Meet Me Halfway

I took it, dropping my tired butt into the chair next to him and propping my feet on the bars between the legs of the table. “Oh my God, what is this?”

“Just a lemon drop.”

“Jesus, that’s good.” I took a few more sips, leaning back and closing my eyes, enjoying the sweet and sour flavors mixing with the silence of the night. Sometimes you don’t realize just how loud your surroundings are until the moment you finally have silence.

“Uh-oh.”

Eyes still closed, I mumbled out a lazy, “What?”

“Would you say your boy toy is the murdering type?”

I cracked an eye open, wondering where his line of questioning was going, but the sight of his pale face had me shooting up and whipping my head around to see where his gaze was focused.

Garrett stood on the other side of the patio fence, his face partially obscured by the night, and his fists clenched at his sides.

What in the world was he still doing here? I set my drink down, turning my body to face him. “Garrett?”

He blinked, telling me he heard me, but he didn’t tear his eyes from Nate. On the outside, he looked cool and detached, but I knew better.

“She’s not interested.”

Nate’s eyebrows shot right up his forehead, “Yeah, I’m pretty sure even fucking Pluto knows that.”

“Good.”

I put a shaky hand out to stop Nate’s continued rambling and tried not to panic. Why did I feel like I’d just been caught cheating? “What are you doing here?”

The skin around his eyes twitched as he looked at me, and something flashed across his face. It was there and gone in a blink, but I’d seen it. Hurt. “I told you I’d be here.”

Oh god. I’d thought he meant he’d see me back at the duplex, not that he’d literally wait for me to get off work. He’d been sitting around waiting, only to find me meeting up with a different guy as if I’d just disregarded his message. Fuck. My next words tumbled out of me like word vomit.

“Nate’s a friend from work.”

“Good to know. Let’s go.”

I chewed my lip. “My Jeep is here,” I said lamely.

“You’ve been drinking, you’re not driving.”

“I haven’t even finished one drink. And you drank tonight too.”

“Hours ago. You’re not driving. Harry and I will come pick it up later.” He cocked a thumb over his shoulder, “Get in the car, Madison.”

Realizing I didn’t have much of a choice unless I wanted to be thrown over his shoulder, I stood stiffly, scooting past Nate’s chair with a muttered goodbye.

“You good to go with him, Curly?” he asked quietly.

“Yeah, I’ll be okay. Thanks, Nate.”

He shot a sympathetic look my way, but he didn’t say anything else to either of us.

Garrett walked one step behind, reaching past my body to open the door to his Nova for me. I slipped in, eyeing the plastic bag of items sitting at my feet. The man had been working on the baby blanket for me while he waited for me to get off work. God, I was such an asshole.

He climbed behind the wheel, not speaking or looking my way as he buckled in and pulled out of the lot. The silence between us was deafening.

I didn’t know what to say or do. I wanted to apologize for hurting him, but he hated my apologies. The act alone would only succeed in making him angry.

I unbuckled my seatbelt the second we pulled into the driveway, determined to at least be outside when he yelled at me, but the low tenor of his voice stopped me.

“Don’t run off.”

“I’m not running, I’m just getting out. We’re here.”

“You’re unhappy.”

Wait, he was worried that I was unhappy? He was the one in the middle of a glaring contest with his windshield. “I’m not unhappy.”

“Don’t lie to me. You’re panicking because you think I’m mad at you. I can tell by your face.”

“Maybe you don’t know my face as well as you think you do because I’m fine.” Great, another person who could see through me, just what I needed.

He squeezed his hands over the wheel, knocking his head back, “Jesus fucking Christ, why are you so difficult?”

“Look, don’t yell at me, but I’m sorry for making you angry. I wasn’t ditching you for another guy or whatever it looked like. I thought your note meant you’d see me when I got home. Nate works the bar and makes me drinks sometimes to wind down, but that’s it.”

My words rushed out like lifesavers being thrown at a drowning man, sounding exactly as panicked as he’d accused me of being. But I couldn’t help it, I was desperate for him to understand that it wasn’t what it looked like. I wasn’t like that.

But they seemed to have the opposite effect. His features twisted, and he took a deep breath, holding it for several seconds before releasing it heavily. “You know, I keep waiting to have you all to myself, but every time I turn around, he’s always here with us.”

I looked around the car like an idiot. “Who’s always here?”

“Your ex.”

I flinched, “What about him?”

“I’m trying to figure out how I got rid of that son-of-a bitch, literally dunked his whiny ass in a random fucking porta-john, and yet he’s somehow still here, hanging over your shoulder.”

“Wait, you did what?”

“Why is he here?”

“What? You just said—”

“Why is he still in your head, Maddie?”

I pressed my back against the door, grasping at it like it could stabilize my heart. The heart he was currently exposing to the air. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about that fucking look on your face. Like you think it’s only a matter of time before I hurt you. Like you really thought I’d scream at you for tonight just because I was hurt.” He sighed. “Every time I think I’m getting you out of your shell, you let him put you right back.”

“I don’t know what you mean.” I slapped my hand around behind me, searching for the door handle and yanking when I found it. I needed out of this enclosed space.

It’d only opened an inch before he lunged toward me, pulling the door shut and leaning down over my face.

“When I can’t be upset without you wondering what I’ll do, you’re inviting him in here,” he jabbed his finger toward my forehead.

“When we can’t sit here and talk like a normal couple without you worrying I’m going to scream at you, you’re letting that motherfucker pull up a chair and stay. You’re seeing my actions and comparing them to his.”

I smacked his hand away, “Stop saying that. I know you’re not like him.”

“Then kick him out.”

“I have.”

“No, you haven’t. Kick. Him. Out.”

“What do you think I’ve been doing for the last five years?” I snapped.

“Stop making excuses and kick him out, Madison. Stop thinking about him, stop comparing people to him, stop giving the bastard the privilege of your time.”

“Goddammit, I’m trying!”

His face hovered only an inch above mine, both of us staring at the other, chests heaving. My eyes stung, and I sucked in a shaky breath.

“I told you I had baggage. It wasn’t some random metaphor. I like you, Garrett, more than I should, but—”

The arm across my body pulled away from the handle to grip the back of my neck, tipping my head up and allowing his eyes to rove over my face. He closed them for a split second before snapping them open, “Fuck it.”

Then he slammed his lips to mine.

There was no soft peck, no hesitation, just two forces colliding. It was as if he couldn’t take another second of not knowing how it felt to have his lips on me. As if his life depended on it.

I was frozen in shock, my hands glued to the door behind me until I felt the graze of his teeth surround my bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth. And I melted, molding to him like candle wax.

Lilian T. James's books