But I do.
I want Easton Reed.
I want him to be all mine.
To belong to me and only me. I love him so much I physically ache. My heart burns in my chest turning to ashes. How do I let him go? How do I give up the one man who has truly ever gave a damn about me?
His gaze meets mine. I see this raw hunger in his eyes that makes my belly quiver. “I could never hate you, Wylla Mae.” He touches my cheek with his rough fingers and a shiver moves through me. His stare lingers on my lips, and I lean up to close the distance between us. My lips meet his and he doesn’t move. He goes rigid like a statue. The well of tears I was holding back breaks free and his lips finally move, tasting my tears. He kisses me. No tongue just mouth. His lips on mine.
I press into him, running my tongue over his lips, tasting him, his cigarette he smoked on the way here, and the black coffee he drank. He jerks back, pushing me away.
“Don’t,” he croaks as though he is fatally wounded. And maybe he is because I feel as though my heart has been ripped out of my chest and as though I may die right here on this spot if he walks out that door.
Raw and bloody, that’s how I picture my heart at his feet.
“Don’t leave me, East. I want…”
The pad of his finger presses to my lips, silencing me. “Don’t finish that sentence. You’re confused, but one day you’ll thank me for being a better man. I may not physically be present in your life anymore, but I’ll never be far away. I give you my word.”
My tears fall harder, my chest constricting so tight, I can’t breathe as my body violently trembles and shakes so hard my teeth rattle.
His large hand cups my cheek and I nuzzle into it craving so much more than he’s willing to give me.
“I love you, Easton Reed.”
“I know you do.” His hand falls away, stripping me bare, and all I want is for him to say it back and wrap me in his arms, promising he’ll never let me go. Those torturous lips…I can still taste them. Still feel the soft fullness of them.
He takes the final step and opens the door.
“You love me too.” I fall to my knees and the door closes. Hope blooms in my chest and dies as quickly as it budded.
East drops to his knees in front of me, pain etched on his face. Stroking my jaw, he pierces me with his gaze, and I wish he’d say to hell with it and kiss me, but he doesn’t. He drives the final blow into my gut. “I do love you. Just not the way you want me to. I’m not right for you. You’re gonna have a beautiful life, kid. The man who wins your heart will be someone worthy. Not a bastard like me.” His lips meet my forehead signaling goodbye, but I’m not ready to let go of what could be.
“Admit it, East. You think about me. You want me. You want to be with me. I thought I did something wrong, but that’s not it. You’re a fucking coward. Last night you fucked her and thought about me, didn’t you? Just say it.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about, Wylla Mae.”
“Admit it. You want me. You love me the way that I love you. Tell me you love me. Tell me you want me, East. Tell me,” I cry, grasping the hem of his shirt.
“Yeah. I want a lot of things. Doesn’t mean I can have them.” He pries my fingers loose of him and I collapse. My cheek hits the cold wooden flooring, my tears dropping steady as rain.
I watch his boots disappear out the door. He pauses and shoots me one final look over his shoulder. Lips turned down he closes his eyes and breathes hard for a beat. Then he’s gone. The door slams shut hard enough to rattle the pictures on the wall, and I crack all over like a porcelain doll who has been dropped and discarded.
I’m not sure how long I lay there in the fetal position arms wrapped around my center trying like hell to hold myself together.
After a few hours and I’ve dried my eyes and quieted my sobs, I call Darin. I need something to fill this void in my chest where my heart used to be. All I want is to forget the way Easton Reed smells like sunshine and leather. The roughness of his hands. The softness of his heart. The earthy taste of his tobacco stained lips. But most of all the way he looked at me when he walked away.
Darkness swirls inside me but his memory remains, shining bright like a beacon. But this is one storm I won’t find my way home from.
Chapter 8
Wylla Mae
Eighteen
I fasten the buckle on my white wedge sandal and do one more turn in the mirror. This is it. Graduation day. I’m officially one
step closer to college and one step out from under my mother’s roof. Mom knocks on my bedroom door then pushes it open. “Hey, sweetie. Darin is waiting downstairs. I want to get some pictures of the two of you before you go. Steven and I will meet you there of course.”