Love Me (Take a Chance #2)(38)
Author: Diane Alberts

“Bri—”

Thomas never finished. His voice broke off in a sharp cry. Brianna turned so quickly she nearly stumbled. Thomas had thrust his hand into the door, stopping it from closing, and it was caught, clenched tight between the folding accordion halves and squeezing tighter.

And the bus was still moving.

The momentum dragged him forward so sharply his entire body smacked into the side of the vehicle. Cries of curiosity and surprise rose from the back of the bus. Someone shouted something about 911. Thomas’s face crushed against the glass door with a sickening crunch that turned Brianna’s stomach, and blood blossomed from his nose.

“Thomas!”

“Shit, man!” the bus driver cried, slamming on the brakes. He yanked the door release. It slammed open, releasing Thomas’s arm. He staggered back, clutching his nose with a hand turned nearly purple. His eyes were wide, dazed.

“I dink du broke by dose,” he said thickly.

Brianna tumbled down the steps. “Oh God, are you all right? What were you thinking? Why would you do that?”

His eyes focused slowly. He looked at her, and then smiled. It was the most ridiculous smile she’d ever seen, with blood streaming down from his swollen and reddened nose—and it was almost heartbreakingly sweet. “Du wuddin listhen. I hadda gatch du.”

The tears that had been threatening were so close to spilling over. She reached up to touch his swelling face gingerly; he hissed and flinched. She bit her lip. That idiot. He couldn’t even talk, and he was still standing there smiling at her.

“Nothing you could say is worth hurting yourself like this,” she said.

“Dumthink ish. Du diddin leg be dell du.” His smile widened. “Du diddin leg be gib du thig.”

What the hell had he just said?

His other hand came from behind his back. He was holding one of her missing shoes—the cute little Dior with the artfully tapered heel and the bow on the toe. But it wasn’t the shoe that made her legs go weak, until she was forced to sit down heavily, bottom thumping down against the bus steps.

It was the glittering diamond ring encircling the shoe’s spiked heel, reflecting back the Vegas lights like a star.

Chapter Sixteen

Broken noses hurt like a bitch.

But not nearly as much as the pain he’d felt when Brianna had run away from him, so convinced he was like every other man who’d ever hurt her. Every other man who’d left her—even Michael. It hadn’t been her husband’s choice to leave, but that hadn’t left Brianna any less alone. Any less wounded. Thomas hadn’t realized quite how wounded until he’d tried to tell her how he felt…and she’d jumped to the conclusion that he was rejecting her.

Especially when he started off his carefully planned speech with, I don’t want to date you anymore. He was a f**king idiot.

Now she stared at him, her eyes wide and disbelieving, her lips parted and trembling. Everyone on the bus was watching him. He didn’t care. He’d been trying to nerve himself up to this for days, and he’d decided tonight was the night.

He wasn’t going to let one broken nose stop him.

The possibly broken fingers might be a problem, but he’d worry about that later.

The bus driver half rose from his seat. “Dude, you can’t do shit like that. Look, I got it on camera that you stuck your hand in, so we’re not liable—”

“I don’t care,” Thomas said without ever taking his eyes from Brianna, only it sounded more like I gon ger. Great. He was about to propose, and he sounded like a Swedish Oompa Loompa. He tried again, careful to articulate every word. “I. Don’t. Care.”

“Insurance is gonna care, and you need to get to a hospital—”

“I’ll go when I’m done with my business here.”

The driver sank back down with a mutter. “Yeah? Whatever, man. On or off. I gotta schedule to keep.”

“Brianna,” Thomas said gently. She wasn’t moving, wasn’t responding. He stepped up onto the bottom step and gripped her arm with his good hand, transferring the shoe to his bruised, cramping fingers. “Come on. Let’s find a seat.”

She stood shakily, still silent. Her silence, that stunned look on her face, left his heart heavy. Maybe he’d f**ked up too much. Maybe he was moving too fast, but he couldn’t help it. He loved her, and he didn’t see the point in wasting time with formalities when he already knew he wanted to be with her. But maybe she really didn’t want him…

He guided her to a seat and nudged her into it. She dropped down like a marionette with cut strings. He sank down next to her. She just looked at him, brows knitting.

“I don’t understand,” she said, voice lost.

“You didn’t give me a chance to explain. When I said I didn’t want to date you anymore, I meant it.” He tried to smile. It hurt like a whore, and the blood pooling on his upper lip felt disgusting. He could taste it in his mouth. “I didn’t want to just have meaningless sex with you again. Not without telling you exactly how I feel.”

A touch of fire snapped in her eyes, clearing away some of the fog. “You might have started out with that instead of what you said.”

“I know. I’m an idiot.” He caught her chin in his fingers. She was a mess. Her eyes red-rimmed, her hair everywhere in a wild blond cloud, her makeup streaked by sweat. He’d never seen her more beautiful. “And I don’t blame you for running away. I could have done that better.”

Her gaze dropped to the shoe. “Why is there a ring on my shoe?” she asked, her voice practically a whisper of a whisper.

“I’m getting there.”

He slid off the seat. His everything hurt; he’d hit the side of the bus pretty hard. But that didn’t matter right now. Ignoring the twinge in his spine and the creak of his knees, he sank down to one knee in the bus aisle. A chorus of gasps and excited chatter rose around them. He felt like an actor on a stage, audience and all—but there was nothing feigned about his feelings. This was too real. So real it was frightening, so real he couldn’t stand to let it go. Without Brianna, his life would feel like a shell. Like he was going through the motions.

He couldn’t stand the thought of going back to a life like that.

She was still staring at him, flushed, her hands fretting together in her lap. She darted a nervous glance around. “Thomas, I—”

“Let me, sweetheart. Please. Talking is a little painful right now. I’d like to at least get it out before the swelling gets worse.”