It’s a good job I’m being held up right now, because my knees turn to jelly as I stare up at a face that has aged a little, but suddenly looks no different to the last time I saw it nine years ago.
‘Elijah’ my name falls from his lips like a prayer, those steel grey eyes that I recognise as well as my own roam over my face, drinking me in like a man dying of thirst and has just stumbled across the Oasis, unsure if its real or just a mirage.
‘Ryker . . .’ My voice comes out as a strangled croak, but you’d think I’d sang it with angels providing backing track with the way his face lights up.
‘It really is you’ he murmurs a little dazedly.
I nod, awkwardly, ‘I slipped on the ice’ I reply unnecessarily, because duh!
Ryker glances down at my feet, that smile that causes a dimple to appear
