Read Online My Soul to Keep by Melanie Wells - Free Book Online

penitence I knew he deserved, then hiked myself up on the bar and sat facing him, my bare feet on the worn knees of his chinos.
    “I owe you so many apologies, I don’t know where to begin.” Ireached for both his hands. “I’m sorry. I am.” I shook my head and squeezed his hands, loving the feel of his fingers wrapping around mine. “But geez. After all this time …” I looked down and blinked away a tear. “Why do I always manage to feel attacked when there’s no enemy in the room?”
    He shrugged. “Who says there’s no enemy in the room?”
    I looked around, half expecting to see Peter Terry standing in the doorway, overcome suddenly with that eerie feeling you get when someone’s watching you.
    “You’re shooting at the wrong guy, sugar pea,” David was saying. “Next time, maybe you should find out if you’re dealing with friend or foe before you unload your clip into him.”
    “So which is it? Friend or foe?”
    “Friend.”
    “Friend. I don’t know if I can be friends with you, David.”
    “I don’t know if I can be anything else, Dylan.”
    I hopped down and went to the fridge and poured myself a glass of wine. I set the bottle down on the bar, took a sip, and closed my eyes, letting the taste settle in on my tongue.
    “Sauvignon blanc,” he said, tilting the bottle so he could read the label. “New Zealand?”
    I nodded. “It’s the best.” I took another sip and held out my glass. “Want a sip?”
    “I’ll stick with my Shiner.”
    I set my glass down, and our eyes locked in a long clinch. “You broke my heart,” I said finally.
    “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to hurt you.”
    “Sure you did.”
    He shrugged. “Okay, maybe a little.”
    “Don’t do that anymore, okay?”
    “Hurt you?”
    “Yeah. I can’t take it. I haven’t got any fight left in me.”
    “All evidence to the contrary.” He looked at me, then down at his hands. “I can’t get back together, Dylan.”
    I felt a tear slide down my cheek. I reached up and swiped it away quickly, before he looked up. It is a rule in the universe that a girl should never break down and sob hysterically in front of an ex-boyfriend. I intended to adhere to the handbook on this one. I had my self-respect to consider.
    “I don’t want to get back together either,” I lied. “But you are the one person in the world who isn’t qualified to comfort me right now, David. You DQed yourself the last time you walked out that door.”
    “DQed?”
    “Disqualified. Technical foul. Penalty for piling on.”
    “For what? I play a fair game.”
    “You broke my heart.”
    “You mentioned that,” he said.
    I thought I caught at least a glimpse of remorse in his eyes. I looked at him expectantly. “Where’s my apology?”
    “I’m, sorry, Dylan. I really didn’t think you cared that much.”
    “Well, I did.”
    “I couldn’t tell.”
    “I know,” I said. “You deserve better. I’m sorry.”
    “You’re right. I do.”
    He stood and picked up his keys. I followed him to the door, resisting a sudden, overwhelming impulse to drop to my knees, grab his legs, and beg him to stay. If I’d thought it had a gnat’s chance of working, I might have done it. I’d have regretted it, of course. Begging is not an optimal relationship tool. But still, it was tempting.
    He stopped at the front door and hugged me. I closed my eyes and breathed in the smell of his shirt.
    “Nice touch,” I said when we stepped back.
    “What?”
    “The cologne.”
    “I wear it all the time.”
    “That’s not why you wore it tonight.”
    He blushed. “Dirty trick, huh?”
    “A little bit, yeah.”
    “Take care of yourself, will you, Dylan? And will you please let me know what I can do?”
    “Oh, sure. Absolutely. You’ll be the first one I call.”
    “Liar.”
    “I’m trying to be nice.”
    “Don’t.” He kissed me on the forehead. “I like the real you better.”
    I shut the door and watched through the peephole as he walked down the