Just A Woman (The Porter Trilogy Book 2) by Shannon Youngblood Page B
Authors: Shannon Youngblood
Ads: Link
waiting behind me. I stepped away from her, immediately feeling the loss of her heat and her love, and it almost made my knees crumble.
I walked to the back of the church and exited through the doors to get some much needed air into my lungs. I was finally going to get the opportunity to tell her how sorry I was, face to face, and the realization scared the shit out of me. I found Bracks in the parking lot and told him the plan. It took every ounce of my self-control not to wipe the smirk off of his arrogant face. He knew, as much as I knew, that I had fucked up, and he was going to enjoy watching me squirm. She deserved the apology, that was indisputable, but apologizing still made me uncomfortable, no matter how much it was warranted. Leaning up against the sedan, I waited for her to emerge, and finally, after weeks of waiting, walk back into my life.
Chapter 9
Alex
If I had thought that my appearance at her father’s funeral, coupled with my heartfelt card and my sheer diligence would have made Charlotte fall into my arms, then I would have been dead wrong. When she exited the church half an hour later, her eyes were puffy and red and she looked ragged and defeated. It killed me to not run to her and take her into my arms and console her. I wanted nothing more than to replace her tragedy stricken face with one of love and passion, but right now was not the time, and I didn’t want to push her too soon or too fast.
She wearily walked up to me and gave me a small smile. “Thanks for coming Alex, I really do appreciate it,” she said, her voice soft, and breaking throughout. It ripped me to pieces.
I nodded at her, unsure of what to say to that. I had never been good with grief, especially someone else's. “Would you like a ride to the cafe with Bracks and me?” I asked, hoping she would say yes, but not wanting to ambush her. She had to make her own decision, no matter how I felt, or what I wanted at the time.
She looked ready to argue, a small flicker of life behind her tired eyes; a spark I had not seen in weeks. Something I had not realized I had missed. When you think of missing someone, you rarely think of missing someone’s attitude or fire, but I knew in that moment that it was one of the things I missed the most about Charlotte. I could tell that all she wanted to do was snap at me and tell me that she could, in fact, drive herself, but, all too soon, the fire went out, and she bowed her head. “Yeah, sure, thank you,” she mumbled.
I clenched and unclenched my fists several times to relieve the pressure around my heart and reduce the anger coursing through me. The anger not directed at her, but at the loss of that something within Charlotte that made her who she was. I wanted to hug her and I wanted to throttle her at the same time. That fire in her was what attracted me to her from the beginning, and I couldn’t bear to watch her give up and fall apart. I understood the need to grieve but she couldn’t lose what made her her.
The ride to the cafe was tense, and even though her presence calmed me, warmth I had not felt in a few weeks, mine didn’t seem to have the same effect on her. I watched as she continued to wring her hands in her lap and stare out the window at nothing in particular. I had never wanted the power of mind reading more than I did in that moment. Was she thinking about me? Or was she thinking about her father and his funeral? I decided to attempt a conversation to see if I could pull her from her musings to interact with me.
“You look beautiful, Charlotte,” I said, watching as she turned around in her seat to face me. I watched as her cheeks flamed when she caught my eye, before she lowered her head and whispered her words of thanks, turning her back to me again to look out the window.
My anger grew again and I worked hard to get it under control. The last thing I needed to do was to get angry with her, because I wasn’t mad at her. I was disappointed she had let herself
I walked to the back of the church and exited through the doors to get some much needed air into my lungs. I was finally going to get the opportunity to tell her how sorry I was, face to face, and the realization scared the shit out of me. I found Bracks in the parking lot and told him the plan. It took every ounce of my self-control not to wipe the smirk off of his arrogant face. He knew, as much as I knew, that I had fucked up, and he was going to enjoy watching me squirm. She deserved the apology, that was indisputable, but apologizing still made me uncomfortable, no matter how much it was warranted. Leaning up against the sedan, I waited for her to emerge, and finally, after weeks of waiting, walk back into my life.
Chapter 9
Alex
If I had thought that my appearance at her father’s funeral, coupled with my heartfelt card and my sheer diligence would have made Charlotte fall into my arms, then I would have been dead wrong. When she exited the church half an hour later, her eyes were puffy and red and she looked ragged and defeated. It killed me to not run to her and take her into my arms and console her. I wanted nothing more than to replace her tragedy stricken face with one of love and passion, but right now was not the time, and I didn’t want to push her too soon or too fast.
She wearily walked up to me and gave me a small smile. “Thanks for coming Alex, I really do appreciate it,” she said, her voice soft, and breaking throughout. It ripped me to pieces.
I nodded at her, unsure of what to say to that. I had never been good with grief, especially someone else's. “Would you like a ride to the cafe with Bracks and me?” I asked, hoping she would say yes, but not wanting to ambush her. She had to make her own decision, no matter how I felt, or what I wanted at the time.
She looked ready to argue, a small flicker of life behind her tired eyes; a spark I had not seen in weeks. Something I had not realized I had missed. When you think of missing someone, you rarely think of missing someone’s attitude or fire, but I knew in that moment that it was one of the things I missed the most about Charlotte. I could tell that all she wanted to do was snap at me and tell me that she could, in fact, drive herself, but, all too soon, the fire went out, and she bowed her head. “Yeah, sure, thank you,” she mumbled.
I clenched and unclenched my fists several times to relieve the pressure around my heart and reduce the anger coursing through me. The anger not directed at her, but at the loss of that something within Charlotte that made her who she was. I wanted to hug her and I wanted to throttle her at the same time. That fire in her was what attracted me to her from the beginning, and I couldn’t bear to watch her give up and fall apart. I understood the need to grieve but she couldn’t lose what made her her.
The ride to the cafe was tense, and even though her presence calmed me, warmth I had not felt in a few weeks, mine didn’t seem to have the same effect on her. I watched as she continued to wring her hands in her lap and stare out the window at nothing in particular. I had never wanted the power of mind reading more than I did in that moment. Was she thinking about me? Or was she thinking about her father and his funeral? I decided to attempt a conversation to see if I could pull her from her musings to interact with me.
“You look beautiful, Charlotte,” I said, watching as she turned around in her seat to face me. I watched as her cheeks flamed when she caught my eye, before she lowered her head and whispered her words of thanks, turning her back to me again to look out the window.
My anger grew again and I worked hard to get it under control. The last thing I needed to do was to get angry with her, because I wasn’t mad at her. I was disappointed she had let herself
Similar Books
