All Amity Allows (Fall for You Book 2) (16 page)

Chapter Fifteen

Drew's chest tightened
as an influx of information flooded into him. He could barely believe what he was seeing—couldn’t understand the sheer enormity of the information.

Flashes of truth raced through his brain, one after the other. Him, his face, Becca, Evan, Rose—
who's Rose
—Evan, loss, death, cupid, angels, Heaven. He gasped for air as voices filled his head—voices that came from everywhere and nowhere all at once. He yanked himself away from Amity. His head pounded and he panted with effort to draw in any oxygen.

He heard Amity’s voice, but he couldn’t focus on the words she said. What was running on repeat in his mind instead was the fact that Amity had lied to him. She hadn’t stumbled across him in the bar, she’d stalked him there. She was in Flint for one reason, and one reason alone—him. The truth of it choked him, made him anxious to be gone. To be anywhere but in the car beside the one who had betrayed him.

Fat tears rolled down Amity's cheek as she watched him carefully. She opened her mouth to talk again, but he held up his hand to stop her. He didn't want to hear more. Not now. Maybe not ever. She'd lied to him. She wasn't a personal trainer. Wasn't a life coach.

She was a fucking angel—an actual, real-life, Heaven-dwelling, haloed, winged angel—and he had no idea how to even begin to process that.

Was everything a lie
?

Gasping down another breath, he twisted around to face the front of the car and his fingers found the keys in the ignition. He wasn’t sure what he was doing—where he was going—he just knew he had to get away. Far away. He had to escape from the noise echoing through his head. Had to escape from Amity and the way she looked at him with fearful eyes like she was just waiting for him to crack—not that he could escape her entirely while she sat in his car. All he could do was hope that if he ignored her for long enough, she’d get the hint and disappear—like she apparently could if the images in his head were anything to go by. Suppressing a shudder, he pushed his focus back onto the car and tried to plan where he might go.

The fierce concentration on his possible route only lasted a few seconds before his anger grew to ridiculous levels. He'd just been thrust smack-bam into the middle of a Heavenly shit-storm without warning or consultation, and he was supposed to be fine with it? He'd had his heart stomped on all because he'd developed a crush on someone who was apparently pre-ordained to fall in love with someone who died fifty years ago. Then the one person who could have actually been his salvation—who he genuinely thought was helping him to heal—had lied to him. She’d made him believe that there was the possibility that she might feel the things for him that he was starting to feel for her and it meant nothing because it was all make-believe.

It was all bullshit
!

“Drew, what are you doing?”

Amity’s voice was the catalyst he needed to actually move somewhere. Steadfastly ignoring her, he pushed the button for the garage door, put the car into gear and reversed out onto the street.

“Drew, talk to me, please.” Amity pleaded beside him. “You're scaring me.”

He scoffed, but still refused to acknowledge her with words. Even as he drove the streets, he wasn’t certain where he was going or why, but he knew talking was the last thing he needed to do. He needed to act out; to hit something—someone—and vent his frustration at the situation he'd unwillingly been forced into.

“Drew, please?” Amity's voice was quiet, almost like she was in tears again.

He didn’t risk a glance to check though, because if he did, his anger would probably simmer away and at that moment, his anger was all he had left.

“I don't think you're coping with this very well.”

He snorted. Of course he wasn't coping with it well. How on earth did anyone expect him to cope with it? The world had just grown a thousand times bigger and more confusing than he’d ever thought it could be. Heaven, Hell, angels and cupids; they were all concepts so far outside the scope of any of Drew’s limited imaginings.

He tried to breathe and stop his chest from burning, but it didn’t stop his heart from aching. It was worse than when Becca had wordlessly confirmed she loved someone else. He scoffed, wondering what she would think if she knew the truth about the fucker who she fell for. Maybe he should enlighten her.

Even as he had the thought, a horrific notion struck him. What if she already knew? What if that was the reason she’d left Drew for Evan? Maybe the little
cupid
could offer her something Drew just couldn’t.

Drew shook off the thought.
She hadn’t known
 . . .
had she
?

He’d arrived at his destination before he’d even consciously planned where he was going.

Amity reached for the steering wheel, yanking him off the road. The car struck the curb with a wicked thump.

Just like the last time I came here, he thought. He knew the reason for that now of course, had seen it all in the flashes he’d absorbed of Amity’s life stalking him.

“Don’t,” he snapped. He turned to her and snarled. “Don’t interfere. Don’t try to stop me. Just. Fucking. Don’t.”

She shrunk away from him. From the information he’d gleaned from her mind, he knew that she had more power than he could imagine. She had the power to strike him dead where he sat, yet she cowered from his anger. Despite that, there was no desire to smite him for his deeds buried in her gaze, just genuine concern. It disarmed him a little; but not enough to stop the course that was set in motion the moment he’d seen the truth. He threw open the car door, not willing to repeat the fuckery that came with his last attempted visit to Becca’s house.

Fuckery of Amity’s doing.

He hit the pavement hard, striding toward Becca’s house with deliberate steps. He didn’t care that it was practically dinnertime. Or that he might be interrupting Evan and Becca doing any number of things in the privacy of her house.

Serves him right if I do stop him from getting lucky. Drew even felt a little glee that the bastard who stole Becca from him might be about to lose her. It was like his hurt was vindicated by being able to inflict pain on someone else. The fact that Becca would then be available again barely registered with Drew—he certainly didn’t want her back. Not anymore. After everything he’d been through, he was just about ready to swear off relationships for life. Even if he wasn’t, a certain blonde had taken over every aspect of his desire at some point.

With Amity right on his heels, he marched down the street toward the little clapboard house that had, for a time, held some good memories for him.

“Drew, stop.” Amity’s voice was compelling. It forced his feet to halt and his body to freeze mid-stride.

He ground his teeth as he tried to will his body back under his control. Truthfully, he should have been concerned that Amity was able to compel him into action—or inaction as it was. It wasn’t his biggest issue though. The fact that she’d taken away his free will was more than he could stand. It reminded him of the first time he’d seen her, of the force pinning him in place and forcing him to notice her. The fact that it had been her the whole time was just fire on the flames of betrayal.

His voice was dangerous and low when he spoke. “If you ever felt anything even remotely like friendship for me, you will let me go. Right now.”

The force compelling him to remain stationery lessened and finally released him from its grip completely.

“Just please don’t hurt them.” Amity’s voice floated to him from behind, a quiet utterance he almost missed completely. He turned back to confirm she’d spoken, but she was already gone.

Good riddance, he thought. The moment the thought passed through him, he regretted it. Even though the relationship hadn’t been exactly what he’d thought it was, he had to admit that Amity had helped him—even if he admitted it begrudgingly. Maybe it wasn’t enough to avoid the sting of the truth completely, but for a time, she had helped.

Covering the last of the distance to Becca’s house in a number of long strides, Drew became possessed by his mission. He pounded on the door with his fist and shouted her name.

The door swung open to reveal Becca, dressed in a pair of flannelette pajamas, staring at him with brows pinched together in concern.

“Drew?”

No, it’s the fucking Easter bunny
.

“What are you doing here?”

“We need to talk.” He pushed past her before she had the chance to argue or slam the door shut in his face.

She let him pass without argument, but her confusion was clear and growing by the second.

“Becca, who is—” Evan asked as he came out from the kitchen. He used a dishtowel to dry his hands before throwing it over his shoulder. There was something a little different about him, but Drew couldn’t put his finger on it. Truth be told, he wasn’t really interested in trying. His question died on his lips as he spotted Drew. His brow pinched and he mashed his mouth into a hard line. “Oh. What do you want?”

A low growl rattled in Drew’s chest and he knew he wouldn’t be able to form any words to that fucking cupid, so he turned his back on Evan and moved closer to Becca. “Did you know?”

She met his gaze before her eyes flicked over his shoulder, no doubt searching out Evan.

“Know what?” she asked with an almost practiced caution.

“Did you know about him?” Drew waved his arm behind him in the direction he knew Evan stood.

Her skin paled and her gaze sought Evan more desperately. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Bullshit!”

Becca jumped at Drew’s explosive shout, but he couldn’t feel sorry for her. She’d known that there was a bigger picture. She’d known about Heaven’s apparent plan. It was obvious in her eyes and clear from her lying lips. She’d known what Evan was, what he was doing and what he was capable of, yet she’d still strung Drew along. Even after everything had come out, after Drew had been left heartbroken and ready to beg for a second chance, she hadn’t taken two fucking seconds to tell him the truth—that he’d never stood a snowflake’s chance in Hell of winning her heart. That he’d been marked as the pathetic loser who’d get his heart broken by her even before they’d uttered a single word at his welcome home party.

Drew’s hands shook and he still couldn’t seem to get his breathing under control.

“Drew, maybe we should talk in private.” It was Evan’s voice from behind him that spoke.

Drew spun toward him, a response ready on his lips; a string of cuss words ready to fly at a moment’s notice and a threat agreeing to a private
talk
outside.

“No!” Becca leapt forward and grabbed Drew’s shoulder before he could take a step or utter a single one of the words he’d prepared.

Drew jolted at her touch, as it brought him crashing back to Earth. What was he doing? Why had he gone to Becca’s house? He was only torturing himself.

Why was he still there?

He’d just needed her to admit the truth, even though he knew it wouldn’t change a damn thing. He turned back toward Becca and lifted his gaze to meet hers, imploring her to be honest. “Did you know what he is?”

“Was.” It was her only response, and it confused Drew even more.

“What exactly is that supposed to mean?” he snapped as frustration boiled in him once more.

“It means that whatever you think you might have learned about me probably isn’t quite true anymore.” Evan’s voice was steady, lulling, but lacked the compelling quality it had held before—the same quality Amity’s voice had held when she’d tried to stop him.

Drew spun on him. “So you’re not a cupid sent from Heaven to fuck up my life?”

“No. Not anymore.”

Drew felt his lips curling into a sneer and he was ready to leap.

Evan put his hands up in a gesture of peace. “What I mean is, I can see why you’d think that, but you have to understand there was no malicious intent.” He smiled and issued a small chuckle. “Well, at least not at first. I can’t say I didn’t want you out of the picture once I’d realized how desperately I loved Becca though.”

He looked over at Becca with such love and reverence that Drew wanted nothing more than to smack him in the mouth to wipe the look off his face. Drew’s teeth ground together audibly and Evan looked back at him.

“But it was never our intention for you to be stuck in the middle of everything going on. Neither of us wanted you to be hurt.”

During Evan’s speech, Becca had crossed to his side and taken his hand. She returned his love-struck look with a matching one of her own.

“Becca has a voice, doesn’t she?” Drew said, glaring at Becca.

Becca drew Evan’s hand in front of her, almost as a shield, and clasped it between both of her own. “I do. But Evan knows what I want to say.”

“Which is?”

“That I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you, Drew. It’s just that Evan”—she turned to look at him with a matching reverential stare—“well, he
was
a cupid, but he was never actually assigned to match me up with anyone else. It’s just that neither of us really understood what that meant until it was too late.”