Never Let You Go (Never #2) Read online

  More like he wanted to find a way to be close to me.

  “You look good,” he says as I approach the table. I don’t return the compliment, suddenly feeling shy.

  “Extra thirsty this morning?” I point at the four to-go cups sitting in the cardboard tray. “Or am I having unexpected company?”

  He smiles. “I wasn’t sure what you might want.”

  “So you brought a variety?” I raise my brows.

  “Two for you, two for me.” He looks sheepish. “Though I’m probably hopped up on enough coffee already. I’ve been guzzling it since four.”

  “In the morning?” I reach for one of the coffees and pull it from the tray, reading the side of the cup. “A vanilla latte. One of my favorites.”

  Ethan nods toward the pink box. “Check out what I brought you. Make sure it meets with your approval first.”

  I set the latte down and pry off the pink lid, sucking in a breath when I see what’s inside. Nothing but chocolate doughnuts with sprinkles, but such a wide variety of them my heart actually skips with delight when I take them all in.

  Three are Halloween-themed ones with black and orange sprinkles and doughnuts with a fall theme with orange and yellow sprinkles. Others are either solid pink, or white, and a few rainbow sprinkle–covered ones are in there, too. I count the doughnuts, realizing we definitely have over a dozen. I glance up at him, my gaze meeting his once more.

  “A dozen and a half,” he tells me, like he can read my mind. “I wanted to cover all my bases.”

  “This is . . .” My voice drifts and I shake my head. “Amazing. Thank you.”

  “Thank you for letting me come over.” He hesitates, shifting on his feet. “Truth? I figured I’d never see you again.”

  “I don’t think we can fight it any longer,” I tell him quietly as I pull a chair out and settle in. Grabbing a doughnut out of the box, I snag a napkin from the nearby holder and set the doughnut on top of it. “Plus I wanted to talk to you.”

  “What about?” He sits across the table from me, grabs a doughnut, one with orange sprinkles on top, and takes a big bite out of it.

  “My sister. She told me she talked to you yesterday.”

  He pauses in his chewing, then swallows. “Yeah.” His voice is raw. “She did.”

  I almost don’t want to ask, but I have to know. “What did she say?”

  “She’s watching out for you. That’s all.”

  “That’s not enough.” I shake my head, frustrated. “Tell me what she said.”

  The pain that fills his gaze tells me she said awful, horrible things. Things he probably doesn’t want me to know about. “Let’s just say that Brenna doesn’t like me very much. And the truth—it hurts.”

  I can say nothing in return.

  We’re quiet as we eat our doughnuts, separately contemplating the conversation with Brenna. I have no idea what was said, while Ethan knows that she said too much, took it too far.

  “I didn’t ask her to do that,” I say after what felt like hours of uncomfortable silence, but was most likely only a minute.

  “I know you didn’t. But she said some things we have to consider.”

  I was contemplating having a second doughnut, but my appetite evaporates at his tone. “Like what?”

  “Like the fact that we probably shouldn’t be together.”

  “Then why are you here?” I lift my gaze to his, rubbing my thumb under the plastic lid of the to-go cup, flicking it back and forth.

  “Because you call or text and I will always come running, Katie,” he admits, his dark gaze locked with mine. The air expels from my lungs in one solid exhalation, taking with it my heart, my soul. The way he says that, the look in his eyes, tells me he’s sincere.

  He would do anything for me, regardless of whether I wanted his help or not. He’d just . . . be there.

  “I know,” I whisper. “And that’s not fair of me, taking advantage of you.” I pause, then decide to go for it. “What happened with the interview?”

  “With Lisa?” He makes an irritated face, his mouth drawing into a thin line. “I don’t want to talk to her. We’re just opening old wounds, Katie.”

  “You want to move on?”

  “I’ve always wanted to move on. It’s never been about the past, not for me. The connection we have is real and was formed all those years ago, but there’s more to us than what we suffered through together. You have to realize this,” he says, his gaze pleading.

  His words touch me deeply. I know he’s right, but it’s still hard for me to put together that Will and Ethan are one and the same.

  “Do you want another doughnut?” He nudges the box toward me and I stare at it. His abrupt change of subject is startling. Clearly he doesn’t want to talk about this.

  Slowly I shake my head. “I think I’ll wait for later. Thank you for bringing them. They’re beautiful.”

  He smiles. “I’ve never heard doughnuts described as beautiful before.”

  “Well, they are, with their variety of colors.” I lean back in my chair, admiring him. “I like the hat.”

  “Ah.” He rests his hand on top of it, then tugs it off, leaving his dark hair an adorable mess. “I forgot I had it on. It was cold this morning.”

  “Yeah, it was.” I tilt my head, cross my arms in front of my chest. “What did you have planned today?”

  He looks startled by my question. “What do you mean?”

  “It’s going to be a beautiful Saturday. I wondered if you had any plans.” I shrug, hoping he thinks my question is casual.

  It’s not.

  “You know what I really want to do?”

  “Definitely.”

  “I wanted to go see about a dog.”

  I frown at him. “A dog?”

  “Yeah. Go to the local animal shelter and find one to bring home. Not a cute puppy, though. Everyone gets one of those. I’m looking for a dog who’s like a year or two old and doesn’t have a chance in hell of getting adopted.” His eyes grow dim. “I want to save the one nobody else wants.”

  Of course he does. Because he thinks of himself as the one nobody else wants.

  “But it’s just an idea,” he says with a shrug. “I probably won’t go through with it.”

  “You should,” I tell him quietly.

  “You think so?” He raises a brow. “You should probably get one, too.”

  “Oh, I don’t know about that.” I’ve thought about having a pet, but I never manage to get around to finding one. A dog might be too high maintenance. I’d probably do better with a cat.

  “A dog would make you feel safe. Warn you if there was someone coming to your door or hanging around your house at night.” He pauses, his gaze intense. “I don’t like thinking of you here all alone, Katie.”

  Last night’s uneasy feeling comes back with a vengeance. “I’m fine.”

  “You lock your doors, right? I don’t mean just at night, but all the time.”

  “Of course.” Why is he asking me these questions now? It’s as if he knows I was quietly freaking out last night. That’s probably why I couldn’t sleep. Plus I have a lot on my mind. It never seems to stop spinning; it doesn’t matter what time it is. “I’m beyond cautious.”

  “Good,” he says with a finality that sounds very possessive and makes me feel fluttery and nervous. Which is stupid, because I should not be aroused by his protectiveness over me.

  But I am.

  “Consider a dog, though. There’s no such thing as having too much protection,” he continues.

  I nod, sitting forward so I can grab my coffee and finish it off. “I could go with you today to look at dogs, if you want. Help you pick him out.” I need to lighten the mood. I don’t like thinking I need a dog to keep me safe.

  “A him, huh?”

  “Or a sweet, sweet girl. Whatever you prefer.” I tap my fingers on the table, liking the idea of Ethan with a dog. He doesn’t have anyone. No family, no friends. I hate thinking of him moving through
his life alone. He’s already done it for too long. “It would be fun.”

  His expression turns somber. “You want to go with me and help me pick out my new dog, Katie?”

  “Yes,” I whisper, my gaze dropping when I see him reach out and rest his hand on top of mine. His fingers skim across the back of my hand, sending a scattering of tingles in their wake, and I marvel at the power his touch has over me.

  And how I always crave more of it.

  “Then let’s go.” His hand drops away and he stands, as do I, fighting the disappointment that swamps me at the loss of his touch.

  There will be more opportunities, I tell myself. This isn’t the end.

  This could be just the beginning.

  I’ve never seen a nicer day. The sky is so blue it almost looks fake, with only the occasional fluffy white cloud floating by. The sun is bright but the breeze is cool, and somehow I convinced Katie to come back with me so I could go to my local animal shelter rather than hers.

  I wanted to find a dog from my area. Some left-behind, kicked-when-he-was-already-down beast of a mutt. With friendly eyes and a wagging tail. I’ll know when I find the right one. It’ll be a dog that will snag my heart the moment I lay eyes on it.

  Sort of how Katie snagged my heart. From the moment I saw her, I knew I had to take care of her. In some inherent way, I knew she belonged to me.

  It just took me years to find her again.

  Is it wrong of me to want her to forget the past and focus on who we are now? Probably. I know she’s still having a hard time processing that I’m Will. Though I don’t like thinking of myself with that name anymore. I’ve moved on. It was easier that way, leaving the old me behind and never looking back.

  “The ocean looks beautiful,” she murmurs, her head turned toward her partially opened window, her hair flying everywhere. “The sun is so bright it’s making the water sparkle like diamonds.”

  I try to keep my eyes on the road, but it’s hard. I’d rather stare at Katie, or look at the ocean to the west of the highway, just beyond the low rolling hills and the town spread out before it. Gripping the steering wheel tighter, I force myself to face forward.

  We’ve made small talk for most of the drive. Nothing too serious, nothing personal; it’s easier that way. But I want to talk about more. I want to talk about us. I just don’t know if I can.

  I don’t even know if there really is an “us.”

  We talk about our favorite breeds, Katie googling various types of dogs and flashing her phone at me when she finds one she likes. It feels good; it’s so normal, acting like this. Just another Saturday between two people who like each other. No pressure. No heaviness.

  I need that right now. I think Katie does, too.

  “You might not be able to take the dog home right away,” Katie says, her brows scrunched low as she reads something on her phone. “It might even take a few weeks.”

  “That sucks.” I wanted to bring the dog home today. Go to a pet store and load up on treats, supplies, and a toy or two. I need the distraction. I need to focus on something else for a change.

  “Or maybe you will.” Katie tucks her hair behind her ear, most of it flying around her face once again since she has her window cracked. “I guess we’ll find out.”

  Within ten minutes of arriving in town I find the animal shelter. It’s busy, the parking lot full of cars, and we venture inside together, going to the front desk to say we want to look at the dogs.

  The woman behind the counter smiles at the two of us and hands us a sheet of paper explaining the steps to adoption, along with an application.

  Frowning, I meet the woman’s gaze. “Application?”

  She nods, her smile never faltering. “We have to make sure you can provide the proper living situation for your future pet. For example, if you live in a tiny apartment, we wouldn’t recommend you adopting a German shepherd.”

  “Makes sense,” I murmur as I look over the application. The woman hands me a pen and a clipboard, then waves her fingers toward the chairs lined up against the wall.

  “Have a seat, fill out the application, and when you’re done, someone will show you to the back.”

  Katie sits right next to me, her thigh pressing against mine as she reads over the adoption process instructions while I fill out the form. The questions are simple, asking about my living situation, if I work, if there are any other pets in the house, if there are any other people. I look like one lonely dude when I fill out all of my stats on the application.

  A door creaks open and an older man and woman enter the lobby area, a small dog with wiry white hair dragging them by its leash. Clearly, they have no control over the animal, but they don’t seem to mind. The woman laughs as the man tries to calm the dog down by kneeling and speaking low. But the dog won’t have any of it, leaping up so its front paws are on the man’s knee. The dog licks the man’s cheek, making him laugh as well, and I can’t help but smile.

  “You want a dog like that?” Katie murmurs as she leans in close.

  So close, I can smell her. Feel her. I want to take her hand in mine. Pull her even closer and kiss her.

  But I don’t. Instead, I just smile and stare into her pretty blue eyes. “I don’t know if I want one that hyper.”

  She nudges my knee with her own. “Well, hurry up so we can go search for your future dog.”

  I finish up the application and then we’re led to the area where the dogs are kept. It’s a cavernous room with row after row of dog runs, the fenced-off areas holding one, sometimes two dogs within. Katie keeps by my side as we slowly walk down the first aisle, scanning each dog carefully. Some are bold and come right up to us, barking playfully. Others cower in the back, too scared to approach. There are even a few that bark ferociously, looking ready to tear our heads off.

  A little sigh escapes Katie when we finish walking down one aisle. “This is so depressing. All of these unwanted animals,” she murmurs.

  Yeah. It is depressing. If I could take all of them home, I would. But that would be impossible.

  The next aisle over, I come to a stop about halfway down. The dog is medium-sized, with black and brown longish fur, a white spot on the chest. I kneel down, keeping my distance but still wanting to get close. The dog sticks its nose against the fencing and I reach out with tentative fingers, letting it smell me first.

  “Her name is Molly,” Katie reads from the sign that’s posted. “They estimate her age at around a year.”

  “She’s sweet.” Molly licks my fingers, then sits on her haunches and pants at me. Her warm brown eyes are expressive and I feel like she’s talking to me.

  Take me home with you, she says.

  “I think I want her,” I say as I rise to my full height, spotting one of the shelter employees and waving him over.

  “They don’t know exactly what type of dog she is,” Katie says. She’s still squinting at the information sign as the employee unlocks the gate and allows me inside the dog run.

  Molly hops around my feet when I enter, offering a little bark in greeting. I pet her head, scratch behind her ears, and feel her warm, solid weight press against my legs. Kneeling once more, I hold her face and stare into her eyes as the employee reassures me that she’s gentle and friendly.

  Yeah. She’s definitely friendly. Her tongue lolls out the right side of her mouth as she pants at me and I scrub her beneath the chin, drifting my fingers down to scratch along the white scruff of fur at the center of her chest.

  “She’d be great with kids,” the employee continues, and I glance up at him.

  “I don’t have kids.”

  “Oh. Well. Someday, when you have them. I bet she’d be great with them.” The guy, who appears around my age, maybe a little older, seems embarrassed.

  “Can I come in and pet her?” Katie asks, standing at the partially cracked-open gate.

  “Sure,” the employee encourages, and Katie does, shutting the gate behind her before she comes over to where I am, and
kneels beside me.

  Molly turns her attention to Katie, coming at her with enthusiasm. Katie pets her, running her hand over the length of her back just before Molly sneaks a lick on her face.

  “Oh God,” Katie laughs, holding Molly away from her face. “That was gross.”

  “It just means she likes you,” I tell her.

  She smiles, her gaze still on Molly as the dog comes back my way and practically tries to climb into my lap. “I think she likes you more.”

  I pet the dog, my hands lingering, feeling her size. She’s not too big, but I wouldn’t consider her a little dog. She’s solid, but trim, and kinda wiggly. Her tail won’t stop whipping around, like her excitement level is at warp speed, and she continually nuzzles my hands, forcing me to keep petting her. “What do you think?” I ask Katie.

  Her eyes widen the slightest bit, as if she’s shocked that I want her opinion. “I think she’s sweet. She has a good disposition.”

  Molly looks up at me with those deep brown eyes and I’m a goner. “I always wanted a dog,” I admit, my voice low, only for Katie.

  “You never had one?” she asks just as quietly.

  I shake my head. “He wouldn’t let me have any pets.”

  The sadness on her face makes me feel bad, like maybe I shouldn’t have made that confession. I even feel a little angry. I don’t want her pity, and I can tell in this moment that she feels sorry for me. Hell, I’m feeling sorry for me. I didn’t have what anyone would consider a normal childhood. I’d watch shows on TV about a mom and dad, brothers and sisters and maybe an annoying grandma who’s hanging around, putting her nose in their business. Plus there was always the rowdy dog that won’t stop chasing the cat or whatever, and I remember eating it up. That shit was just pure fantasy for me.

  I couldn’t imagine a life like that. I had the furthest thing from it. A mom who ditched me, a fucked-up dad who was hardly ever around—and when he was, I didn’t want to be around him—and a shitty, dark, and decrepit house. I found a kitten once. Out in the backyard, wandering aimlessly through the overgrown grass and weeds, meowing nonstop. It was soft and cute and cuddly, and I wanted to keep it. I brought the gray kitten into the house, tried to give it some milk, but my father found me in the kitchen, yelling and carrying on about how that kitten caused too much fucking racket.