He came after me.
The thought warms me from the inside out, and my hand is shaking just a little as I put my glass on the coffee table.
“I’ve gotta go,” I tell Brandi.
“Why. Where are you going?”
“He came after me once,” I say, standing up, already moving toward my purse. “Time for me to go after him.”
Chapter 43
Reece
Okay, guys, I don’t mean to rush you here, but keep up, because sometimes a dude’s mind is super simple and works exactly like this.
It took me about five minutes after Lucy let me go the last time to know that I wanted her back.
It took me nine days to figure out how the fuck to do it.
You want a long drawn-out story of how I realized it? It was as simple as seeing that car’s fucking taillights drive away from me and realizing I wanted to die. Realizing that I’d risk all the world’s heartache, risk her leaving eventually, if it meant I’d get to hold her for just five minutes more.
I lift my hand to knock on Lucy’s door, then drop my arm again, wiping my damp palm against my jeans.
This plan didn’t seem nearly so terrifying when I talked it over with Craig.
Show up. Tell her how you feel. Hope like hell she feels the same way.
Easy.
And…I think I’m going to barf.
I take a deep breath and lift my hand again, refusing to let myself chicken out the way I’ve been doing for the past six years.
Lucy Hawkins was my girl. Now she’s my woman. And I’m her man.
She’d better start getting used to the idea.
The door opens before my knuckles can make contact, and I have only a second to register movement before her small body hurls into my chest.
“Oh,” she says on an exhale, taking a quick step back. “I’m so sorr— Reece?”
For a moment, I can only stare. She’s so…Lucy. Tight-fitting black shirt, white skirt, flip-flops, hair in a messy knot on top of her head.
She’s beautiful. So damn beautiful I can’t breathe.
“Hi.”
She blinks, then her eyebrows go up at the exact moment she plants a hand on her hip. “Hi?”
I swallow. Shit. Craig said it would get easier once I got started. Fucking liar.
I swallow again and fist my hands to keep from pulling her toward me, resisting the urge to tell her how I feel with a kiss instead of words.
She deserves the words. She deserves all of it.
“Can I come in?” I ask.
“Um.”