut.

Aly didn’t spare me a glance as she disappeared into her room. I trailed a ways behind, not knowing what to expect. At the doorway, I paused. Twilight encroached on the room, natural light fading as the last was sucked into the night. Shadows danced and played, taunted and teased. So much had been shared between us here, things that changed lives and hearts and realities.

Aly stood at the foot of her bed, facing the window, her arms crossed over her chest, hugging herself, like she was struggling to keep herself from falling to her knees. Her shoulders jerked, and I knew she was crying as she tried to hold herself together.

Roughly, I scrubbed my palms over my face because I realized I wanted that to be me – I wanted to be the man who was strong enough to lift her up when she fell. But I was weak, f*cking inept, and I didn’t know how to make myself right when everything inside me was wrong.

Still I wanted to try. I was determined to try.

Apparently her door had long since been repaired, but not the damage I’d done. I clicked it shut behind me. I plodded across the floor and turned her dressing table chair out to face the room. I settled on it, my elbows finding my knees, my entire frame hunched over in submission.