That’s it. I couldn’t do it anymore. Couldn’t avoid him completely. Trying to stay away had only made me more desperate for him. So, I did what any ordinary person would do.
I Googled him.
It was a completely valid thing to do. I mean, I had gone months without looking him up once, doing a quick, harmless Internet search was long overdue, right? It wouldn’t hurt to just take a little peek at what he’d been up to all this time.
Wrong.
I regretted my decision zero-point-two seconds later when I read the very first search result.
Mystery Man Revealed: Matt Langston and Ava Davis are in Love!
Obviously, I clicked on it. And as I studied the photo under the headline, the one where the two of them are walking out of some restaurant hand-in-hand, looking into each other’s eyes with ridiculous smiles on their faces, everything changed. After the initial shock wore off and after I lifted my jaw from the floor, bile rose in my throat. My hands began to shake. Tears that I thought I had pushed so deep that they’d never come out burned my eyes and eventually spilled down my cheeks. And for the first time since walking away from Matt, I deeply regretted it.
Up until now, the possibility that he’d wait for me remained in my heart. But he’d made a choice—a highly public choice—to do exactly what I made him believe I wanted. He’d made the choice to move on.
~~~
My phone buzzed me awake at 3:00 this morning. Irritated that I had forgotten to turn it off completely, I took my phone from the nightstand, preparing to tell whoever it was to piss off…until I saw who it was from and what his text said.
Gavin: 911. Logan’s been in an accident.
My sleep-haze immediately disappeared as I quickly sat up and called Gavin back.
“Hey,” he answered simply.
“What do you mean he’s been in an accident?” I asked. “Is he okay? What happened?”
Gavin sighed into the phone, “It’s not good, Chlo. It’s a long story, but the gist is that he crashed his car during a race. Liv’s hurt too, but she’ll be okay. Logan, though—he hit his head hard. They had to do surgery, and he’s just not waking up. The doctors said he should’ve woken up by now. They say the longer he’s under, the worse his chances are for recovery. I’m here at the hospital, and I just have a bad fucking feeling. I thought you’d want to know in case—”
“In case what?” I gasped.
The line remained silent.
“Gavin,” I urged. “Tell me.”
With hesitation, he replied, “In case you want to pay your respects.”
“I’m on my way.”
“Wait, they won’t let you see him yet. It’s too early. Visitors aren’t allowed until eight.”
“Are you kidding me? So, you called me now so that I could sit here and worry for the next five hours?”
“Like I said, I didn’t think anyone had told you yet, and I thought you’d want to know.”
I sighed, “Your timing sucks. But thank you. I appreciate you telling me.”
“You’re welcome.”
“I guess I’ll be there at eight,” I thought out loud.
~~~
When I arrived at the hospital, I was shocked to see news crews lined up along the entrance. Network television vans lit up the dark street in front of the hospital, their satellite discs raised high into the air. Reporters spoke into their padded microphones as cameramen held recording equipment on their shoulders, filming their every word.
As they excitedly reported their stories, I wondered if they were here for Logan—or something else. A car accident didn’t usually drive this kind of news. Whatever their purpose, it was clear by the determination in their eyes and voices, that something significant had just happened within the last few minutes.
I picked up my pace, hoping to God that it wasn’t Logan’s condition that they were reporting, because if it was, they had likely just gotten word that he had either had a miraculous recovery or had taken a turn for the worse. Either way, I wanted to get to him quickly.
I almost tripped over myself as I passed Kim Sheldon, a local reporter who I recognized from Channel Four, not because of my speed, but because of the words I overheard her speak as she looked into the camera: “As you saw only a few moments ago, TV’s American Muscle star, Matt Langston, has just entered Community Memorial Hospital to support his childhood friend who is now in dire condition. In a moment like this, when the most important thing Matt has to lean on is his loved ones, Ava Davis was reportedly seen out with friends back in Las Vegas less than a few short hours ago. It makes you wonder…is their relationship as strong as we thought it was? Only time will tell. Back to you, Chris.”
In a daze, I kept walking toward the entrance then into the lobby, letting her words sink in until I finally recognized what they meant.
Matt is here. I’m going to see Matt in a few minutes.
I entered the elevator and pushed the 5th-floor button, letting the memory of his touch take over my thoughts. I leaned against the elevator wall as it carried me up, floor by floor, flashbacks of our last night together fiercely invading me. I could still feel his skin against mine. I could still smell his scent. God, I missed him so much.
The elevator door dinged as it opened. The hallway was quiet, empty except for two nurses behind the desk.
“Uh—hi, I’m here to see Logan Tanner,” I informed the nurses as I approached the desk.
The middle-aged nurse looked me up and down. “I’m sorry, Miss. He’s only allowed one visitor at a time. His mom is with him now, but—” she pointed to her left “—the rest of his visitors are in the waiting room down the hall, around the corner. You’re welcome to join them.”
“Thank you,” I said and began walking in the direction she pointed.
I don’t know why the possibility of Liv being amongst his visitors didn’t cross my mind, but when I turned the corner and saw her sitting with Gavin by her side, I froze.
I’d assumed that by now, Logan would’ve told her what I confessed to him about the morning that I basically broke her heart—but that didn’t mean she’d forgiven me. Nor did it make this moment anything less than awkward. Luckily she hadn't noticed me yet, although backing away led to the encounter that I had dreaded more than anything.
Chapter Eight
~Matt~
As soon as I’d heard about Logan’s accident, I jumped on the first flight home. I arrived in my hometown less than an hour ago and hoped to avoid any paparazzi but had no such luck. Cameras and reporters swarmed my cab the second it pulled up to the hospital. The moment I opened my door, questions flew out at me.
Where’s Ava?
Did you hear the reports that she’s out clubbing tonight?
Trouble in paradise?
What do you think about her partying while your friend is on his death bed?
That last question threw me over the edge.
“Fuck you,” I pointed. “And you. And you. Have a little respect!”
Unfortunately, I had just given them exactly what they wanted. An outburst. One that only escalated their frenzy. Cameras clicked faster. Voices blurred together. Bodies pushed and shoved.
Realizing that the best course of action would be to shut the hell up, I pressed my lips together and trudged forward through the crowd. Thank God they weren’t allowed inside the hospital.
I followed the direction Gavin gave me to the ICU waiting room where he was sitting with Liv. He had given me the details of Liv and Logan’s injuries and how they happened, but seeing Liv all bruised up with her fingers in a cast and arm in a sling brought out the protector in me. I wanted to kill the motherfucker who did this to them.
Good thing he was already dead.
Liv smiled as I leaned down to hug her.
I breathed out a sigh of relief. “After everything you’ve been through, it’s damn good to see that smile on you, Liv.”
“I’ve got a good reason for it,” her grin widened as I released her. “He's awake, Matt
! He woke up a few hours ago!”
“No shit?” I raised my brows and let go of the last twenty-four hours of anxiety that had stacked itself atop of my shoulders since I’d heard about the accident.
“Looks like you came all this way for nothing,” Gavin joked.
“You know nothing would stop me from being here, dude,” I replied. “So? What’s the prognosis? Is he gonna be okay?”
“It’ll be a lot of physical therapy,” Liv said. “But he’s expected to make a full recovery.”
“Jesus, that’s good news,” I breathed, relieved. “Why’s everyone out here? Shouldn’t we be in his room, celebrating? Oh, wait. The nurse must be giving him a sponge bath. Please tell me the nurse is an eighty-year-old midget…”
“His mom is with him,” Liv smiled. “They’re bonding.”
Knowing how tumultuous Logan’s relationship with his mom had been in recent years, hearing this news lifted my spirits even more.
“It’s about damn time they reconciled,” I rubbed the back of my neck, suddenly aware that I hadn’t slept in over twenty-four hours. “In that case, where’s the coffee?”
Gavin pointed toward the hall I came from. “There’s a vending room over there with coffee. They’ve also got a cappuccino maker for lovely ladies like you, buddy.”
I was too damn happy to jab him back so I went with, “Thanks, fucker.”
After pouring my coffee—black, mind you—I headed back to the waiting room. Or I tried to anyway. But the moment I stepped back into the hallway, I saw her.
Chloe. At least, I think it was her…legs for miles, ass as tight as they come, fuck-me-now walk. Only, she was all blond and no pink. What happened to the pink?
She was moving. Away from me, toward the waiting area. My legs remembered how to walk, and I followed her down the hall until she turned the corner and came to a hard stop. A millisecond later, she quickly back-stepped, right into me and my coffee, thoroughly soaking my t-shirt in the steaming liquid.
She gasped, taking me by the elbows for balance as I grimaced from the hot brew now burning my chest. Her eyes widened in shock, pupils dilating as our gazes met. She glanced back at Gavin and Liv who still hadn’t noticed her, then pushed me further back, out of the waiting room’s view.
“I’m sorry!” she whispered, her eyes fixated on my chest.
“Damn, Pink,” I smiled. “You’ve always had a way of getting me all hot ‘n bothered, but this is taking it to a whole new level.” I cocked my head, “Or…maybe I should call you blondie?”
She didn’t laugh. Instead, her brows scrunched up in confusion. Leaning against the wall, she rubbed her forehead and sighed, defeat taking her over.
“Hey, I’m kidding,” I assured her. “Don’t worry. It’s okay, it’ll dry.”
“I—I’m just not sure I should even be here,” she said, more to herself than to me. “This is a mistake.”
Mistake…the understatement of the century. But the mistake wasn’t hers; it was mine. Seeing her now, in the flesh, smelling her citrus scent, and hearing her voice, made me wish I never would’ve let her go. Made me wish I would’ve chased after her the day she walked away from me. The only mistake was calling her an Uber cab instead of driving her home myself.
I couldn’t bring myself to tell her that now, though. So instead, I asked, “What’s a mistake?”
“This! Being here,” she responded frantically. “I heard about Logan, that he might not—well, that he’s not doing so well, and this might be my last opportunity to see him, so I just decided to come here without thinking about what to say to Liv if she were here—which she is. I mean, she must still hate me, and she has every right to. And now you’re here, which totally goes against my plan of avoiding you forever, and you’re covered in coffee because of me and—and—”
I calmly placed my hands on her shoulders, “Chloe, he’s okay.”
“What did you say?” she whispered, looking at me as if she didn’t trust the words I had just spoken.
“He woke up a few hours ago, and he’s doing fine. He’ll be okay.”
“Oh my God,” she breathed, eyes glistening. Bowing her head to avoid my stare, a tear escaped and fell to the floor.
“Hey,” I lifted her chin so that she’d look at me. “That’s good news, right?”
She nodded, “Yeah. Of course it is.”
I wiped the tear from her cheek with my thumb, “So these are happy tears?”
She sighed, choosing her words carefully. “If you’re asking if I’m happy that Logan is okay, the answer is yes, of course I am.”
“But?”
“But nothing. I’m happy.”
“C’mon, Pink. I know you better than that.”
“I’m as happy as I can be without—” She growled in frustration. “Never mind. Excuse me.” She tried pushing past me. Almost made it, too, until I took her wrist, turning her back around to face me.
“Without what?” I demanded.
Yanking her hand out of my grip, she blurted, “You. Okay? Without you.”
~Chloe~
I took off running. Or walking briskly, I should say. I had already lost my cool. Already said too much. I wasn’t about to make even more of an idiot of myself by sprinting down a quiet hall lined with medical staff and visitors.
“Chloe, wait,” Matt called out.
Shit.
Now I was running. So much for discretion. All eyes were on me as I darted down the hall. Why did I have to blurt out my thoughts to him like that? I suppose he always did have a way of bringing the truth out of me. Clearly, that hasn’t changed. What has changed, however, is that he has someone else to love now. Someone who had been honorably discharged from the Air Force with a college degree. Someone who loved cars just as much as her father. Just as much as Matt. Someone with the same background, same interests, and probably the same goals. With all those qualities on top of her natural physical beauty, she was the kind of girl men wanted to be with and women wanted to be like.
Yep, I cyberstalked Ava Davis. Google, Facebook, Wikipedia…the works. Only to find out she was perfect for Matt. The kind of woman he deserved. Someone he could be happy with.
I needed to let him be happy.
Reaching the elevator, I pushed the button again and again as if my repetitive pressing of it would make the door open quicker. When I saw Matt closing in, I gave up on the elevator and opted for the stairwell instead. Pressing on the heavy metal door’s push-handle, I bulldozed through, immediately heading down the stairs, each click of my heels echoing against the concrete walls.
“Jesus, Chloe, stop!” Matt reached me just as I landed on the next floor down. Grabbing my elbow, he turned me around and pushed my back against the wall, his palms pinning me to the brick by my shoulders. His sudden movement jolted me. Enticed me. When I looked into the million emotions behind his expression—anger, confusion, relief—I didn’t want to run anymore. I couldn’t run. Because every passing second we stared at each other, the more connected we became.
Both of us panted from the chase, our only focus now on each other. He was so close that I could feel his breath caress my cheeks. The heat from his palms traveled from my shoulders to my toes. I had dreamt of being this close to him for months, and now that he was here, all logical reasoning had swiftly left the building. Not only did I not want him to let go of me—I wanted him to do more than just pin me against a wall.
His right hand loosened its grip from my shoulder and traveled softly up my neck. As the backs of his fingers trailed my jawline and into my hair, his eyes contemplated my expression, studying my reaction to him. I tried to keep my blatant longing for him at bay, but when he gently brushed a piece of hair away from my eye and behind my ear, the contact elicited a soft sigh to escape from me, my eyes instinctively closing from the tenderness of his touch.
When I opened them, his gaze was locked on my lips as if they were a mystery he longed to solve. The pad of his thumb slowly, carefully, circled them, then p
ulled my bottom lip gently down, causing my breath to hitch. My reaction to his touch didn’t go unnoticed.
“Fuck, Chlo,” he growled. Before I knew what was happening, his mouth collided with mine, consuming all thought, provoking my raw, carnal instinct to bring him even closer to me. Looping my fingers through the belt loops of his jeans, I drew him in, pulling our bodies together, the cool, wet coffee that had spilled on his shirt bleeding through mine.
As he kissed my neck and nipped at my earlobe, I whispered, “You’re soaked.”
He was off me in a split second. Surprised by the sudden separation, I watched as he tore off his coat first and dropped it to the floor. Grabbing his t-shirt from the back, he pulled it over his head and rapidly wiped off the remaining coffee from his chest just before throwing it down.
I laughed at his impulsive act as he crashed back into me, burying his face in my neck, his mouth working its way up my neck and tickling the sensitive spot behind my earlobe.
“You do realize we’re in public, right?” I asked, my voice raspy like I had just woken up. “Anyone could see us at any moment.”
“I don’t care,” he mumbled. “You missed me. That’s all that matters.”
The relief in his voice pulled at my heart while the reality of his words you missed me—a sharp reminder of the months that had passed and the things that had happened during our time apart—pierced it. With the influx of that reality came a surge of sensibility. Remembering that he wasn’t mine to kiss, I reluctantly pushed him away, pleading, “Stop. Please. I don’t want this. We have to stop.”
With a growl, he complied, although he didn’t go far. He removed his lips from my skin, but his body still pressed against mine, his palms on the wall keeping me closed in and making it damn hard to hold on to any sort of willpower. I could see the hurt—the torment—in his eyes and it killed me. But how could he want this—want me—when he was in love with someone else?
CHAPTER Nine
The Fragile Line: Part Three (The Fine Line #4) Page 4