Page 25 of Wild Heart
I shook my head. “This isn’t the place to talk about it.”
She returned a nod of understanding as a wave of determination became apparent in her features. Her eyes drifted to my neck as she tugged her hand out of mine. She flattened her palm against my chest, allowed both hands to drift up over my shoulders and toward either side of my throat. Ava stayed like that for a few moments before she began fidgeting with my collar. She leaned in closer and put her mouth at my ear and continued to adjust my collar around my tie. “If only you had someone to do this for you. Every morning before you go to work. Imagine how nice it would be to have someone fix your tie for you.”
Relief swept through me. I wanted to throw my fist in the air and celebrate. I had her back.
Now, I needed to make sure I didn’t do anything to screw it up.
6
AVA
I was goingto go for it.
I had nothing left to lose.
The last two days had been nothing short of a whirlwind of emotions.
If Tate was being honest with me and didn’t see me as a sister, if he waswildly attractedto me, then I was going to give this one last shot.
Maybe, especially after what the last sixteen months had been like for me, I should have reconsidered. Why would I be so willing to put myself in a situation where I’d already been rejected?
I couldn’t help the way I felt. I’d loved Tate for as long as I could remember, and with his confirmation that he felt an attraction to me, I couldn’t walk away without giving myself the chance to have at least one night with him.
He had reasons—reasons he didn’t want to share with me now—for not being with me. I’d decided it didn’t matter what they were. Not in this situation, anyway.
Tate was the kind of man who wasn’t so easily swayed. He was controlled, restrained, and methodical. He didn’t make decisions on a whim, and I wasn’t foolish enough to presume I’dever be able to convince him his reasons—whatever they were—were inconsequential compared to the life we could have had together.
But I could make one last-ditch effort to give myself this, to leave a piece of me with Tate that he’d have forever, a piece that I’d only ever wanted him to have.
I’d made up my mind, and since I wasn’t coming back to Landing, I had to give it one last shot. Maybe, just maybe, I could get Tate to bend just enough to give me that. One night with him before I left, tried to heal my heart, and never looked back.
I still wasn’t quite sure how I was going to manage any of that—this town, the Westwoods, and Tate had been my reasons for always returning. How would I leave here tomorrow morning knowing that I wouldn’t be back for a long time, even longer than the tour had been? I had to take the time away, because these last two days taught me that being around Tate while knowing he didn’t want to give us a shot was impossible for me.
His presumptions or hopes about us getting back to who we were before I left for the tour didn’t take into account where I stood. It was a grueling task to be in his presence, knowing there was no hope, that we stood no chance.
If nothing else, I could be grateful for this. For being held in his arms while we danced together. I looked at it as the only parting gift I might receive from him, whether he intended for it to be that way or not.
Because even if I couldn’t convince him to give me one night, at least I’d have this. At least he’d held me close to him, and I could walk away with one positive memory.
The song we’d been dancing to was nearing its end, bringing, if my instincts were correct, the slow set to a close.
Time to put my plan into action.
“So, did you mean it?” I asked.
“Mean what?”
“When you said you missed me, did you mean it?”
His eyes searched my face in a way that made me feel like he was trying to memorize it. He’d been doing that a lot between our conversation last night and this dance tonight. “Tremendously.”
I curled the fingers of one hand around the back of his neck. “Will you prove it to me?”
Curiosity got the best of him. “How can I do that?”
The slow song ended, and Tate’s body stopped with it as the next song’s upbeat tempo filtered through the speakers. “Dance with me.”
His thick brows shot up. “Pardon?”