Page 15

“Sure,” Gavin says, with a massive eye roll. “For someone who doesn’t need my help, I’ve had to save your ass twice already.”

“For someone who doesn’t want to save me, you’ve sure stepped in a lot.”

Gavin scowls and I search his face for any remnants of the boy I once knew. He’s got to still be in there somewhere.

The parking lot is dark, and he sets my food on the roof of the SUV before using his arms to cage me in between the driver’s side door and his big, strong body. My breathing comes in ragged gasps, but I’m not panting from fear.

Not even close.

“You’re not giving me much choice,” he growls. “You need to travel with a fucking bodyguard if you’re going to insist on staying here.”

There is so much that has been left unsaid between us, which is entirely my fault. He tried so hard to get in touch with me when my brother and I moved to Chicago.

More like fled.

But we needed to make a clean break given our mom was dead and our dad was in prison. Besides, I never expected to come back or see any of these people again, including Gavin.

“Looking for a new job?” I manage.

He’s so close that I can smell his soap – it’s still Irish Spring.

My breathing is more like whimpers and his proximity makes it impossible to do anything other than want him.

Young love is so hopeful and pure, not yet weathered by the storms of adulthood. It’s fast and hard because it’s fueled by naivety, but it’s just so intoxicating in its completeness.

There’s nothing like it.

When you don’t know anything about the world, it’s easy to imagine you have it in the palm of your hands and can conquer anything. I wish we could have learned together. Grown together. Figured things out together.

How many times have I imagined reuniting with him over the years?

How many times have I fantasized about what a relationship would be like – hell, what sex would be like – between us now that we’re all grown up?

How many times have I cursed myself for pushing him away when he would have been the only one to stand by me?

Countless.

Fucking countless.

And now here we are.

Together again.

Except he hates me.

“Ashley,” he murmurs, and there is so much emotion in his voice that tears burn my eyes.

“Gavin,” I whisper.

His eyes have always given him away. Even when he tries to posture, even when he tries to be brave, and even when he does everything he can to pretend he’s unaffected, I’ve always known what’s in his heart.

And there’s no mistaking the naked vulnerability in his eyes right now, the unasked questions, and the blatant need.

Screw it.

I lunge at him, throwing my arms around his neck and jumping up, trusting that he’ll catch me.

And he does.