The Weekend

by Rhyannon Byrd

  When Jase kept those beautiful blue eyes locked tight with mine as he pushed inside my body, I’d known. Known it was going to be different. That when it was over, I would be different. And I am.

  But he still hasn’t answered my question, and some of that mounting hope begins to fizzle. ‘Jase? I . . . I need to know why.’

  He holds my gaze with his hooded one, and for a moment I think he’s actually going to open up to me. But then a frown weaves its way between his dark brows, and he says, ‘We haven’t had nearly enough of each other yet.’

  Disappointment hits me so hard and fast, it takes everything I have not to flinch. I lift up on my knees in the middle of the bed, still holding the pillow against my body like a shield. ‘That’s not a reason.’ I sound baffled even to my own ears, and the last bits of hope in my chest turn to ash. ‘Being good together in bed isn’t a reason for me to . . . What? Stay with you for a week or two? Maybe three?’

  ‘Good? Christ, Em, that was the best I’ve ever had. It was fucking mind-blowing.’ He moves out of the bed, grabs his tight, black boxers off the floor, and slips them on. Then he turns toward me, crosses his arms over his broad chest, and says, ‘I’m asking you to not go back to whoever’s sofa you’ve been sleeping on, and to not get on a plane. Stay with me and write your article. Spend more time with Lola and your other friends here. Give us a chance to get our fill.’

  ‘And then what?’

  ‘We don’t have to plan out every detail,’ he says with frustration. ‘That’s not how life works.’

  The confusion in my head and my heart is killing me. Is this really how he sees the world when it comes to relationships? Fuck until he’s gotten his fill, and that’s that. It makes me hurt for him, because I know he’s capable of so much more. I just don’t think that Jase knows it. I think this right here is his wall, his shield. The way he protects himself from emotional pain.

  I’m not expecting him to proclaim undying love for me or anything, but . . . God, he’s got to at least give me something. Some kind of sign that he’s feeling that same shocking, completely unexpected connection that I am. Because even as guarded as I am, I damn well know that there’s something special going on here. Something that deserves more than a ‘we haven’t had our fill yet’ label.

  ‘I can’t,’ I force from my tight throat, knowing it’s the right choice, even if it’s not the one I want to make. But I have to cut my losses now, no matter how much it hurts. If I don’t, my beautiful memory of this time with him will become something dark and wrenching, and I could so easily find myself looking back on it with something similar to the twisted regret that burdens Harrison. And that’s not what I want. Not even close. So I say, ‘I won’t be that girl, Jase. The one who puts herself out there for a guy who will just use me up and move on before I even know what’s happening.’

  He braces his hands on the footboard of the sleigh bed, gripping the dark wood so hard that his knuckles are turning white as he leans toward me, and a muscle starts to pulse in the rigid line of his jaw. ‘You really think I would do that?’

  ‘I don’t know what to think. You’re not giving me a whole hell of a lot to go on here other than that we’re good at screwing each other and you want more of it.’

  He curses and shoves both hands back through his hair, uncaring that he’s standing there in little more than muscle and skin. It’d be difficult not to drool at the mouthwatering sight, if my freaking heart wasn’t in the process of cracking apart.

  ‘So you’re just going to run back to San Diego?’ he scrapes out.

  I shake my head and clutch the pillow a bit tighter. ‘I’m not running. I’m going home. But if you want . . .’

  ‘If I want what?’ he presses, when my voice trails off.

  I shake my head and laugh, unable to believe I was about to ask him to visit me. ‘Nothing. Never mind. I’m not thinking straight.’

  He grips the footboard again, and his nostrils flare as he pulls in a sharp breath. ‘I won’t beg you,’ he grates, his deep voice low and rough. ‘If that’s what you’re looking for, it’s never going to happen.’

  Quietly, I say, ‘I would never expect that.’

  ‘Then stop,’ he bites out. ‘Stop acting like a bitch just because I’m not coming to heel.’

  It would be so easy to let anger filter through my hurt, overtaking it, but I fight to hold it back.

  And, hey, at least he’s not lying to me. No, he’s being brutally honest, and so that’s what I give him in return. ‘I hope you have a wonderful life, Jase. Because you deserve it.’

  He flinches, and I can see him work his jaw a few times, before he says, ‘The deal was you stay till the end, and then we go back to London together.’

  ‘I know the terms of our deal.’

  His breath leaves his lungs in a harsh, angry burst, and he straightens, scrubbing both hands over his face. Then he turns his head toward the open French doors, staring out into the soft evening light, and I’m thrown when he says, ‘I’m going to grab a shower.’

  ‘Uh, okay.’

  He brings that dark, glittering gaze back to mine. ‘We’ll finish talking when I’m out.’

  I don’t say anything to those gritty words, but it’s like he can read my thoughts on my face, because he growls, ‘You owe me that much, Emmy. You’ve got your fucking article. The least you can do is stay and talk this over with me.’

  I’m silent as I watch him walk into the bathroom and slam the door closed behind him, because I already know that isn’t going to happen. The part of me that wants to stay with him, no matter the emotional consequences, is too powerful to test it, and I understand that if I don’t go now I might not go at all. That I might stay, waiting it out with him until the bitter end, when he decides he’s had enough and is done.

  No, I think, scurrying out of the bed and heading for the wardrobe. No way in hell.

  Less than a minute later, I’m dressed and heading downstairs with my hastily packed suitcase, making a run for it.

  I have a horrible feeling as I head toward the back of the house, trying to find Angus or someone who can maybe give me a ride to the nearest train station, that I’m leaving Jase to the wolves in this place. But it’s a pack he survived in before, and one he’ll conquer in the end. He’s too damn strong to ever let them crush him.

  The reception is in full swing outside, but this part of the house is quiet. I remember Jase saying that the kitchens and staff quarters are located in the rear east wing, and as I turn into the back hallway, I nearly run straight into one of the last people in this place I want to see: the evil queen herself.

  Caroline starts to scowl at me as if she’s actually caught me stealing the silver, until she notices the suitcase I’m lugging behind me, the flash of hatred in her blue eyes instantly turning to a look of cold calculation. ‘Do you need something, Miss Reed?’

  ‘A ride,’ I force through my gritted teeth. ‘To the train station.’

  She lifts her brows. ‘You’re leaving?’

  ‘Yes,’ I mutter, hating how much satisfaction that’s going to give her. ‘And as quickly as possible.’

  Her eyes gleam, red lips curling in a catlike smile that’s slow and gloating and mean, and I so badly want to tell this bitch to go to hell. Somehow, though, I manage to hold it back, because I know she’s going to help me. Not out of any kindness or female solidarity, but because she’s never wanted me here in the first place.

  ‘Wait here,’ she says, already turning away, her next words tossed over her shoulder. ‘I’ll have someone come to collect you in just a moment.’

  I bite my lip so hard it hurts, fighting not to burst into tears, my emotions in chaos. My body wants nothing more than to turn around and run back upstairs, so I can throw myself into Jase’s strong arms and hold on to him so tightly he can’t ever slip away, which is madness. Pure, fucking insanity! No matter how emotionally stunning our sexual chemistry might be, he’s made it clear he isn’t looking for a relations
hip, and I can’t risk falling in any deeper with him than I already have.

  Even an inch or two more, and I may not be able to keep my head above water.

  Caroline isn’t gone two seconds when I hear someone come up behind me, and the worry that it’s Jase makes it feel like my heart is trying to crawl into my throat. I’m so terrified I won’t have the willpower to walk away from him twice that I make a small sound of relief when I turn and see that it’s not Jase at all, but Callan. He starts to smile at me in that friendly, easy-going way of his, until he notices the rolling suitcase I’m still holding by the extended handle.

  ‘What’s going on?’ he asks, his dark eyes locking hard on mine.

  ‘Oh, um, I . . . I have to go,’ I ramble, sounding like an idiot. And I have no doubt that I look like an emotional wreck.

  Callan’s brows lift with surprise. ‘Now? It’s the middle of the reception.’

  ‘Yeah, um, something’s come up.’ As far as excuses go, it’s freaking lame. But I’m too shattered to be clever.

  ‘Is Jase pulling his car around front?’ he asks, holding out one of those big, brawny hands. ‘Let me have the case. I’ll carry it out for you.’

  ‘Oh . . . um, no,’ I stammer, taking a little step back, my grip on the handle tightening. ‘Jase is, uh, taking a shower.’

  The look on Callan’s face would’ve been priceless, if I were in any frame of mind to appreciate it. But I’m not. I’m shaking with nerves, and it’s taking everything I’ve got not to start sobbing like a child.

  He spends a few seconds studying my expression, and then, in a quiet voice, he asks, ‘Emmy, are you doing a runner?’

  ‘What? No!’ I lie, wishing Caroline would just hurry the hell up. ‘Of course not.’

  Doubt begins to roughen every word that comes out of Callan’s mouth. ‘Something just came up while Jase was showering, and you had to run down here to ask Caroline for help?’ At my sharp look, he says, ‘I saw you talking to her, and now you’re just waiting here, and Jase is still upstairs. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that she’s getting you a ride.’

  I lift my free hand to my forehead and begin rubbing, the headache building there even worse than the one I’d had on Thursday.

  Callan pushes his big hands into his trouser pockets and exhales a heavy sigh. ‘At least wait and let Jase take you to the train station.’

  I’m shaking my head before the low words have even finished coming out of his mouth. ‘No. I . . . I can’t.’

  That V between his brows gets deeper. ‘If we were talking about any other guy, Emmy, I’d probably start thinking something bad had happened. But I know Jase, which means I know that’s not the case. So what’s going on?’

  I bite my lip, instinctively taking another step back from him, my composure as shaky as an active fault line. I’m thinking that I need to turn and just walk away, putting an end to this uncomfortable conversation, when I hear myself quietly say, ‘He wants me to stay.’

  Callan looks more confused than ever. ‘And your answer is to leave? You won’t even give your relationship a shot?’

  ‘Um . . . there is no relationship. That’s not what he’s offering. He just wants . . .’ My voice trails off, and I’m mortified that I almost babbled about how Jase just wants us to get our fill of each other in the sack. Hell, I’m mortified that I’ve told Callan Hathaway any of this stuff, but it’s like I can’t contain it. The words are churning and twisting inside me, desperate to break free.

  ‘Fuck.’ It’s a blunt, raspy curse, and I can tell by his frown that Callan’s put the pathetic pieces of this night together. ‘I don’t know whether I should argue for him, or go upstairs and kick his ass for being such an idiot.’

  ‘Callan, stay out of it, please,’ I say imploringly, a strange mix of relief and pain pulsing through my system when I hear heavy footsteps behind me, as well as the sharp click of Caroline’s heels. ‘There’s honestly nothing you can do. It is what it is.’

  ‘Come here,’ he mutters, pulling me into his arms and giving me a hard, quick hug. It’s what I need right now, and it gives me the strength to sniff back my tears and pull in a deep breath.

  ‘Tell him I’m sorry,’ I whisper huskily, not wanting Caroline and whoever she’s found to drive me to the station to overhear my words. ‘Tell him . . . Tell him I won’t ever forget him.’

  Callan steps to the side, shocking the hell out of me when he says, ‘Jase is one of the smartest men I’ve ever known, Emmy. Once he’s pulled his head out of his ass, he’ll come after you.’

  ‘No. He won’t.’

  But, God, how I wish he was right.

  A gentle smile kicks up the corner of Callan’s wide mouth. ‘Just know that the next time I see you, honey, I’m going to enjoy saying “I told you so”.’

  I give him a sad smile before I turn away to face Caroline and Angus, who have just reached us. I don’t bother looking at the evil bitch, keeping my gaze on Angus’s friendly, concerned expression, and without a word he takes the case from me. Caroline manages to bite back any catty remarks she’s probably dying to make, and as awkward as the conversation was with Callan, I’m grateful he found me, because his presence is no doubt what’s keeping her silent.

  Leaving Caroline and Callan behind, I walk beside Angus as we head toward the front of the house, and he tells me he’s already pulled his car around.

  ‘Thank you,’ I murmur, unable to say any more without crying, Callan’s last words playing over and over through my head.

  I may have never been a dreamer, but now I want it. I want it so badly I can taste it.

  It’s pointless and stupid and is probably going to cause me a lot of misery in the months to come, because it’s never going to happen. But there’s no sense in lying to myself about it, because it’s a bright, burning truth at the center of my being, screaming through every part of me.

  I want Jase.

  I want a future with him.

  I want him to come running after me, telling me he was wrong. That he felt something more than just a physical attraction he wanted to work out of his system.

  God, I’ve become the biggest cliché of them all, because there’s no denying the truth.

  I, Emmy Reed, one of the most cynical girls in the world, want the dream. The spark. The magic.

  Somehow, some way, I want the fucking fairy tale.

  To be continued . . .

  FIND YOUR HEART’S DESIRE . . .

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