Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 71396 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 286(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71396 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 286(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
I pull out my earbuds and find the house quiet when I step inside. My dad’s already at work and Mum’s at the market picking up ingredients for dinner. I checked with Graham and Leanne again this morning before I left for my run—still no sign of Lance. They promised to call the moment he turned up, but at this point, I’m starting to think my desire to get this all handled is going to be a bust.
I grab a tall glass, fill it to the brim with ice and water, and drink it in long, greedy gulps. My mind isn’t preoccupied with Lance’s failure to show so much as Reid being in Suzuka by himself. He’s giving me space and respect for my decision to handle this, but I also know he’s hurt by it.
For that, I can’t blame him. I’d promised I would go to Suzuka. Instead, I flew back to my ex. He has the right to be hurt I’m not there.
I think what breaks my heart even more is knowing that he’s in distress because he’s not here with me. He’s being protective, which I appreciate, but he absolutely cannot afford to be distracted. In his line of work, one slipup could mean serious injury or death.
The few days away from our cocoon we’d been living in is making it seem like we’re drifting—not emotionally, not really—just paused.
A surge of anger hits me, because Lance doesn’t have the decency to come meet me to talk about things. I’ve texted him and so have his parents. He’s not responded to any of us.
But I don’t have to stay here if I don’t want to.
Why should I when he can’t even be bothered?
My phone’s already in hand when I drop into the kitchen chair, fingers pulling up my airline app. I scroll through flights to Japan, weighing my options. I could give Lance one more day and then fly out. I’d make it in time for the practice sessions and Reid would be surprised but thrilled. It would mean walking away from this half-finished chapter with Lance, but maybe that’s not such a bad thing.
Maybe he doesn’t deserve closure.
My thumb hovers over a direct flight option when the sharp knock hits the door.
Once.
Twice.
Then three more times in quick, impatient succession. Too firm to be friendly. Too early for delivery.
Somehow, before I even reach the front door my stomach twists into a hard knot. I know who it is before I open it, but I confirm by looking through the peephole first.
As anticipated, it’s Lance and he looks like hell.
His eyes are bloodshot, his jaw unshaven, and the clothes he’s wearing are wrinkled and rumpled, like he hasn’t slept in them so much as existed in them. His hair is flattened on one side and wild on the other.
I’d hoped we’d talk later today—over at his parents’ house, maybe with someone around to help keep things civil. I had not envisioned he would seek me out. Not like this. Not on my parents’ porch while they’re both gone.
My heart thuds against my ribs and I embrace the fear. I hate that I even have it, but yeah… I’m afraid of him. He looked unhinged in Zurich, and I realize I don’t trust him at all.
The wisest thing to do would be to ignore him and hope he goes away. I can catch up with him later over at the Hemsworths’ home.
But I think about Reid, without me in Suzuka, and my pressing need to close this chapter of my life pulls forth a reserve of courage.
And it may be stupidity, but I open the main door while holding the screen shut with one hand. “Lance,” I say carefully and his eyes lock onto mine through the mesh. “I wasn’t expecting you here.”
“Yeah, well… I wasn’t expecting a lot of things.” His voice is rough, like gravel. “But here we are.”
I flush with guilt but swallow it down. You’ve done nothing wrong, Lara.
Unless you count moving on with your ex-fiancé’s brother mere days after you broke off the engagement.
I should make him leave and set up a time we can talk. But he’s here right now, and this can all end. I can fly to Japan and be with Reid.
I glance past Lance, scanning the street. No car. He must’ve walked. He shifts on the step and my stomach flutters with nerves. He’s twitchy. Jumpy.
“Can I come in?” he asks.
I don’t want to do this alone but he’s already here. And as much as I don’t feel threatened exactly… there’s a tightness under my ribs that hasn’t been there since the night I left him.
Maybe against my better judgment, I unhook the latch and push the door open. “Just to talk.”
He stares at me and I wonder what’s so difficult about the boundary I’ve set… just to talk. But he eventually nods and brushes past me, into the living room like he owns it. Like nothing’s changed. I leave the door slightly ajar—just in case.