Exes and O's (The Influencer, #2)(62)
I stay silent, trying to avoid spooking him with any given reaction.
“I’d ask him for advice on girls and money. He was a cheap bastard too. That’s where I learned it.” He chuckles softly. “After a few months, I forgave him for being a shit dad. And then he moved for another job and it kind of felt like the first time he left, all over again. But it was almost worse, because I blamed myself. I didn’t understand why I wasn’t good enough for him to stick around.”
Instinctively, I place my hand on his forearm. When his muscles clench under my touch, I remove it. “Him leaving had nothing to do with you.”
His hard eyes search mine. “You either.” Without explaining, I know he’s referring to Seth.
I unzip my coat, my neck prickling with beads of sweat. “Do you still talk to your dad?” I ask, shifting the spotlight back to him.
He rakes a tired hand through his hair. “I hear from him every now and then. But haven’t seen him in years. Logan is exactly like him. Not proactive. Doesn’t really bother unless it’s convenient.” I’m silent for a few beats, just letting it all sink in when he nudges me. “Now do you see why I don’t do relationships?”
“Is that why you broke up with Kyla?”
He picks at a tiny leather tear on the bench. “I guess so. We dated for over a year when I came back to Boston after dropping out of college. I broke things off when Angie’s health got really bad. The thought of losing Angie was so fucking terrifying. I wasn’t in any shape to be there for anyone else. You probably think that’s ridiculous, huh?”
“No. It’s not ridiculous at all,” I assure him.
His grief makes my heart ache. I think I finally understand the glaring difference between us. The difference that renders us entirely unmatchable. While Trevor and I are both wounded by abandonment—him more severely—we handle it in opposite ways. He’s locked his heart entirely. It’s hidden behind an impenetrable fortress, surrounded by shark-infested waters. On the other hand, I’ve left my heart wide open, a gaping, only partially healed hole. And to be honest, I’m not sure which tactic is more advisable.
“I still think you should give Kyla another chance,” I say. “Hey, didn’t you two plan to have drinks soon?”
Before he can respond, the elevator dings, swinging open. Six people in various shades of black and gray wool winterwear filter out. I’m immediately drawn to a familiar face in the back.
Partially blocked by a Hulk-size man’s massive shoulder is Daniel. My long-lost childhood love.
I haven’t laid eyes on this face since he was a prepubescent teen, but I’d know those glass-cutting cheekbones anywhere. He still has that dark, silky hair and ever-so-serious expression. But he’s gotten broader. His neck is thicker. His shoulders are wider underneath his black jacket and brown corduroys. Adult Daniel could surely handle himself in a boardroom of high-powered executives, return home at a reasonable hour, roll the sleeves of his dress shirt (exposing his veiny forearms), and dutifully assist his wife with the children’s nighttime routine.
While I’ve missed him terribly, coming face-to-face doesn’t give me any sense of comfort. Quite the opposite, in fact. My body goes into flight mode as he heads for the turnstile directly across from us.
Panicked, I let out a hacking, dry cough as he stops to pull his building pass from the front flap of his messenger bag. Before he goes to scan it, I whip my head toward Trevor’s chest, shielding my face with my hands. “Shit balls. He’s coming this way! He’s gonna see me.” For once, I’m not overexaggerating. This bench is diagonal from the turnstiles. There’s absolutely no hiding.
“Isn’t that the point?” Trevor whispers.
“I didn’t actually think he’d be here! Hide me!” I’m about to curl into a ball or hide under my own coat like a coward when Trevor clasps a hand around the back of my neck. His grip is firm and demanding, but not aggressively so.
There’s a fire in his eyes as they search mine. It’s like he’s asking for silent permission. I have no idea what for, and frankly, I don’t care.
I’m in, my blazing eyes tell him.
He receives my silent cue and conceals me completely.
With his face.
? chapter twenty-one
WHEN TREVOR’S SOFT, pillowy lips settle against mine, my soul exits my body.
Nothing can resuscitate me. Here lies Tara Li Chen. At least I had a decent life.
Trevor Metcalfe is kissing me. He. Is. Kissing. Me. There is nothing else. There is no life, no reality outside the confines of this bench. Daniel who?
His hands are strong and urgent on either side of my head. He does something with his thumb, like a mini massage against my temple. It’s such a small thing, but it feels like affection. It brings me to life.
My previously motionless lips traitorously follow his lead. His tongue sweeps across my bottom lip and melds against mine so expertly, I force my eyes open momentarily to confirm that this is real. This is happening. My hands slink up his muscled shoulders and through his soft, thick hair. With both hands, I pull his face closer to mine a little more aggressively than intended.
When his low groan vibrates into my mouth, my body descends into chaos. Blood courses through me like a riptide. My heart is thrashing so hard, I’m convinced someone has broadcasted the audio over the building’s PA system.