What I Should Have Said (Anchors and Eagles #1)

by R.L. Atkinson

Scanning the free benches, my heart thumped wildly in my chest as I heaved the dumbbells against my sides. Only one was unoccupied. As quickly as I could, I waddled over to it and turned around, putting the mirrors behind me as I backed up to the bench. And sat down. Planting on something that was definitely not the bench. I shot upright with a shriek, dropped the dumbbells, and spun around. My hands slapped over my mouth as I stared at the face I’d just sat on.

“Why is it always you?” he muttered. “I swear, everywhere I go, you’re somehow there.” “I feel the same exact way!” I threw my hands on my hips. “Are you following me?” “No. I’m actually trying to avoid you.” “Well, try harder.” His gaze remained cold and indifferent.

“Not watching where you sit would be foolish.” Griffin lifted a brow;

“There’s my good girl,” Griffin said, sharp and clear.

“You foolish coward, Jane,” I whispered to myself. “You’re no coward,” a deep voice quietly responded through the door. I closed my eyes. Griffin.

Dark, hunter eyes appeared around a tree. Shadowy primitive markings scored across a chiseled face of stone and splattered carelessly over the body of the giant that stalked toward me. The stars whirled above me laughing, and the moon wanted to crush me flat; I could feel its weight pressing down. And I was so tired. Except he was coming for me. I had to keep going.

What I’m trying to say is that I don’t really know what love feels like, but what I felt, and still feel for you, sure seems a lot like what I imagine it to be.

And then my focus slid to a tall man dressed all in black striding like the angel of death, only a few feet from us.

“Griffin?” I gasped, overwhelmed with absolute and total yearning. And knowledge that I was going to be okay. Gasps of air escaped my lungs, biting back the waves of exhaustive tears of solace.