Tyler skidded to a halt and whirled at the sound. But the fear on her face vanished as he cornered her.
“Leave me alone.”
“Not a chance. You’ve never walked out of a rehearsal in your life. What the hell happened back there?” he demanded.
Somewhere during her escape, she’d stopped crying and found a thread of temper. Color rode high in her cheeks and her eyes sparked as she glared at him. Thank God for it. He could deal with anger and relished the idea of a fight to clear the air.
“Why couldn’t you just stay away? Why did you have to come back here and ruin everything?”
What kind of alternate reality had he landed in? “Why are you pissed at me, Tyler? It was your decision.”
She gaped at him. “What was my decision? You left, Brody.”
“Yes, I left. And you didn’t follow.”
“How was I supposed to follow? You didn’t say a word. Not where you were going, not why, not goodbye. God, I worried myself sick for months before somebody caught wind that you hadn’t died in a ditch somewhere. And I got it. I got that it hurt to stay here after your folks died. I got that you needed space to figure things out. But did you have to be so cruel about it? You could not possibly have made it more abundantly clear that Wishful wasn’t enough for you. That I wasn’t enough for you.”
It was his turn to gape. “I waited for you to come to me in Paris.”
“Paris? What are you talking about?”
“I sent you a plane ticket. And instructions for you to meet me at the top of the Eiffel Tower.” He’d waited there, in the whipping wind, ring burning a hole in his pocket all day and into the night, until they’d kicked him out because they were shutting down the elevator until the next day.
“When?”
“Right before I left town. I put it in the mail drop at the Grind and went to the airport. I thought you’d be right behind me.”
Tyler stared.
“You never got it.” It wasn’t a question. Not with that shattered expression on her face. A pit opened in his stomach, full of dawning dread.
“Dave Lautner took out the mail drop when he plowed into the front of the coffee shop. It happened the day you left.”
Brody thought of the handsome patio seating and changed entrance. The plane ticket tied to his future had been destroyed in a freak accident, and he’d been too goddamned pig-headed to follow up when she hadn’t come. Jesus H. Christ, I’m an idiot. Brody closed his eyes.
“I thought when you didn’t come,” he said quietly, “it was your way of saying you didn’t want to be with me. That I was too damaged for you after everything that had happened. I know how much you hate confrontations.”
Tyler sputtered with incredulity. “Mail gets lost all the time. Why didn’t you call or write…something?”
“I…was hurt and angry and so, so completely stupid.”
Eight years. I wasted eight years and lost her over my damned fool pride.
Brody waited for recriminations. Because, yeah, this was entirely his fault. He’d cut ties and never looked back, never asked for an explanation, never pulled his head out of his ass to confront her. But there was something else in her face as she looked up at him.
A fragile hope.
“You wanted me to come with you?” she whispered.
He didn’t touch her. He was too afraid she might break. But the answer came easily. “Always.”
“All these years,” she murmured, arms wrapping around her middle. “All these years, I wondered what I’d done to make you stop loving me.”
The stark pain on her face made him bleed. He said her name, and he didn’t know if it was apology or plea because the tears were slipping down her cheeks again. “I never stopped loving you. Ever.”
She laid a hand over her heart and rubbed. “I don’t know if that’s wonderful or heart-breaking. Eight years, Brody. I’ve spent twice as long as we were together believing the absolute worst of you, doing everything in my power not to love you. How can I feel this much, when it’s been eight years?” she demanded.
Hope lit inside him like a rocket. Because he couldn’t stand it anymore, he reached for her, gratified when she hesitated only a moment before burrowing in and holding on.