His mouth falls open and I can see the exact moment it registers in his brain.
“Come on. I don’t have all day.” I yank his arm, and he staggers to his feet, then leans against the counter to steady himself.
Once I’m sure he won’t fall, I let go, dusting myself off like I can get rid of the way he makes my skin shiver.
“Sunny. The one that got away.” He flashes me a playful smirk.
My heart lurches on the tender nickname I never thought I’d hear again. After all these years, how can he still wreck my heart with one little word?
Is it too late to hit him again?
Chapter 5
Sean
Thatwasnotsupposedto sound like a line. I’m not a teenage idiot. I’m a grown idiot. There should be a difference.
I can’t stop myself from drinking her in. Her big brown eyes and long dark hair, both a direct contrast to the bright pink apron dusted with frosting and flour. There’s a splotch of flour on the end of her nose and it’s adorable. She’s not wearing her prosthetic right now which is unfortunate. My favorite part of each day was discovering which new sticker she chose to wear. She must have gone through thousands. I wonder if she still keeps up that tradition. She’s changed so much, yet somehow not at all.
“I mean, London,” I say, caressing her name with the gentleness I should have used earlier. “How are you?”
She narrows her eyes and inches toward that rolling pin again.
I shake off my cloak and drop it over the rolling pin on the ground. But as soon as the thick robe is off, the gaping wound on my back catches air.
I clench my teeth, hissing with the pain, and reach for the edge of my shirt, studying the ground instead of the woman I know hates me. I don’t blame her. She’s only going to hate me more for this mess I caused. How much did I break? There’s shattered glass and desserts everywhere, marring the bright pink-and-yellow bakery.
“What are you doing?” London bites out.
I get my shirt over my head, and my hand goes to my back. I don’t feel anything sticking out of it but it’s hard to tell with all the blood. I drop my hands and look at her.
Her face drains of color.
“Is that blood?” her voice falters, and so does her body.
Her knees buckle, and I rush forward to grab her a split second before she faints. She collapses right into my arms.
Well, this is quite the turn of events. I’ve always wanted to hold her, never thought it would be like this.
Ding.
The front door opens and a happy couple walks in. Horror fills the woman's face and she screams.
“We’re closed.” I offer halfheartedly.
They scoot toward the door, watching me with wary eyes. A shirtless bleeding man holding a passed-out woman in a pile of glass. What’s to be concerned about?
I watch them go, figuring I’ve got about five minutes until the cops arrive.
My back is killing but that doesn’t matter. I shift until I can pick London up then stagger deeper into the bakery. She must have a chair or something around here. I find an office door propped open. But all that’s inside is a laptop on a pile of boxes.
London is pretty light and the big box is thicker than the average Amazon delivery. I test the sturdiness with my foot before gently laying her on top of it and scooting the laptop onto the floor. Did she just start this business? Despite the fact that this woman is going to wake up and probably hit me again, I find myself wanting to know everything she’s been up to for the last seven years.
Sunny. I still can’t believe it. How has she changed? Is she still the girl I fell for in high school? More importantly, does she still hate me? After she went to that dance with my brother, she never spoke to me again. She purposely avoided me. And I, like a coward, avoided her as well.
Her body jolts, and I grab her before she falls off the makeshift desk.
“Sean?” she mutters, blinking against the harsh fluorescent light.
