Into You Series: The Complete Collection

31. Nia

CHAPTER 31

NIA

Present day

H arry and I walk down to breakfast, and the grin across my face doesn’t falter for even a moment. He’s trying to discuss which route home will be more scenic, but I’m too caught up in the nerves radiating down to my fingertips to contribute anything—not even a There are some good peach stands on the way! because round peaches only make me think of the nasty things Ian and I could, and should, be doing together.

The moment we walk into the hotel bar, I can feel Ian’s presence. The scent of his cedar body wash finds me like an arrow searching for its target, and when his blue eyes lock with mine, I know it’s hit a bullseye.

But just as quick as my heart was to embrace the sharp head of the arrow, it crumbles under it when I realize that gaze holds no sense of play. Ian doesn’t lift a challenging eyebrow or have that tilt in the corner of his mouth that holds some unspoken secret.

Ian sees me, and then he goes back to his omelet.

What the hell?

I remember nothing but happy things from last night. He and the boys came to pick us up, we all laughed, and then… what else?

I don’t know.

“Don’t ome let that food go to waste,” I say with a smile then immediately cringe. What the heck did I just say? Even Harry looks at me with his teeth gritted and eyebrows pulled inward as if telling me how bad of a try-hard I am right now.

What can I say? Ian isn’t looking at me with puppy dog eyes or spitting sarcastic comments my way. This is unnatural.

“We hittin’ the road?” Grant grumbles, his fork nestled between his lips, grinding at his bottom teeth as if irritated that it’s there to begin with. He looks like he could be sitting on a porch overlooking a lawn littered with broken cars with the way it’s toothpicking in and out of his mouth.

“You bet,” Harry says, tugging off his hat and running his fingers through his locks before snapping it back on, bill backward. “Let’s get kicking.”

Ian stands, towering over both of my brothers, and wraps them in a tight three-way hug. It might be more endearing if I weren’t so startled by how uncharacteristically silent Ian is—and how the hug is not for me!

What. The. Heck?

He doesn’t meet my gaze when he says, “I’ll walk you guys out.”

“That’s my job,” I say with a strained laugh. It only gets a reaction from Harry, who swings an arm over my shoulders and pulls me in tight.

“You’re embarrassing yourself,” he whispers. I shove my elbow into his chest.

It’s odd—if I didn’t know any better, this walk to the parking lot might look like a tight-knit family parting ways at the end of a long adventure: the brothers, their sister, and the welcomed-with-open-arms brother-in-law. But, it’s not. Just three siblings and the estranged tall man hovering behind them like a shadow of either protection or doom. I honestly don’t know which.

“Be safe,” I say, leaning down through the window as Harry revs the engine. His eyes flutter shut as if he’s finally found solace in the sound of his sports car. He’s been through too much these past few years. He’s got the zen of a monk, and I envy it.

In the reflection of Harry’s pitch-black, buffed-out car, I see Ian behind me, hands in his pockets and a small smirk on his face.

Grant shifts in the passenger seat, unbuckling and buckling his seatbelt until he seems satisfied enough to lean forward and toss a wave at Ian. “Hey asshole, you should drop by sometime.”

With my elbows still poised on the window, I whip my head around to see Ian giving a half-hearted salute back to Grant. I expect him to flash me a grin or a wink or any single thing that would make this seem like it’s actually Ian standing behind me, but it’s like a body snatcher has come and ripped the sarcastic, devious Ian from the world and replaced him with someone I don’t know—or, more accurately, someone not interested in me for the first time in years.

I have to be imagining this.

Harry clears his throat and I back away from the car, almost bumping into Ian. I would have if he hadn’t moved out of the way so quickly—a movement which seemed deliberate. I feel like he would have stayed there were it any other day.

No, I’m just overanalyzing. It’s nothing. He’s just tired. We were both up late.

But also…why isn’t he gripping my top, pulling me close, or even having snide conversation with an undertone of sly naughtiness?

We wave as Harry whips out of the parking lot and onto the main road. Then there’s just the sounds of passing traffic, carts rolling into the hotel, and the distant ocean waves. Still no quips from Ian. He finally looks at me, gives a half-smirk, then shrugs and walks back toward the hotel.

Well now I’m irritated.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen Ian Chambers so quiet,” I say, walking behind him, trying my best to keep up with his long strides.

“I’m quiet?” he asks.

“Don’t play dumb.”

“I’m just tired.” The automatic doors to the entrance slide open and we walk through. The lights hum and buzz above us, and it’s just one extra layer of sound that isn’t him being an asshole. I didn’t realize how much I would miss his stupid comments until they were gone.

“Yeah, sorry we kept you out late.” I try to steer us back to the issue at hand. Something happened last night that I don’t remember, and I’ll be damned if it stays up in the air.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says.

“What happened last night?” I ask. Ian walks toward the elevator, and I follow.

“Don’t you have to go to the beach or something?” he asks.

Is he trying to get rid of me?

“Really—what happened?” I ask again. He pushes the button to the elevator, and when the doors ding open, I follow him in. This ride doesn’t carry the same weight that it did yesterday. It’s just the two of us, but we’re not pressed against the walls of the elevator or sneaking secretive touches. I’m staring at him and he’s finally looking back at me, eyes narrowed, slowly letting out an exhalation.

He’s smoldering because it’s impossible for him not to. It’s the stubble, the eyes, the strong arms peeking out from under his sleeves…all of it—though I get the sense that he’s not intentionally trying to turn me on.

“The rest of the wedding crowd will be coming in today,” he says, running his hands through his curly locks. “I should really get some sleep. I was up late.”

When he keys into his room, I’m stuck standing there—dumbfounded, confused, and heartbroken.

Again.