“You didn’t seem to mind a closet before, as I recall-”
I smacked his chest with two hands, intending to push him back. But he was like a brick wall, and it backfired. He grabbed my wrists.
“I came back for you.”
His words made me still, the need and urgency in his voice silencing all of my fury and anger and even my fluttering heart.
But then it all returned with a vengeance.
His words would’ve meant more a few years ago. Back when I was a confused, lost eighteen-year- old, desperate for his call, his letter, his anything.
But I wasn’t that girl anymore, and I didn’t want to fall for him all over again. No matter how well he filled out his clothes, no matter how good he looked in his expensive suit.
I laughed, and it came out twisted and bitter. “I’m supposed to just believe that, huh?”
He leaned in, and I could feel his breath hot against my cheek. “Maybe not right away. But you will.”
“The thing is, Landon, I don’t want to believe you any more. You wrecked me when you disappeared, and I’m not willing to risk that again. No matter how convincing you can be.”
I leaned back, pulling my arms away from him, but he only held tighter, and the momentum made me crash back into his chest. The air left my lungs as my skirt swung against his legs. His pants felt smooth as silk against my bare calves, and I was suddenly short of breath.
“Please,” I said, quietly, no longer sure what I wanted, what I was asking him for.
But when he leaned down, his lips brushing against mine, I knew.
If he hadn’t been holding me up, pinning me against his chest, I would’ve fallen, my knees buckling underneath me as my eyes slammed shut. His mouth was familiar and foreign all at once, my memories crashing back into me. I could picture him like he’d been those few years back….his taut body hovering over me, just before he pressed me into the mattress, leaving me breathless.
And then suddenly he pulled back abruptly, leaving me short of breath and feeling empty. The past and the present had merged for a short time, leaving me confused now that I was firmly in the now once more.
I opened my eyes, confused, and then blinked against the light.
Wait.
The light? Someone had turned on the overhead bulb.
I spun around, taking in a strange man standing at the door, one hand still on the knob. The closet light shone over his head, illuminating his bright hazel eyes and dirty blonde hair. He grinned, his eyes sparkling as he stared past me, right at Landon. “Landon, buddy, not this again…” he said, waggling a finger at Landon. “Didn’t I tell you before, there are these places called hotels you can get when you want to do your business?”
“Rylan,” Landon said, his voice low with warning.
“One of these days, maybe I’ll learn to stop following you into darkened rooms…or maybe you’ll get some common sense and take your business somewhere a bit more private.” Rylan’s grin widened and he spun on his heel, slamming the door shut once again.
His meaning was clear, and I felt dirty. Used.
And stupid. Landon hadn’t changed. He was the same guy who’d left me behind all those years before. Maybe worse, because he was old enough to know better. I turned around and shoved him, hard. “Same old, same old, huh?”
“Taryn-”
“I don’t want to hear it. Consider this a temporary lapse of judgment on my part.”
“Listen—”
“And it won’t happen again,” I said, meaning it this time.
I strode away, slamming the closet door behind me and leaving him behind.
Twenty minutes later I pushed my way through the creaky front door of my house, angrily kicking off my borrowed silver heels. “Matt!” I hollered, shoving the bolt on the door and stomping across the living room.
“Matt!” My voice was screechy, so high-pitched only dogs could hear it. I was boiling over, too angry that I’d been blindsided by Landon and his stupid fucking charm.
“What?” my brother said, stepping out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on a washcloth. “You don’t have to yell. Sheesh.”
“You knew!”
He leaned on the doorframe, acting casual in a way that didn’t quite feel genuine. “Knew what?”
“That Landon was in town.”
“So?” He tossed the washcloth at me, and I barely managed to grab it out of the air before it hit me in the face.
“So why didn’t you tell me?” I asked, whipping the cloth back at him.
“Why would I tell you? It’s not like you keep me apprised of Annie’s every move. He’s my friend, not yours.” He folded the washcloth, too casually, and retreated back into the kitchen.
I followed, like a hunter following her retreating prey. I needed answers. I needed… something. “But it’s not like that, with us.”
“How are we different?” he asked.
I swallowed. I’d meant Landon and me when I’d said us, not me and Matt. “You barely even know Annie. It’s different with me and Landon. You know that.”