Page 52 of She's Like the Wind

I learned to be quiet, composed…independent.

I promised myself that no one would ever accuse me of being needy. And now, after all the work I’d put in to stand on my own two feet, the only man I’d ever loved had called me a clinger.

I rose on weary legs and went into the kitchen. I poured myself a bourbon and then sat on my porch, looking out into the street through iron lace.

I saw him walk to the door and knock, and then step back, as if he sensed my presence, to look up at me.

“Naomi, let me in, baby.”

I didn’t like making a scene. There were people walking around, some local, mostly tourists. But this time I didn’t give a shit.

I ignored him.

“Baby, let me in, or I will use my key.”

For the sake of everything holy! He still had a key to my place. Well, high time he returned it.

I went inside and stood by my door. As soon as he unlocked and opened it, I barred his entrance and held my palm out. “Give me my keys.”

“Naomi—”

“Don’t make me spend the time and energy to change the locks, Gage.”

“I will give you the keys if you let me in and let me talk to you.”

I narrowed my eyes. “You have some balls.”

“Please.”

I met his gaze, mulling over his sincerity, and then stepped aside. He dropped the key in the ceramic bowl where I left mine.

I wish he weren’t here, I thought unhappily. I wish he’d given me more time, so the devastation I felt might fade.

“Say what you want to say and get out.” I stood, hands on hips.

He sat down on the couch and patted the place next to him. “Sit, baby,” he rasped. “I need to explain.”

“I don’t need your explanation, Gage. I heard you loud and clear.”

He ran a hand through his hair, frustration etched into every tense line of his body. “I didn’t mean it. Claudine was pushing, and I was trying to?—”

“Humiliate me?” I snapped. “Tell the world that I was some desperate woman who couldn’t take a hint?”

“I was trying to pushheraway,” he retorted, jaw clenched. “But yeah—I said something cruel. And I’m sorry.”

I stared at him, my arms crossed, holding myself because it was the only way I’d stay standing.

“You hurt me,” I murmured. “Not just with the words. But because I believed in you. I believed in what we were. Even when you said you couldn’t love me, I still thought—you saw me. Saw who I was.”

His eyes shone, jaw twitching. “I did, baby. I do.”

“I. Am. Not. A. Clinger.”

“I know, baby.” He kept his tone gentle. “I know. And I did see you. I still see you. I always see you. I was just too scared to admit it.”

I gave a broken laugh. “Of me?”

“Of…can you please sit down,” he said in exasperation. “I have some things to say to you.”