He means crazy. Don’t go crazy on him.
Too late.
I came this way.
There are no returns.
No exchanges.
Final sale.
All items must go.
Placing my hands over his, I bore holes into his gaze. “Are you. In. Love. With Frankie?”
He flinches. His concern for me morphs into understanding and then sorrow.
He does.
I release his hands and step out of his grasp.
He loves her, and he made out with me like it mattered—like I mattered.
“I don’t blame you. Frankie is amazing. She’s beautiful… And tough.” Not crazy like me.
I pick up our plates, glasses, and pizza box. “Smart too. She sees things.” I dump everything on the kitchen counter. “I feel like she knows me when barely anyone does. She just gets me.” My jealousy doesn’t negate the fact she is an incredible woman who has been there for me.
“Reese.”
I start washing the plates. “She has such a big heart too, though she keeps it locked up tight most of the time. Except for Gabriel. She’s dumb, stupid in love with him… And Ox, of course.” I set the plates on the drying rack.
“Kitten.”
No point in using the dishwasher for so few items. It’s usually just me, so I rarely use it.
I start on the glasses. “They’re a forever thing. You know that, right?”
His gaze drills into the side of my skull, practically begging me give him my eyes. But I can’t. I can’t face the man who’s already stolen my heart but has kept his for a woman who can never be his.
We’re both screwed.
Well, not literally since I’ve never done that.
Probably never will.
I came for him tonight.
He touched me, and I didn’t have an episode.
But he loves another woman.
He’s not mine.
Kitchen clean, I throw away the pizza box, avoiding eye contact or any contact whatsoever. I fluff the pillows on the couch, turn off the TV. Then stand at the door. Waiting.
Waiting for him to come to the same conclusion.
He doesn’t.
I unlock the door, still waiting for him move from his spot in the middle of my living room.
“It’s not what you think,” his pained rasp has my downcast eyes pricking.
“It’s fine. Really.” You can’t help who you love.
I still love a man who hurt me in ways no father should.
How sick is that?
Who am I to judge?
“I hope your mom will be okay.” That’s what’s more important here, potentially life and death. Cancer is a mean fucker. I really do pray she’ll be alright, kick cancer’s ass.
Silence radiates like beams of light, bouncing off the walls, casting shadows, shining too brightly in some places, making me want to hide.
I can’t ask him to leave. I can’t be rude, but I can’t stand here and take his broken-down demeanor either. He takes up too much space, sucks the oxygen out of the room, making it hard to breathe. I’m forever short of breath when he’s around.
“Please lock the door when you leave.” I all but run, darting for my bedroom, locking the door behind me and slumping to the floor.
I’m such a chicken shit.
A knock and jiggle of the doorknob has me crawling away from the door. “Reese.” He knocks again. “I don’t want to leave things like this.”
“It’s fine. Let’s just pretend tonight never happened.” That you weren’t using me to find comfort from your bad news instead of going to Frankie, who I’m sure was your first choice.
“Dammit, Kitten. I’m not talking about this through a fucking door. When you’re ready to talk about this like adults, you find me.” He stomps away, but halts after a few steps.
Then his footfalls return.
“I’m not mad at you. I need you to know that.” His exhale nearly blows my hair from the other side of the door. “This will be a hard week. My fight is next Saturday. If I’m distracted, distant, it’s because I’m in my head. Not because I’m mad at you or ignoring you. Because I’m not. And I don’t want to pretend tonight never happened.”
His insistence makes me smile. I rise to my feet and slink to the door, placing my hand over the cool surface as if I can feel him through it.
“Kick ass, Rowdy. Win your fight,” I whisper to the dead tree that separates us.
“I heard that. Please, open the door.” A thud hits the wood, and I imagine it’s his forehead. “Let me kiss you goodnight, Kitten.”
My hand moves on its own accord, unlocking the door.
Oh, shit.
I step back.
Slowly the door creaks open. His darkness fills the doorway, seeping forward like smoke. He snakes an arm around my waist, his hand on my back holding me in place as he advances. Capturing my cheek, his fingers sink into my hair.
I whimper my acquiescence, making him chuff seconds before his mouth crashes over mine.
If I thought he was kissing me before, I was wrong. So very wrong.
He was going easy on me.
This is a kiss of anger—though he said he wasn’t mad—and passion.
So much passion.
He nibbles and sucks my lips until I open fully, then his tongue plunders, diving in, taking mine hostage.
He fucks my mouth with his, wrenching me closer, devouring me with abandon, without care for my crazy.
And, oh my God, I’m done for.
Wring me out and hang me up to dry.
This man can kiss.
My toes curl.
My fingers lose feeling digging into his shoulders and hair.
I want to climb him, build a treehouse, and never leave.
He squeezes my ass and breaks our kiss. His eyes, blazing with hunger and anger singe my skin. “If I were in love with another woman, I wouldn’t be here kissing you like a starved man. Got it?”
Kissed stupid, I nod and suppress the need to beg, please, sir, may I have another?
Satisfied with my agreement, he quickly scans the room, then quirks a brow at me. “It’s dark in here.”
“What?” It’s nighttime. Of course it’s dark.
He runs a callused thumb along my cheek. “You didn’t turn on the light, Reese.” His lilted smile is full of pride. I’m not sure if it’s for me or him.
It’s dark in my room. I forgot to turn on the light. What is he doing to me?
His soft, scorching mouth finds mine, kissing me tenderly before releasing me to step back. “Night, Kitten.”
“G’night, Rowdy,” I manage as I sway to the door, watching his smartass swagger, so satisfied with himself.
I fall into bed after locking up, replaying the night on repeat. I may or may not touch myself before drifting into a dreamless coma.
IF YOU ASKED ME EIGHT DAYS ago if I would win my fight tonight, I would have said yes, hands down. Now, a week after finding out my mom has cancer, kissing Reese, and seeing her come face—it’s spectacular, by the way—I’m distracted and finding it hard to concentrate.
This week’s a shitshow of relentless anger at my mom’s situation, fear of losing her, fear of fucking up with Reese and losing her. Cowboy, Jess, and Jonah were the main recipients of said rage, taking it like the men and friends they are, redirecting it toward my fight prep.