“Sounds good. I’ll follow you out. Let me just get this guy back to his mom.”
“I’m good on my own,” Joshua said.
Macon snorted. “Sure you are, kid. Do we honestly want your mom to rip me a new one for letting you walk around by yourself in a place that we don’t know?”
“Fine. I am almost an adult now.”
That made me smile.
Joshua continued. “You know they’re changing the age of a teenager to my age soon.”
Macon snorted again, shook his head, and led Joshua back to where his mom was.
I met Nate’s gaze, and we both cracked up laughing, shaking our heads.
I was pretty sure I had said something similar to my parents back in the day, and it reminded me that while life moved on, some things stayed the same.
I hated that I had no idea what was going on inside me when it came to Paris. No idea what I would have done if she had been hurt more than she had.
I was still going to fucking blame myself. I should’ve been faster. Never should have left her. Should’ve found a way to keep her safe.
And I hadn’t.
I wouldn’t have forgiven myself if I hadn’t run when I did. If I had gotten into my car a second earlier, I might have missed that scream. And she would have been there all alone. And God knows what would’ve happened.
That bile came back into my throat, and I swallowed it down, then got into my car, saying goodbye to my brother before heading home.
I didn’t want to talk to anybody. I didn’t want to focus on anything.
Fuck, I had forgotten somebody important.
I was supposed to meet Allison—and probably break it off.
I hadn’t even told her where I was going.
Watching my friend get hurt had pushed all thoughts of everything and everyone else out of my head. Fuck.
I couldn’t deal with this.
Allison wasn’t mine anymore, and I had to make sure she understood that. I had to figure out how to explain that we had grown in different directions.
And fuck, this was probably why I wasn’t good at relationships.
I pulled into my garage, turned off my car, and rubbed my temples.
I just wanted a beer, needed to forget the day and relax, but that wouldn’t be happening. I was going to have to call Allison and apologize for standing her up.
And then find a way to break it off because it wasn’t fair to either of us to keep this going.
I made my way into my home and frowned when I heard sounds from the back of the house.
Considering that I had just left my brothers, it couldn’t be them.
The hairs on the back of my neck rose, and I looked around for a weapon, but then I realized who was back there.
I recognized that purse, those shoes, and even the fucking bra.
And the deep voice that went along with the very familiar feminine voice? No, she wasn’t alone. She wasn’t waiting for me.
Fuck this.
How the hell had she gotten in?
I slowly made my way to the back of the house, wondering if I should just say screw it and leave and let her have a good time in my bed.
Instead, I made it to my bedroom door, looked at my bed where the woman I was currently dating was riding her ex, a man I had met once or twice. I let out a laugh.
Because why the fuck not?
At my laugh, the man froze, his hands digging deep into her hips, but Allison turned over her shoulder and winked.
“It’s about time you got home.”
Un-fucking-believable.
“Jesus. You could’ve just texted. Isn’t that what people do these days? Is there a reason you had to fuck your ex in my bed? My bed.”
She continued moving, and the guy started shaking as if trying to dislodge her, but Allison did what she wanted.
“What? You weren’t getting me off, so I figured I’d do what I had to.”
“Seriously? That’s the line you’re going with? Fine. Get out. It’s done. It’s over. You already know this. Get out of my fucking house. And give me back the fucking key I didn’t know you had.”
“I watered your plants. So, I kept the key.”
“I don’t fucking care. Get out. Now.”
She rolled her eyes and then swiveled her hips before getting off.
I turned because there were some things I didn’t need to see and ignored the pair as the guy started grumbling low about how he’d thought this was her place.
The guy must be dumber than a bag of rocks if he thought this was her house. But whatever, I didn’t have time to worry about that right now. I just needed her out.
The guy mumbled his apologies before running out, his shoes in his hands, and his zipper undone, closing the front door behind him.
I turned to see Allison slowly putting on her earrings, her lips swollen, and her makeup smeared a bit.
“Was it worth it?”
“You tell me. You love her, you’re spending all your time with her, and all you did was leave me alone. You deserved this.”
What. The. Fuck?
“You know what, fuck you.”
“You weren’t doing that, and that was the problem. You don’t get to talk to me that way.”
“You basically broke into my house. You’re fucking your ex in my bed, and you have the nerve to say that? Do you want to know where I was? Why don’t you fucking ask me, Allison?”
“You were with her, weren’t you?”
“I was in the hospital because she got attacked in our work parking lot. I was waiting to make sure that she was alive. Whatever. We already knew this relationship was over, even before now. You just made sure to bang that nail right into the coffin.”
“Oh my God,” she whispered, her eyes wide.
“Don’t act as if you care. Get out. And leave my fucking key.”
She opened her mouth to say something, but then she left, her hands shaking. I honestly didn’t care.
We hadn’t been in a serious or healthy relationship.
I didn’t feel guilty, I couldn’t. Maybe I would later.
For now, I would call a locksmith and change my locks, just in case. I wondered what the fuck else I was going to do.
Because I didn’t love Paris, not even a little.
Yet I was attracted to her. And that was a problem on many fronts.
I had never acted on those feelings, had never done anything untoward.
Allison didn’t believe me. Though that didn’t matter. Nothing mattered anymore.
Damn, I wanted that fucking beer. And to forget.
I knew I would never be able to get the sound of Paris’s scream out of my head. Not until the end of my days.
Never.
Chapter 8
Paris
Gravel scraped my chin, my face. I blinked, trying to get the cobwebs out of my mind. There was something wrong. I couldn’t hear anything, couldn’t speak. It was as if I stood in a vacuum, everything was moving too slowly, and yet I wasn’t even on my feet. I couldn’t make sense of it at all. Nothing made sense.
My cheek hurt, and my hands ached where my palms bled from where the gravel had pierced. My knees burned, as well. And then I was on my back, and someone’s hands were around my throat. I clawed, my fingernails digging in but not gaining purchase in the gloves. Why was the person wearing gloves? Had they been prepared for this? Why couldn’t I focus? Why couldn’t I think?