Jeremy held his breath, waiting for her reply. She stared at him with wide blue eyes—eyes he’d never truly forgotten, despite how much time had passed since he’d last seen them. He scanned her face, not missing the bruising on her pale throat and underneath her eye, no matter how much makeup she’d used.
Her blond hair was…out of character.
She was beautiful, of course. Nothing would ever change that. But Chelsea as a blonde was like seeing the White House painted purple. Her lips were as plump and tempting as he remembered, and the attraction between them was as strong as ever. He’d missed her more than he’d thought possible. It felt like it was just yesterday that they had gotten drunk, kissed for the first time, and ended up naked in bed together…the night before his wedding to another woman.
That had been the shittiest thing he’d ever done.
And somehow the best, too.
“You didn’t marry her?” she asked softly, swallowing hard. She winced, like it hurt to do so. It took all his control not to pull her into his arms, hug her close, and demand she let him help her with what she was going through. “I thought we both moved on.”
“How could I, after what we did?” he asked angrily. Even if it hadn’t been morally wrong, he’d realized the truth that night. It had always been Chelsea.
She gripped her arms tighter, letting out a little laugh. “You loved her. What happened that night was…” She faded off and he stiffened. If she said it was a mistake, he’d show her just how much of a mistake it wasn’t.
She sighed. “It was wonderful. But it was just a night. We both knew where your heart really belonged.”
Yeah, he had thought he’d known, too. Until he kissed Chelsea and saw just how very wrong he’d been. He ran his thumb over her jawline softly. “A man who truly loves a woman isn’t going to sleep with someone else the night before their wedding. My relationship with Mary was over the second you and I kissed.”
“Lots of things were,” she muttered, pulling free from his touch and backing up a few steps. “You shouldn’t be here, Jeremy.”
“Because your name change magically erased our connection?” he asked dryly.
“No.” She shook her head. “Because I don’t want you here. You’re part of my past—a past I have no inclination to revisit. I’m moving on. Starting fresh.”
“Funny, because right now, I can’t think of anyone else I’d rather be with, revisiting memories.” After years of searching, he’d be damned if he wanted to waste any more time playing games now that he’d finally found her again. He wasn’t that same stupid kid he’d been before—the one who had been too blind to see what he wanted until it was too late.
She shook her head, biting down on her lower lip. “Well, that sucks for you, because I’m not interested. You broke my heart before. I won’t let you do it again.”
“You broke mine, too,” he said softly—honestly—trying his best to act as unthreatening as possible. If he pushed too hard, she’d take off again. If you looked up flight risk in the dictionary, her picture would be next to the definition. “Why are you here? What are you running from?”
“Nothing,” she said quickly.
Too quickly.
“We both know that’s not true,” he said, stepping closer to her. She stiffened but stood her ground as he reached out and tugged on the lock of hair that always fell into her face. He missed her normal chestnut color. “What trouble did you get into after you left?”
“The kind that’s none of your business,” she spat back, yanking her hair out of his grasp. “It stopped being your business when you asked Mary to marry you.”
“I left her at the altar. For you.”
“Not for me,” Chelsea argued, shaking her head. “I was gone.”
“Yeah.” He stopped once their toes touched. “Guess I didn’t know just how gone you were.”
“Poor you. Go home, Jeremy.”
“I brought you some dinner. Something tells me you haven’t eaten all day, and even if you don’t want me here, you need to at least take the food.”
She shook her head, biting down on her lower lip. “Stop it.”
“Stop what?” he asked, cocking a brow.
“Taking care of me. This isn’t just like old times. Take your food, and yourself, out of here. I’m not the same girl I was back then.”
He reached out and brushed her hair out of her face. “I’m not the same boy, either. This time around, I know what I want—and I plan on getting it.”
She sucked in a breath, her cheeks flushing. “Good for you. Should I clap?”
“Why are you so angry with me?”
“I’m not angry,” she shot back. “I’m busy.”
He cast a quick glance around the inn, which was in shambles and empty except for the two of them. “Clearly.”
She pointed to the door.
“All right, all right. I’m going.” Laughing, he turned around, opening the door and stepping outside, leaving the food on the table. The second he was on her porch, she started to swing the door shut, but his deep voice made her stop what she was doing. “I’ll be seeing you soon, Chelsea.”
“Don’t count on it,” she shot back, her voice clipped. “I’ll be too busy here.”
“Curious,” he said, his tone soft.
She scoffed at him. “Haven’t you heard what happened to the cat?”
He cocked a brow. “No.”
“Curiosity killed it.”
And with that, she slammed the door in his face, locking it immediately.
But underneath the anger in her voice, he heard it. The fear that caused the slight tremor in her words. Chelsea wasn’t the type to be frightened, so if she was scared of something, or someone? He was going to get to the bottom of this.
Even if it did kill him.
Which it very well might.