Page 6 of His to Love
His hand covered mine and his fingers wrapped around my wrist. Tugging on it, he forced me to face him. “Tell me what happened. Where you went. And how you could do that to me.”
Tears burned my eyes and I quickly looked away. All the instant comfort evaporated along with the oxygen levels. “Stop this.”
“Not until you start talking.”
Overwhelmed with emotion, I glared at him, “Did you ever like me at all?” I watched the blood drain from his face.
“What the hell?”
Blood rushed to my ears and funneled my long-forgotten anger. “I loved you, and you used me. For all of it.”
His head snapped back like I had slapped him.
I felt like I had been punched in the gut. I hadn’t thought about this in years and it was too much.
Before he could respond, I pulled my hand out of his grasp, unbuckled my seatbelt, and stood up. Then I headed toward the restroom, balancing myself on the backs of the seats while I fumbled along, my breath increasing all over again.
Whoever invented planes was an asshole.
Once I was done washing my hands, I hesitated before leaving the restroom. I couldn’t sit next to him. Not anymore. If I hadn’t taken the time to fully appreciate how much Tyson had changed before, I could certainly do it when I closed my eyes. He was so much…more…than the kid I used to think I was in love with. Stronger. Darker. Sexier.
Tyson had only improved over the last ten years, and while I fixed my straying hair and saw my ruined mascara in the mirror, I felt like time had done the complete opposite to me. While living in Colorado and working on Aunt Eleanor’s farm had been fun, I now had pale age spots appearing just beneath my eyes from too much time in the sun and not enough sun protection. The same spots now speckled the backs of my hands. The hard work made calluses grow on previously spotless and regularly manicured hands and fingers. On the farm, and out in the country, manicures were pointless, and years ago I’d begun chewing my fingernails instead of trying to find a pair of clippers in one of Eleanor’s numerous junk drawers.
I was no longer the same girl he had known. I was harder, stronger too, physically, but I had only opened my heart to one man and I never wanted to risk that again.
I certainly didn’t want to do it then, either. Not with Tyson.
With a long exhale, I forced myself to open the lavatory door and head back down the aisle.
As soon as I got back to our row, I noticed the aisle seat was still open. Next to me, the snot-nosed kid kicked out his leg, almost hitting me in the shin. Tyson arched an eyebrow and gestured toward the seat. Whatever shock he had displayed earlier was gone behind a hard mask, daring me to sit next to him.
I didn’t take it.
“Excuse me,” I said to woman whose seat I had hijacked earlier. “You can have your seat back now if you’d like.”
She smiled wide, fluffed her hair, and I didn’t look at Tyson when I heard him laugh again.
I would take snot-nosed kids any day of the week over Tyson Blackwell.
They were much less terrifying.
Chapter 2
All my limbs trembled as I stood at the baggage claim. I could feel him staring at me. I should have been used to it. Those blue eyes had been on me for the last two hours, never once looking away from me.
At one point I was certain he was going to jump out of his seat, throw the kid into his vacated one, and sit next to me.
It didn’t happen. I hated that a small part of me was disappointed.
“Which luggage is yours?”
I jumped at his voice behind me and kept my eyes on the carousel. “I’ve got it.”
“Yeah, I know. Gabriella Galecki…you’ve always got everything under control, don’t you?”
Not when he was touching me, like he was doing then. His arm wrapped around my waist and he pulled me toward his chest. My back to his front…I closed my eyes and imagined the way it used to be. When I was still naïve and young and thought he hung the moon.
Those days were fantastic, but I couldn’t get lost in them again.
