Hell, hell, hell.
What I knew without a doubt had to be a finger came up to the top of my ear, curling around the shell so lightly it almost tickled. “You told me you forgave me,” he accused me in that same tissue-paper voice.
I could do this. I could handle it. “I do forgive you, Rip. I get that people say things they regret later on.”
His expression got cloudy. “I do regret what I said, but you’re missing the part where I told you I didn’t mean it. I said I was sorry I didn’t tell you from the beginning I knew about your family.”
He did mean it. Everything had some kind of root of truth beneath it. Everything.
And even if this didn’t…. that didn’t change the fact that I didn’t want to go through something like this again. Not ever. Not with him.
That light little touch moved over the shell of my ear again, making that tingle start at the base of my spine. Warm breath washed over my forehead as he curled into me even more. “Whatever the hell you might think, you’re the last person I would ever want to hurt. Why are you fighting this?” he asked, sweeping his finger again over my ear and dragging it across the studs at my earlobe.
I could be strong. I could be brave. I could do this. “I’m not… fighting it. I’m just being real. I don’t want you to waste your time—”
“You’re never a waste of my time.”
Where was this coming from? “Rip—”
This mountain of a man took his other hand off my back and settled it on my throat, managing to cup it between his hands before I realized what he was doing. Lucas Ripley dipped his face even closer to mine… so close I tried to move backward so I could get a good look at him, but he didn’t let that happen. He brought his mouth, his face, his eyes, some of the things I liked the most about him, inches from me. His mouth a lunge away…
What the hell was I doing thinking about that? Jeez.
“You haven’t listened to a single fucking thing I’ve said, have you? Seen a single thing I’ve done? You the only person who hasn’t put shit together?”
I breathed in through my nose and heard it rattle right out of me.
“I don’t know how to give you flowery words and shit like that, Luna. I don’t know how to tell you what you want or need to hear. It’s been a long fucking time since I’ve given a fuck about anybody. Do you understand that?”
I could do this. I could—
“I don’t like the idea of you sitting next to some random asshole who wants to get in your pants.”
And that wasn’t at all what I was expecting him to say.
“What?” I didn’t mean to whisper.
His finger came up, and the pad of his thumb dragged across my cheekbone. “Don’t like the idea of you going on a date with somebody.” The pad moved back the way it had come, and he said low, “Can’t fucking stand it. Just when I thought I couldn’t get more pissed…”
He…
He…
Was… jealous?
“I get that I fucked up, and I’m sorry. I didn’t want you to know about me being a Reaper. Wasn’t sure I ever wanted you to know about me being in a club like that. You said you grew up in San Antonio. The club had a bad rep there, but I got out of it. I’m sorry I didn’t fucking tell you that night in your bed when you said something, but like you said, that shit’s on me. But I want it back anyway.”
Like an idiot, I asked, “What do you want back?”
“I want my goddamn Luna back,” he breathed, stealing the air from my lungs. “I don’t want you to leave me alone. I want you bugging my ass for random shit again. I wanna see your fucking face first thing in the morning, even if you don’t bring me my coffee anymore. I wanna make you something to eat so you don’t end up with Salmonella from that shit you try to cook,” he said in this strangely calm voice that seemed like the opposite of what someone using a jackhammer on my entire existence would have been.
And he told me carefully, too carefully, “Two fucking weeks and I want it back. You gave me these pieces of you I know you haven’t given to anybody else, and they’re mine. You can’t take ’em back. I need them more than you do, you hear me?”
I took a breath in through my nose, ignoring that thing bubbling and living under and inside of me. But as I stood there, watching him, the distrust running so fiercely through me as my brain called out liar, liar, freaking liar, something big and hard formed in my chest. This knot. This… prediction. I wasn’t sure what it was going to be of, but it was going to be something… something I wasn’t positive I was ready to handle after all.
The hands on my throat slid down to cup my shoulders, and it was his turn to let out a deep breath. “I know I fucked up, and I can tell you’re not gonna make this easy on me, and I get it. But I want you to eat a burger with me in the meantime, yeah? Get some ice cream with me. You promised the day of the wreck. Remember?”
Of course I remembered. How could I forget?
Rip took a step back, and I still didn’t say anything.
He took another step and, still, nothing.
Then another and another, until he stopped right before the door and gave me an intent look as he said, “Let’s go eat a fucking burger and some ice cream, baby girl. There’s nothing for you to be scared of. You can trust me.”
I wasn’t sure about all of that. I wasn’t even sure about part of it, especially the part of my head that needed to make rational decisions.
But I had never been one to hold grudges. That wasn’t what this had been about in the first place.
And… I wanted to believe him. I wanted to believe him so bad it burned my throat and everything else south of the border. I wanted to trust myself even though I wasn’t sure I could.
But this need in me to try, to believe, burned the brightest flame in my chest. In all of me, really.
Trust him?
“I got you,” he said with so much conviction there was no way to ignore it.
When we went to go eat a burger and two ice cream cones a few minutes later, I wasn’t sure how I felt.
What I did know was him telling me to trust him was on repeat in my head the rest of the night.
Chapter 29
The following morning, I didn’t drop my stuff on the floor when I went into my room and found another flower sitting on my desk. This time, it was a purple rose—a pale lavender that was almost white but just barely not—with a lacy white ribbon tied around it. It was beautiful. Honestly, just freaking beautiful.
But was it there because of guilt?
Or was it because of the things he’d said last night? The things I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about since we’d sat across from each other eating burgers and splitting an order of fries. The things he’d said that lit up a part of me that was scary. That gave me too much hope.
He wanted his Luna back.
His.
In what way though?
And why did I want that more than anything even though I’d told myself before I had fallen asleep all alone in my bed last night that it was dangerous and stupid and way too risky… because it was. It really was all of those things.
Don’t be dumb, I tried to tell myself as I put my bag into the right drawer, still looking at the rose. It was perfect. There wasn’t a single blemish on any petal. The tips had a slightly darker shade of purple on them.
It was just as beautiful as the one from yesterday, sitting there alone in its jar.
My hand felt unsteady as I picked it up, took a whiff of it, tried my best to ignore the way my heart started speeding up, and then set it in the jar beside the orange one.
It was just a flower. The second of my life. Bought out of guilt or just because Rip had lost his mind and gone delusional, imagining things that he had no business sharing with me.
But…
You know what? If he wanted to keep buying me flowers, fine. I was still going to tell him he didn’t need to, because he didn’t.