Blue Horizons (A Horizons Novel Book 1) (36 page)

Sitting on the couch, my heart races as I stare at the clock. My knee is bouncing up and down and my fingers are working overtime as they tap a rhythm on my leg. I wasn’t prepared to see him today. It’s like I need to be in a certain mental state, and I’m just not there yet.

And of course Emma sprinted out of here, leaving me alone. She claimed she had to meet someone, and now here I am, feeling like I’m sitting in the lion’s den.

How does he even know where I live? I don’t remember telling him. Maybe Emma did. Ugh . . .

Twenty-nine minutes.

The doorbell rings.

My heart leaps into my throat, I gasp, and my eyes dart to the door. It startles me even though I knew it was coming.

He’s on the other side of the door!

Taking a deep breath, I wipe my hands across my thighs to dry them off and calm them, and I get up to answer the door.

As I open it, my eyes drop to his feet. I’m so nervous.

Blood is pounding through my ears and I feel instantly sucked into his orbit. I’m in love with this guy, and it’s been two weeks of complete heartache. I want nothing more than to walk into his arms and have him make it all better.

Slowly dragging my eyes up, I soak him in. He’s wearing chunky, black, retro boots, well-worn designer jeans, he’s wrapped in a navy pea coat with a navy and green plaid scarf tied around his neck, and topped off with a navy beanie.

His height, the lines of his arms, the thickness of his legs—all of him—my body hums with familiarity for his.

Settling my eyes on his, he’s watching me closely with those gorgeous blue eyes of his that seem to pop out amongst all the navy. Brown pieces of hair are sticking out from under the hat, his face is clean-shaven, and his lips are red from the bitter cold outside.

Just the sight of him causes an ache way down deep in the pit of my stomach. He’s just so much more than anything I have ever seen. I can’t breathe.

With his eyes locked onto mine, he pinches his lips together, and rocks back on his heels.

“Do you want to come in?” I fumble, opening the door a little wider and hanging on to it for support. Tank runs around my feet, growls at him, and wags her tail at the same time.

“No,” he says quietly, but firmly.

My heart sinks with disappointment.

Taking in a deep breath, his cheeks flush and his eyes brighten with an unspoken emotion. “I just wanted to come and drop this off. I know I could have mailed it, but it was important for me to give to you.” He pulls a box from behind his back and holds it out to me. It’s the size of a shirt box, and I’m confused.

“You bought me a Christmas present?” I look back up to his face.

He looks off to the side and swallows. “No, not really. But it is something that I wanted to give to you, and only you.” He frowns through his words, and my heart sinks knowing I’m the one who’s made him this unhappy.

Carefully, I take the box from him and hug it to my chest. He’s wrapped it in silver paper and tied it with a red bow. A lump forms in my throat along with the inevitable sting of tears.

“Thank you,” I whisper, trying to hold it together.

Did he really travel here just to give me this? My arms tighten around the box. I know he’s not going to take it back, but I feel the need to grip on to it just in case. It’s something tangible from him, and even though I have no idea what’s in it, it doesn’t even matter. This present means more to me than he’ll ever understand.

THERE ARE TEARS in her eyes.

Why are there tears in her eyes?

Is she crying because she feels guilty for leaving me? Is she crying because her heart aches just as much as mine does? Or is she crying because she feels awkward and doesn’t want to deal with me at all?

I don’t understand, and her shutting me out has made me feel terrible.

Shit!

Needing to put some space between us, I take a step back from the doorway and shove my hands in my front pockets. I don’t trust them enough to not reach for her, and there’s a good possibility if I touch her, I might never let go. Looking at the ground, I suck in another deep breath and then allow my eyes to drift up the length of her.

I wasn’t going to—take her in with my eyes, that is—but I can’t help it.

I was only going to focus on her face, give her the gift, and leave. Looking at her affects me. It affects every nerve, every cell, and every atom in me. Can’t she see what she does to me? I feel like a starved man that can only be nourished by her, and two weeks is a long time to go without food.

She looks like my Ava, and my heart breaks. I want this girl, and I want her for forever.

Her hair is super curly, her lips are glossy, she’s wearing an off-the-shoulder pink sweater, skinny jeans, and her toenails are painted bright red.

Damn, she is so beautiful.

On top of all of that, she’s baked something. She looks like home and smells like home, but yet she’s not my home. My broken heart sinks to my stomach and is immediately consumed by something so much deeper than despair.

“Avery . . .” my voice is hoarse and my words trail off. It’s not lost on her that I used her given name, and not our nickname, as her eyebrows rise slightly.

I have so much I want to say to her and so many questions to ask. I thought I knew how this conversation was going to go down, but now that I’m here standing in front of her, my mind is racing and it won’t stop long enough to make a coherent thought.

“At any point—since I’ve known you—have I been unkind to you?”

Her eyes widen, she looks away from me, and swallows. “No,” she whispers.

“Have I ever lied to you?” I ask. I need her to tell me something—anything—as to why she left.

She tilts her head, a shadow crosses over her face, and she pauses, contemplating her answer. “You lied about your name and who you are.”

That can’t be what she was thinking, and that’s not fair. My eyes narrow and a streak of frustration pulses through me. My hands fist in my pockets.

“No, I didn’t.” I need a few seconds to calm my emotions, and her eyes on me are making it worse. I love her eyes. “The two people who mean the most to me in the whole world, my grandfather and Clay, both call me Ash. That’s my name. I never led you to believe it was something different. And we both agreed to set our professional lives to the side.”

I want to point out that it was actually her who lied about her name, but that won’t do us any good. I’m not here to get into a pissing match with her; I’m here to give her the gift and try and get some answers.

She doesn’t say anything, she really can’t. In all honesty, we’ve moved past the name thing, so I’m not sure why she brought it up.

“Why won’t you text me back?”

The shadow returns and her features darken. Whoa, I didn’t think my texting her would make her angry. With every one that I’ve sent, I’ve spent an unhealthy amount of time staring at my phone just hoping she would respond.

Her eyes lock onto mine, blue to blue, and I hold my breath waiting to hear her response.

“What about Juliet?” she asks, punctuating the syllables of her name.

Juliet!

Is this the reason for all of the miscommunication and the silent treatment? No, it can’t be. Juliet is . . . Juliet. Anyone who knows the band, knows her. She’s been with us step-by-step since the very beginning, and there’s no secret to our relationship. Her mentioning Juliet is just another diversion to avoid telling me what the real problem is.

“What about her?” I ask, suddenly angry.

She sees the shift in my mood and she pales. I’m confused. What’s happening here?

“You know what? It doesn’t even matter,” she says with a resigned tone, dropping her gaze.

What?

Anger and disappointment swirl through me. Why won’t this girl talk to me? It’s been weeks and I’ve tried, I really have. Whatever. No more.

“You’re right, I guess it doesn’t matter.” A defeated sigh escapes me. “I thought you and I were . . . something more. Apparently not.” My lips press into a thin line and my head shakes.

Her eyes flash up to mine and tears linger at the edge. I hate those tears, but I hate how I feel even more—pathetic. I shouldn’t have come here. I thought this would be easier; I thought I’d get some answers. I thought wrong.

I take another step back and memorize her beautiful face, one last time.

“Ash . . .” she says taking a step closer to me.

“Merry Christmas, Avery.”

With my head down, I turn and walk down the hall, away from her, and to the elevator. How is it possible to be completely in love with a girl, yet so angry at her at the same time? Never in my life did I think I would ever be in a situation like this—and because of Juliet. That’s what this is all about, right?

This just sucks. I’m thirty years old and pining over a girl that’s made it crystal clear over the last two weeks that she doesn’t want me.

Leaving her building, flurries drift through the air, and I look for Clay. He was going to come up with me to see Emma, but he got distracted on the way in and changed his mind. I don’t know what it was, but it didn’t matter, I just needed to see her.

And I did.

I saw her and she saw me.

It’s funny, because over the last couple of years, I’ve felt like something was missing from my life, from me, and I always thought, “How do you miss something you’ve never had?” Because if I’d known what it was I was missing, I would’ve found it. Well, now I know, only it didn’t want to be found. And now here I am, walking down the cold street by myself wishing I was anywhere but here.