Unsuitable(114)

He reaches out and takes ahold of my hand, and I let him.

My skin sizzles, my whole body coming back to life after lying dormant for so long.

“Give me a chance to show you how good life can be with me now. Let me love you. Let me take care of you.”

A flash of my earlier thoughts—about what he’s been doing in all that time he’s spent away from me—cuts into my mind, making me feel cold inside.

I take my hand back from him and wrap my arms around myself again, like a protective shield.

And he doesn’t bother to hide the hurt on his face.

“What have you been doing all this time?” I ask quietly.

“I was in Greece with my parents for a little while. They’ve moved out there permanently now. Then, I traveled around a bit.”

His dark eyes haven’t strayed from mine.

But all I can see is beautiful locations and beautiful women.

Kas with other women.

“There’s been no one else,” he says softly, as though reading my thoughts. “How could there be when I was in love with you?”

Was.

“Still am in love with you.”

He steps up close and takes my face in his hands. I blink up at him. My heart somersaults in my chest. My mouth dries, and my skin is on fire where he’s touching it.

“I love you, Daisy. I’ve loved you for the last three years. I want to be with you, and I will do anything to make that happen.”

“What if I have someone else?” I step back out of his hold, and his hands drop to his sides. “You just come here, out of the blue, and say you want me back, assuming I have nobody in my life. Well, I could have a boyfriend, for all you know.”

I’m pissed that he hasn’t even asked. That he assumes that I’m so pathetic that I wouldn’t have moved on from him. That I’d still be single.

So what if it’s actually true?

The fact that he just assumes pushes my buttons.

And, honestly, I want a reaction. I want to piss him off.

Don’t ask me why because the only answer I can give is that it’s because I’m a girl. I’m confused and hurt that he’s been gone for so long. But I’m happy that he’s here. And I’m feeling every other emotion in between.

He doesn’t react. He just stares back at me and asks in a calm voice, “Is there anyone else?”

My face instantly heats because, now, I’m going to have to tell him no. He’ll know how pathetic I am, and I only have myself to blame.

Then, it registers that he didn’t react. The Kas I knew would have reacted.

Maybe he really has changed.

Or maybe…

“You didn’t ask if there was anyone else because you already know there isn’t and that there hasn’t been in all the time you’ve been gone. Am I right?”

He doesn’t even have the dignity to look ashamed.

He just steps back up to me and puts his hands on my face, where they’ve always belonged, tilting my eyes up to meet his. He stares deep into them.

“When I walked away from you, it was the hardest thing I’d ever had to do. The only thing that made it manageable was knowing that I wasn’t letting you go forever. Daisy, I might have let you go then, but I didn’t let you go far. And, honestly, if I’d gotten a whiff of another guy sniffing around, then I’d have gone back on my self-imposed promise to stay away until Jesse was eighteen, and I’d have come here, broken the guy’s face, then carried you back to my house, and never let you go.”

Well…shit.

What am I supposed to say to that? Unsure, I go with what I always go with when I’m stumped. Humor.

“Should I take it that your stalking ways are still going full force then?”

His eyes spark and grin at me.

I shake my head, fighting a smile.

I really shouldn’t smile right now. Because it’s not funny.

“Honestly, how the hell did you manage to stalk me when you weren’t even here, when you were off traveling the world?”

His brows draw together. “I didn’t say I was off traveling the world. I said, I was in Greece for a while, and then I traveled a bit.”

“And where did you travel to?”

A hint of something I don’t quite understand flickers through his eyes.

“Why do you want to know?” he asks.

“Because you’re acting like you have something to hide, and I want to know what it is.”

“Well”—he clears his throat—“I was in Greece. Then, I wasn’t…and I was here…traveling back and forth between Westcott…and London.” Even though he cleared his throat, his words still come out gravelly.

And my eyes widen to saucers. “Oh my God! You’ve been here all this time!” I step back, stunned and also hurt.