My heart stampeded in my rib cage once again as I willed my dick to behave and not react to her being flush against me. “No problem.” The strangled words came out more as a deep croak.
She pulled from our embrace, lifting to her toes to plant a kiss on my cheek before she scurried off and back to her boyfriend’s side.
“Yeah, thanks, man,” Bobby said, his eyes locked on me as he lifted his chin and intertwined his fingers with hers. His appreciation was laced with a warning I didn’t need.
I clenched and unclenched my fists, grinding my back molars, and shoved through the door again before the tension between Bobby and me turned into something more. It was the last thing our band needed—a fight over a girl who had never been mine.
I had nobody to blame but myself. He’d made a move when I hadn’t. If I could go back to that day, three years ago in my garage, I would’ve grown a pair and staked my claim. She’d been there to see me, but somehow, she’d ended up with him. And now, there would never be an us.
Conley
Present Day…
“Just say it already,” I demanded through a groan, heaving the heavy box into my arms. I placed it on the black granite counter of the island and looked up at my mother when she said nothing.
Leaning against the doorjamb, arms crossed, she stared back at me, the silence ensuing.
“Well… go on,” I motioned to her with my hand. “I know it’s killing you inside not to say I told you so.”
She sighed, lowering her arms to her side and taking the few steps into the pint-sized kitchen. Stopping on the other side of the island, she reached for my hand, her long, graceful fingers wrapping around mine. “You make it sound as if I wanted this for you.”
“Well, you and Dad were never exactly accepting of Bobby.”
She yanked her hand away from mine as if I’d burned her. “Of course we accepted him,” she defended, her voice pitching an octave higher.
I raised an eyebrow, slanting my head to the side, both of us aware they never liked him. I didn’t understand why she wouldn’t admit it. Especially now.
“It’s just Bobby is…well, he’s…”
I waited as she struggled, carefully choosing her words—ones that wouldn’t tarnish the perfect reputation she worked hard to maintain as the preacher’s wife.
I, on the other hand, didn’t worry about what the townsfolk of Billingsley thought of me. I refused to play the part of a saint, and I didn’t understand her need to when the conversation comprised only the two of us. Maybe it was a habit for her. She was naturally kind and good, but sometimes I wished she’d just say what was on her mind. Be real with me. Show me I wasn’t the only one with flaws.
“A self-absorbed asshole?” I supplied.
“Conley Ann Logan!” she reprimanded as her lips pursed with a refrained smile.
“You know it’s true,” I said through a laugh as I opened the box and pulled out a few bubble-wrapped plates from inside.
“He just wasn’t the right one for you.” She reached into the box to help me unpack my new dishes.
“That’s an understatement,” I grumbled as she continued on.
“We worried about how much of yourself you gave. It seemed like you were always chasing after him and his dreams, instead of your own.”
I gave her an annoyed glance.
“Not that there’s anything wrong with that.” She raised her palms in defense.
Taking a few of the plates we’d unwrapped, I turned and placed them in a cabinet between the sink and stove. I shouldn’t be so defensive. She wasn’t saying anything I hadn’t told myself. It just hurt realizing I’d not only let myself down, but my parents.
She stepped around the island, meeting me as I turned back toward the box, and swallowed me in a hug. “I’m so sorry it turned out this way, honey.” Her arms squeezed tighter. "Truly, I am. We both are. We only want you to be happy. But we’re also glad to have you home.” She kissed the side of my head. “I have my daughter back.”
I melted into her embrace, breathing in the comforting scent of her favorite Chanel perfume. She’d worn it for as long as I could remember. My father gifted it to her every year at Christmas.
He was always finding little ways to make her happy, and to show her he cared. I could count the number of times Bobby had done the same for me on one hand. One hand. Nearly two decades we were together and fewer than five times he’d done something with only me in mind.
I’d made too many excuses over the years for him. As of a few weeks ago, I was done with excuses, done accepting less than I deserved. My mom and father were there for me when I’d decided to leave. They were the only two I’d been able to confide in.
“Knock-knock!” my younger brother called, pushing open the front door of my new apartment. “Someone order pizza?”
Breaking from our embrace, I hollered back, “We’re in the kitchen!”
Ricky strutted into the room with one arm around his girlfriend, Mia, and his other balancing two boxes of pizza.
“Thanks, little brother.” I ruffled his hair before snatching the pizzas from him.
“Cut it out!” He swatted away my hand and combed his fingers through his short black strands, straightening them back out.
I grinned and rolled my eyes at the annoyance on his face. He’d turned into a cocky brat since he became the varsity quarterback of his high school football team at the end of his freshman year. Now that he was a senior and dating the head cheerleader, it only seemed to inflate his over-grown ego.
Ricky was born my sophomore year of high school. He’d been an unplanned pregnancy. Or, as my parents often referred to his unexpectedness, a surprise blessing from God. With the age gap between us, I wasn’t as close with Ricky as I wanted. I planned to make it my mission to change that and to ensure he didn’t turn out like Bobby—a man my brother had idolized over the years. The day he finally finds out about our split would be an upsetting one for him.
“Thanks for picking up dinner,” Mom said, giving said blessing a hug and a kiss on the cheek.
“No problem, Mom.” Ricky hugged her back using both arms. It was one of the few times you’d find him without a part of his body attached to his girlfriend. He was a momma’s boy. No doubt about it.
He retrieved Mia’s hand and guided her to the small, round table that barely fit in my kitchen. She took a seat, giving me a nervous smile.
“You want some pizza, Mia?” I asked, opening the lids as Ricky left her to get himself a plate.
“Oh, no. I already ate.”
“She doesn’t eat carbs,” Ricky added as he piled his plate high with slices of meaty pizza. “Or meat.”
“Of course she doesn’t,” I muttered under my breath. Mom nudged my side with her elbow, giving me a discreet warning glare to be nice. I ignored her and grabbed a single slice. I ate as I continued to unpack and organize my kitchen while the rest of them sat at the table.
“This is a nice apartment,” Mia said, her eyes scanning the room.
“Right?” Ricky agreed through a mouthful of food. “You should see the pool. It’s lit.”