Page 113 of Too Far

A second suspended in time where we exist in an alternate universe. One where I didn’t break us and our story wasn’t over before it had a chance to begin.

She blinks, and it’s gone.

But it was there. I saw it. I fucking felt it.

I refuse to accept defeat. The moment may have passed, but I have to try.

“One minute,” I request, planting my feet wide and squaring my hips.

I’m warm and unsteady from the bourbon I’ve been nursing all night. I maintain my posture and hold the position while I await her answer.

“One minute, Josephine,” I plead. This time, I hold my breath.

Her eyes narrow, searching. If she’s considering whether I’m worthy of that minute, she should know I’m not. But I am relentless.

I’m not above begging. She’s here. Right fucking here. Within arm’s reach. Even if she’s further from being mine than she’s ever been.

I’m still holding my breath when she tips her chin and shakes her head.

“I can’t.”

The pain of her rejection doesn’t even register. I stow it away, keep it for later.

She takes a step forward: a long stride, sidestepping me in an effort to give herself a wide berth.

I fall back into the pocket, willing to stand directly in her path and take the sack.

“Josephine,” I try one more time. “One minute. You can’t even give me that?”

She hesitates. It’s a micro-movement, a barely there drag of her momentum. But it’s enough.

She peers over her shoulder, this time with tears in her eyes, and assesses me. The scowl she so often reserves for me is firmly in place.

“No, Decker. You can’t have a minute. Not now. Not ever again.”

Chapter 53

Josephine

Heatrushesthroughmeas I flee.

By the time I make it back into bed, I’m so hot and agitated that I have to kick the extra blankets off.

Despite the way my pulse pounds in my ears, I’m as quiet as I can be. I don’t want to wake either of my guys or let on to my encounter with Decker. Not until I’ve processed it.

What the fuck happened up there?

Because that was real. The emotions and whatever just passed between us—whether it was a moment of weakness or a peek at the truth I’ve been so desperate to uncover—Decker was there. Waiting for me? Hoping I’d show up?

I lie awake, huffing as adrenaline courses through me for what feels like hours.

I can’t sleep.

Can’t breathe.

I can’t do anything but envision his face: The initial hope followed by the horror in his eyes when I rejected him. The shock that slid over his features when I denied his request.

My fight-or-flight instinct kicked in once the implications of his plea hit me. Because what the fuck did he expect to happen? Did he really believe we’d hold each other for a minute? Allow ourselves sixty seconds to surrender to what we both want, but what he so unceremoniously and single-handedly destroyed?