Things Remembered (Accidentally On Purpose Companion Novel #3) by L.D. Davis

gap between us. “You wouldn’t have stopped and asked me what I wanted. You want to talk to me, but you’re too stubborn to admit it.”
    “Fuck you,” I spat. I turned to leave, but he smoothly stepped in front of me.
    I let out a frustrated growl and took a step back from him.
    “If you’re waiting for me to thank you for saving my life, you will be waiting a very long time.”
    At first, he seemed taken aback by my comment, but that passed. His eyes narrowed and his jaw tightened.
    “I didn’t ask for your thanks.” His voice sounded soft and rough at the same time. “Not only have I not asked you for a damn thing, Mayson, but here I am trying to give you something.”
    “You asked to talk to me. You asked to have a few minutes with me.”
    He shook his head from side to side three times, slow and purposeful. “I didn’t ask you, Baby Girl. I told you.”
    I missed a breath at the sound of the familiar endearment, but I didn’t swoon. It only fueled the fire of fury that burned in my chest.
    “You don’t get to tell me anything, Grant Alexander, and don’t call me that!” I leaned forward, pointing a finger at his chest as I let my words fly. “Why the hell do you want to talk to me? You want to remind me of the horrible things I’ve done and make me feel shame and less than human? Because I don’t need you to remind me, Grant. There are enough people in my life to remind me. Hell, I remind me every time I look in the mirror. I don’t need you to—”
    My harsh words fell away with a brief, surprised sound when Grant’s hand shot out and gripped my upper arm. Roughly, he pulled me so close that our bodies were almost touching.
    I sucked in a deep, shuddering breath and stared up at him in alarm. My heart thrashed in my chest as fear washed over me. I wasn’t afraid of Grant, but it was my body’s automatic response to the unexpected closeness of a male. Fuzzy images of hands holding me and hands touching me zipped through my head.
    My anxiety must have been written all over my face because Grant’s expression changed to mild alarm and confusion. He released my arm but didn’t give me the space I needed.
    “Listen to me,” he demanded, his voice dark. “Don’t project your fear, self-disgust, and inability to forgive yourself onto me. Maybe it’s been a long time, but if you ever truly knew me, you’d know I would never beat you down for your past sins.”
    My breaths were quick with anxiety and my heart continued to race, even though I felt more bewildered than scared.
    “But…but you blame me for—”
    “I don’t blame you for anything,” Grant said harshly. “ You feel the weight of responsibility I have never assigned to you. I am not here to blame you, shame you, or to make you feel any worse than you already do. I am here because I have thought about what it would be like to see you again a million times over the years. I am here, Mayson, because I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since I first saw you in the coffee shop.” His voice and his eyes softened. “I want to know the new you. I want to know the woman you’ve become.”
    I looked away again, which made me so angry. I never looked away, never backed down. People didn’t get to make me feel uncomfortable.
    I looked down at our feet. With my voice quiet and bitter, I said, “Maybe I’m still the same broken, useless, and worthless person you left behind all those years ago.”
    A light touch to my chin made my head tilt up. I wanted to bat his hand away and yell at him for touching me without my permission, but instead, I just stared stupidly into his brown eyes as he spoke quietly.
    “You were never worthless to me.”
    For a long moment, we simply looked at each other. I think I forgot to breathe, because when he finally released me and took a step back, I let out a long, explosive breath.
    Again, Grant held out the coffee and slightly crumpled bag. Dumbly, I took the items from him.
    “Look,”