Watch Me Fall (Ross Siblings, #5)

She’d felt a little better before that phone call, though. Hopefully, her friends wouldn’t start playing matchmaker for her. Janelle should know better than that. What the fuck was wrong with her?

Some little kids were playing in the park across the street. Two of the girls reminded her of Ashley and Mia: one blonde, one brunette, both with bouncing ponytails. She stood there a long time on the sidewalk, watching them in the blue-gold evening sunlight while the breeze played with tendrils of her hair. The girls spun on the merry-go-round; they climbed the monkey bars and played tag. Their moms—or so she assumed—sat on a bench nearby, talking and laughing and sipping from Starbucks cups.

As Starla walked back to the shop, her melancholy was heavier on her shoulders than it had been.

Kids, she thought. Now I can’t even fucking see kids at play. I can’t bake cookies. I can’t smoke. A softball game was on ESPN at work the other day, and I couldn’t change the channel fast enough. I look at the blue sky…and I see his eyes.

She was late by the time she reached the front door, but for a few minutes there, she hadn’t thought she would be able to go back in. The crew at Dermamania South had seen her go to pieces often enough. She refused—fucking flat-out refused—for the crew at North to witness it too.

She was fine. It would be okay. She snatched open the door.

Jared was sitting in her chair.

If Starla had been holding anything, she would have dropped it. If she hadn’t made a solemn vow to keep it together a split second ago, she would have run back out the door where it was safe. The breath seized in her lungs and almost choked her before she managed to wrench it free.

Thank God no one else in the building seemed to be paying much attention to her. Jared got up and moved toward her, his caution evident in every step, while she stood still as a statue ensnared by that endless blue. He looked incredible. Even better than she remembered, if that were possible. Beard. Snug-fitting navy T-shirt that did wonderful things for his biceps and flat abs. Jeans that were made to show off those powerful thighs. And eyes that rivaled the great blue expanse outside.

She wanted to scream, wanted to cry, wanted to die. What she did was walk past him toward her office in the back, telling him with only a glance to follow her. Wordlessly, he did.

She was going to kill Janelle. Kill her slowly.

Once in her office, she closed her door quietly, crossed her arms over her chest, and stared at the black-and-white tiles on the floor instead of him. Anywhere but at him. He was too beautiful; it hurt too much.

“I wanted to make sure you would be here,” he began, and she closed her eyes at the sound of his voice, wishing she could close her ears too. “But I was afraid if you knew I was coming, you wouldn’t be.”

Starla didn’t trust herself to speak yet.

“But I know what you’ve been through. So if you tell me to walk out and never speak to you again, I will. It’ll kill me, but I will.”

“No.” That came out fast enough. As hard as it was to stand in front of him, watching him walk away would be impossible.

His eyes softened in relief. “I miss you,” he said. “And I’m sorry.”

All the emotions she thought she’d dealt with came surging back. The embarrassment of her hasty, outraged words. How she’d aimed them at him so that they would cause the most damage. How hurt he’d looked. Yes, beneath his anger at her, she’d seen the heartbreak. She hadn’t known she held the power to make him look that way, that she had dominion over his heart to break it.

“You don’t have anything to apologize for,” she said softly.

“I do. I wish I’d handled things differently. I wish you’d stayed. I was…” He sighed and ran a hand through his soft black hair. She was momentarily fascinated by the way it caught the overhead lights. “I don’t have an excuse. I should have let myself unwind before we talked about any of it.”

“I’m sorry too,” she said, sounding so small. “I’m scared. I’m broken.”

He stepped closer, gently resting his hands on her upper arms. “You’re strong.”

“Yeah, I ran away from everything, like you said. I’m so strong.” For the first time, she dared to look up at him. At his eyes. Blue was too weak a description. They were striated with every hue from royal to denim to cobalt to lapis and every shade in between, shining all for her. Never again would she have to compare them to anyone else’s. She was ruined for all others.

“You took a leap. You believed in yourself. Everything crashed down around you, and you built something new from the ashes.”

Cherrie Lynn's books