Skin Dive (40 page)

Read Skin Dive Online

Authors: Ava Gray

Tags: #Romance

BOOK: Skin Dive
2.86Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
“I’d like that. It’ll make it less lonely.”
“You can chat with people, can’t you?”
“Yeah.” His electronic voice gained some bitterness. “I’ll pretend to be a real boy.”
“Enough of that. Nobody made you do this . . . you
wanted
to be a hero.”
“I wanted to be your hero,” he said quietly.
Fucking bastard.
Why now? After all these years, when it was too late. Tan swallowed tears, and she paused long enough to get herself together, forcing the emotions down. When she spoke, her voice came out husky. “Enough of this shit. We’ve got some living to do . . . How do you feel about taking a cruise once the old guy gets back from Vegas?”
“Do I have a choice?”
“Not so much.”
He laughed softly. “Then I’ll make you a reservation.”

 

Staring at Gillie’s
apartment door, Taye wondered if he had miscalculated. Maybe he should have stayed at the hospital instead of going off to see about some grand gesture. She had to be furious—or maybe she just thought he was crazy. God knew, he’d given a fair impression of it over the past few months. Part of that, he could blame on the pain medication—it was impossible to make rational choices when you were stoned.
But the rest of the stupidity? Him. All him. Guys like him didn’t get the girl; they didn’t catch the brass ring. Yet he was still here, somehow. Still standing. That meant things might not wrap up as he deserved. So he steeled his nerve and knocked.
After a moment, Gillie opened the door. The first thing he noticed? Her red hair. Symbolic, he figured, for taking back the sense of self she’d lost while pretending to be someone else. He was so glad she didn’t have to do that anymore, however this turned out.
“You bastard,” she snarled.
That was his only warning. A heavy book flew at his head, then a lamp, and then the contents of the bowl she kept beside the door; coins and keys pelted him. Still cussing him, she backed into the apartment and laid hands on a pretty crystal vase. Heavy, it looked like. Her aim was better, too, because despite his attempt to dodge, she nailed him with it; hurt his shoulder more than he would’ve expected, and then it smashed into shards at his feet.
“Just let me explain,” he said.
But inwardly, he was smiling. Bent as it was, her outrage meant she still loved him. He just had to talk her past it. Admittedly, it could take a while, but he had an ace up his sleeve.
“There’s nothing to explain, you fuckhead. I hate you and I hope your balls rot off. I hope you die in the woods alone, bears eat your bowels, and then your spirit’s cursed to wander the earth for all eternity.”
“Harsh, but fair.”
She made an adorable, angry noise and slammed the door in his face. Unfazed, he raked the glass aside and sat down outside her apartment. It wasn’t like he had anywhere else to be.
One of her neighbors went past while he waited. The guy studied him and the mess in the hallway. “So should I call the cops?”
“I wish you wouldn’t . . . she’ll let me in eventually, and I’ll try to get her to keep the damage inside the apartment.”
“Damn. What’d you do, dude?”
“Long story.”
Half an hour later, she peered out at him. “Are you still here? Seriously? How much clearer can I be? Go. To. Hell. I’d rather be alone than be with someone like you.”
“Like me?”
“A man who doesn’t trust me. Even knowing how I feel about my own sovereignty, knowing how important it is I get to choose, you almost made that decision for me. I don’t know if I can ever forgive you.” The anger faded, leaving only sadness.
He knew his first pang of genuine terror—that their relationship might be utterly FUBAR. “Gillie, please. Give me five minutes and hear me out. Afterward, if you still want me to go, I will. I promise.”
She sighed and relented, stepping back so he could come in. “Five. I’m timing you. Ass.”
Taye didn’t look around at the home she’d fashioned because it would just make talking harder, but he owed her this. “Even before we got out of Exeter, I knew my time was limited. I tried not to get too close to you because of it . . . but you’re impossible not to love. For me, anyway. You’re the answer to every question I never asked, nothing I deserve and everything I need.”
“Well, sure. Even now it’s all about you. Guess what? I don’t
care
.”
His fear amped up. “Okay, so here it is. I didn’t want you to know because I knew you’d save me. This gift . . . it’s carcinogenic, and I can’t fully control it. If I could just stop, I would, but sometimes I pull and I don’t even mean to. That means the cancer’s coming back, sooner or later, and I didn’t want to commit you to a lifetime of healing me, when it fucking hurts you, when you
hate
it. I couldn’t stand being a burden on you, and I didn’t want to become Rowan in your eyes.”
“You aren’t like him,” she said softly. “You’re worse. You made me love you . . . and then you didn’t trust me to make my own decisions, even though I told you from the start how much that mattered. Regardless of what he did, he couldn’t hurt me, not really, not deep down where it counted. But Taye . . .
you
broke my heart.”
Past tense. Shit. I left it too long. I fucked this up so completely. I . . . lost her.
But no, there was no point in this fresh start if he didn’t get to build a life with Gillie Flynn. Against all the odds, he was still here and he wasn’t going anywhere. He’d win her over; he’d try harder. There was no other acceptable outcome. Without Gillie, he might as well have died, as he’d planned, in that final raid.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “Believe me, I am. If I could go back, if I could confide in you—”
“You can’t. The past’s immutable. And hey, on an intellectual level, I get it. Once I knew, how could I ever leave you, knowing that means your eventual death?” She shook her head. “But that’s predicated on specious logic. It assumes I would want to.”
“Gillie—”
She went on as if he hadn’t spoken. “That, in turn, is predicated on the supposition I’m unable to assess the pros and cons of committing to a relationship with you. Did you
really
think I wouldn’t understand the gravity?”
Time to change things up. He was starting to realize he’d been a total ass but maybe he could get her to look past his mistakes and see a future. “I have something to show you.”
“Your five minutes is up. You swore you’d leave if I still wanted you to, or is your word worthless, too?”
Damn.
She was mean as a snake, and he loved her for it. Deep down, the masochist in him knew he deserved to suffer. No question. So he practiced patience and let her twist the knife. God knew, he’d hurt her enough for three lifetimes. If she needed blood to make her feel like they stood on level ground, so be it. He’d bleed for her. There was nothing he wouldn’t do for her . . . and in the coming weeks, he intended to prove it.
“Okay.” Taye strode toward the door. “I’m leaving . . . for now. But I don’t promise to stay away. Ask me to cut out my heart instead. Ask me to stop breathing.”
“Don’t tempt me,” she muttered.
He flashed her a smile over his shoulder, meant to tell her he’d only just begun. “Get ready to be wooed.”
CHAPTER 29
The first thing
Gillie did after the raid was look up her parents online. She had to know if Rowan had been lying. And there they were in the Internet White Pages, Ambrose and Stephanie Flynn, Knoxville, Tennessee. She didn’t know what she intended to do about it, but maybe someday, she’d pick up the phone and call. For now it was enough to know they lived. Before, she hadn’t wanted to risk her parents, as the Foundation would surely have been watching them.
Relief eased some of her anger at Taye, too. But not all of it. Not nearly.
Gillie stood in her booth at the firing range, grimly plugging her target. In her mind’s eye, it was Taye, not some random paper figure.
Bastard thinks he can show up and smile and everything will be forgiven? I. Don’t. Think. So. Not with what he did . . . and the way he just left me at the hospital, not knowing if he was ever coming back.
She emptied her magazine and hit the return button. It was satisfying to see how many times she’d hit her target. Not all in the little circle, granted, but not bad either.
When she went home, she found a dozen roses waiting outside her apartment. She scowled at them, but she picked them up and carried them in with her. It wasn’t because they were from him; she just didn’t want the poor flowers to die because an asshole had purchased them. In retrospect, she hadn’t hurt him enough. The bouquet came with a card attached; Gillie debated whether she should read it, but in the end, she did.
As he had to know I would.
I’ll spend the life you gave me making this up to you. This is day one. I love you, Gillie Flynn. Always.
The flowers arrived like clockwork after that, day by day, though Taye didn’t come himself. He was giving her coolingoff time. Which was smart, she had to admit. Most days, she still felt like stabbing him. After the first week, he switched from flowers to cards and stuffed animals; most were adorable, but they didn’t assuage her rage.
Still, it was amazing what he remembered. When he first started visiting her, they had talked about all kinds of things . . . and she’d mentioned in passing how sad she had been at sixteen when Rowan decided she was too old for her toys. He had made that decision, along with every other major one in her life, and removed the bear she hugged at night. No more softness. Rowan had given them to her, which meant she should hate them, but as a kid, she had been grateful for even pretend company.
And so Taye gave back her collection, piece by piece. God, she’d shared such minutia down in Exeter. Who could’ve imagined that Taye would recall she once had two stuffed bears—one of which was a koala—a rabbit, a tiger, a puppy, a penguin, and a big fat turtle. Each arrived, day after day, with a new greeting card. Some were cheesy, some romantic. Others were funny. Sometimes he wrote in blank ones. Words like,
I miss you
,
I’m lost
, and
I don’t want to live without you.
By the end of the second week, she started to miss him. A little. And maybe he knew that, too, because the day she picked up the turtle—the final piece of her lost set—he stood waiting at the foot of the stairs, probably ready to run if she threw things at him again. As usual, he wore a plain white T-shirt, motorcycle boots, and worn jeans. No leather duster—it was too warm out, even though it was getting on toward evening.
For the first time since she’d known him, Taye looked healthy. He had put on a little weight, just enough to ease the ravaged quality. God, he was handsome, though he still had that tragic air about him, like a rock star about to go out in a blaze of glory. Part of her wondered if that had anything to do with her refusal to see or speak to him.
“You weren’t kidding when you said you wouldn’t give up. How long do you plan to keep on like this?”
“As long as it takes,” he said quietly. No bravado. He just gazed up at her with those Mediterranean eyes.
Oh, God. Why do I still love him?
“What do you want, Taye?”
“You. Forever and ever.”
She wished she could throw something at his head, but the initial anger had gone. Now she was just sad and tired. Just as well she had no classes this summer and no internship. She needed time to get her head in order.
“You had me. And I don’t trust you now . . . I don’t know if I ever can again. You treated me like a child.”
Pain flared, unmistakable. Yeah, he understood what he’d done. But he didn’t make excuses or try to justify it this time, which was a step in the right direction.
“I regret that,” he said. “But as you said, it cannot be changed. Let me take you out . . . just one date. If, at the end of the evening, you still want me to leave you alone, I will. I promise.”
Wow. He must have a hell of an evening lined up.
Reluctantly, she was intrigued as to what he thought could change her mind.
“Okay. I’ll take your deal. What should I wear?”
“What you have on. You look beautiful.... you’ve
never
looked less than beautiful.”
Hell. Maybe he does love me.
She was wearing a thrift-store T-shirt with a picture of a donkey piñata and the slogan “I’d Hit That,” along with a pair of jeans with the knees torn out.
“Let me get my purse and keys, then.”
They stepped outside, and the air smelled of honeysuckle. It grew all over the fences despite the careful landscaping. To her surprise, he led her over to a motorcycle; though she was no expert, it looked old—chrome, retro-styling, and cherry paint.
“It’s a vintage Indian Chief,” he told her, interpreting her expression correctly.
Taye handed her a sparkly red helmet; it matched his, only his was matte. With a mental shrug, she put it on and climbed on behind him. When he took off, she had no choice but to lean into him and wrap her arms around his waist.
That’s probably why he bought the thing.
Even with the hot wind and car exhaust, she could still discern his scent—light citrus and bergamot. Whatever his cologne, it
so
worked. Damn him.

Other books

Mating Heat by Jenika Snow
Plan B by Jonathan Tropper
Summer of Seventeen by Jane Harvey-Berrick
Jules Verne by Claudius Bombarnac
Heaven's Reach by David Brin
Pawn by Greg Curtis
Moved by K.M. Liss
Hell by Elena M. Reyes
Starkissed by Gabrielson , Brynna