“I don’t want—”
“Because I can really see that working out fucking great, Lydia.” He chucked the cloth aside, furious. “Good idea. Awesome.”
“Vaughan.” The muscles in my jaw ached.
“Want to know the difference between me and you, babe?”
I kept my mouth shut. Pretty damn sure he was going to tell me.
“Your dream was marrying some douche with a nice big bank account and hiding out behind the white picket fence for the rest of your life.” The jerk towered over me, looming.
“That so?”
“Christ. You know it is.” He laughed, spitefully.
Wow. Yeah. I had nothing to say in response.
“But my dream … mine.” His thumb hit him squarely in the center of his chest. “It was a little bigger.”
I had no words. None.
For a good minute I just stared up at him, amazed by his outburst, more than anything. There was no real reason why I should have been. He and I had now known each other for what … a bit under forty-eight hours? I’d known Chris for four months and been clueless. My track record for reading people was, after all, shitty.
“Okay. I’m sorry for saying something that upset you.” I paused, taking a deep breath. “That was obviously insensitive of me, given everything you’re going through.”
Nothing.
“What I meant to say was that there might be other jobs in music that would work for you. That you might love as much.”
Still nothing.
“I am not your enemy, Vaughan. I care a hell of a lot about you.” My hands hung stiff by my sides. It was all I could do to resist strangling the idiot. “The way you just spoke to me is not okay. How dare you say that my hopes for the future are less important than yours. That I’m some money-grubbing bitch ready to spread her legs for a big house to play trophy wife.”
“Lydia—”
“I’m not finished, you asshat.”
The man looked down at me, eyes full of surprise, or bewilderment. His face was drawn, lips shut tight. Just as they should be. I stared at him, memorizing every detail for a later date, when I didn’t want to burn him down or burst into tears. Stupid female emotions, always getting me into trouble when I wanted to be a hard ass. My butt wobbled, it always had and always would. Time to accept myself and all my flaws and move on.
“Actually, I am finished.”
“’kay.”
“I’m going to get my stuff together,” I said. “I think that would be best.”
He had no comment.
I backed away, turned, and started walking toward the front door.
Most of my stuff was already packed into boxes. This shouldn’t be too hard.
My foot hit the front step and I stumbled, losing my balance. I grasped at the old iron railing, fighting to catch myself before my face met the floor. Awesome. Such grace.
“I’m sorry.”
I stopped cold.
Nothing more was said.
Slowly, I turned. He stood in the long grass, watching, waiting. Honestly, it was hard to look at him. The expression on his face and the way he held his body, the emotion in his eyes. My world was so colored when it came to him. Every detail so vivid and real. He shouldn’t have that power. It would have been so much easier to leave him otherwise. I’d broken into his house, but he’d somehow broken into me, cracked me wide open, exposing me to so much more of life than what had existed before.
And to think I’d genuinely believed I loved Chris. What an idiot. I didn’t have a fucking clue about love. I got like and lust, things along those lines. But the rest was an abyss, a big black hole, and I couldn’t see the bottom. Couldn’t even begin to fathom the depth of it. Inside me, there lived a big ball of emotion to do with my friend Vaughan. None of it was ready to be labeled. All I knew was, leaving him hurt.
“Is that it?” I knotted my fingers in front of myself, unsure.
One thick shoulder rose and fell. “Does there need to be more?”
“I’m not sure.”
He took one step toward me, and then another. With him standing at the bottom of the stairs and me on the second, we were eye to eye. His hands tangled with mine, first one then the other. God, his skin was so warm.
Our bodies gravitated toward each other. The pull of one messed-up heart to another. I watched him warily, trying to hold something back for safekeeping. It didn’t really work.
“You’re right, I was an asshat.”
“Yeah, you were.”
A little nod. “I’m going to kiss you now,” he whispered.