by Jamie Howard
He covers his yawn with the back of his hand. “Thanks, Sloane, I think I might just do that.”
I try to think what he might want to eat and settle on a chocolate milkshake. I know he likes them; they’re full of fat, and all he needs to do is suck on a straw. That seems fairly effortless. With a milkshake in one hand and some aspirin tucked in my apron to combat his days-long bender, I leave my kitchen sanctuary.
He’s alone for the moment, sitting in the front booth. I slide in on the seat opposite him, but he shows no sign of recognition. Pushing the milkshake across the table toward him, I say, “Hey.”
He doesn’t answer, but that’s not really a surprise. Not sure what to say, I babble as I peel the wrapper off the straw. “Archer was telling me that you haven’t been eating all that well. You really need to take care of yourself. I made this milkshake just for you. I know you like them.”
When that doesn’t work, I reach into my apron and scoop up two aspirin. Taking his hand in mine, I turn it over and drop them there. “I know you’ve got to be in a lot of pain; maybe this will help.”
His gaze sharpens, and his eyes flicker down to his hand. I’m so afraid of pushing him back into the hole he’s been hiding in that I don’t even breathe.
When he speaks, his voice is hoarse and gravelly. “Aspirin? You think this is going to help with my pain?” He stares straight through me, eyes burning. His fingers clench around the small white pills so hard that the muscles stand out in his forearm. He surges to his feet. “I don’t want your fucking aspirin, Sloane!” He flings the pills forward and they ricochet off the wall. “And I don’t want your fucking milkshake!” He picks that up and heaves it across the room. It narrowly misses a man’s head before it shatters against the wall, frozen brown droplets exploding across the room. “You know what else I don’t want?” He leans down on his hands and gets up in my face. It takes everything I have not to flinch away. “I don’t want your pity, so just leave me the fuck alone.”
As he storms out of the diner, nearly knocking a table over in the process, I close my eyes and bite my lip to keep from crying. I press my hands against the table as I try to draw a breath into my constricted lungs. The room is so quiet that I can hear where the milkshake drips off the wall and onto the floor.
My heart is thundering so hard in my chest that I can hear the blood rushing in my ears.
Blaire stoops next to me. “Are you okay?”
I nod like a bobblehead on crack. “I’m fine.” I push myself to my feet, pressing my hand to my lips. “I need to … Excuse me.”
They’re all staring at me and I can’t take it. Deep down I know he’s only lashing out at me because he’s hurting, but that doesn’t mean that he didn’t just rip my heart from my chest and stomp on it.
* * *
I’ve watched the hands on my clock circle its face three times, but I still can’t sleep. I can’t stop seeing Luke’s face as he yelled at me. If I could take his pain for him, I would, but now I have pain of my own to deal with. Not that mine is even comparable to Luke’s. I don’t know when my heart got entangled in this whole mess, but at some point I’d gone from loathing him to really caring about him. Maybe even loving him.
I can’t imagine when that was, but somewhere between his relentless pursuit for my friendship and that searing kiss on the beach, my heart had gone and done the unimaginable. It had dived right off the cliff knowing full well that it would suffer a cruel fate on the jagged rocks below.
Between the damage Nick inflicted and the additional work Luke has done, my heart is one tiny crack away from shattering entirely.
I cover my face with my hands, trying to hide from the reality of it.
There’s a light rapping on my window, and I have to stuff my hand in my mouth to keep from screaming. My heart is racing at a million miles an hour when I catch sight of Luke peering at me through the glass. The moon silhouettes him from behind, giving him an ethereal glow while hiding his face in shadows.
I take two long breaths through my nose to try to steady myself before pushing the window open. He climbs right through it onto my bed and closes it behind him. The suit from earlier is gone, replaced by black athletic shorts and a gray T-shirt.
He smells like he showered in whiskey, and even in the dim lighting the redness of his eyes is apparent.
I don’t know what to say, so I wait for him to say something.
When he does, the words seem to stick in his throat. “I’m so sorry … I didn’t mean.…” His voice chokes off and a lone tear takes a curving path down his cheek. He squeezes his eyes shut and his head slumps forward.
“Hey, it’s okay.” I reach out for him, and he lets me wrap my arms around him. Something in him breaks, and his body trembles as the emotions seem to flow out of him. His sobs are muffled in my shoulder, and in minutes my nightshirt is soaked with his tears. I hold on to him as tightly as I can, knowing that it’s the only thing I can do, and hoping that it’s enough.
I rub my hands across his back in circles, making shushing noises in his ear.
Reigning himself back in, he takes a deep breath and pulls back. When his eyes drift up to mine, he looks so broken. Tears cling to his eyelashes, clumping them together in wet spikes. I rest a hand against his cheek and swipe away a tear with the pad of my thumb. He cups his hand over mine, nestling his face into it, his warm breath tickling my palm.
We’re sitting so close together that our legs are touching, the wiriness of his leg hair tickling my knee. With his other hand he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, but his fingers linger there against my neck. My pulse thrums against his fingertips.
He dips his head toward mine and brushes my lips with his so gently it’s like someone traced a feather across them. My lips part under their pressure, and as they open, his tongue meets mine. He tastes just like he smells, like whiskey.
He pulls back and rests his forehead against mine, his lips so close that his breath mingles with mine.
“I need you.” The words whisper through his lips and I’m lost.
I crush my lips back against his. As our tongues tangle together, I move toward him, wanting to banish any space between us. I wrap my arms around his shoulders and shift so that I’m sitting in his lap. His hands run up the length of my thighs, gripping me around my hips. I run my fingers through his hair and hold his face to mine.
His hand slips underneath my nightshirt and traces a path across my stomach, over my rib cage, and up to my breast. He palms it in his hand, grazing my nipple with his thumb. It tightens under his touch and I sigh against his mouth.
Grasping the edges of his shirt, I tug it over his head so that I can feel all the hard planes of his body. I run my hands across his smooth and muscled chest. His arousal is wedged against me, and I grind against it, eliciting a groan from him. Discarding my nightshirt, he grabs me under my thighs and tumbles me back onto the bed.
Unbuttoning his pants, he kicks them off and then crawls across the bed to me. He holds his weight on his elbows, the warmth of his skin bleeding into mine. When he returns his lips to mine, I arch toward him, slipping my hand inside his boxer briefs. His breath hitches in his throat as I stroke my hand up and down his hard length.
Swirling circles down my neck with his tongue, he takes my nipple in his mouth and sucks on it, his hand rubbing against the outside of my panties. My hips rise off the bed seeking more. When his fingers slip inside me, I can’t prevent the moan that escapes my lips.
Raising myself up so I can bite down lightly on his earlobe, I say, “I want you, Luke.”
A low growl rumbles in his throat at my words. He makes quick work discarding our remaining clothing, and there’s the quick crinkle of a foil wrapper before he returns, covering my body with his own.
When he slides inside me, I lift my hips to meet him and wrap my legs around his. I meet him thrust for thrust and hold his lips captive. Pleasure coils within me, building higher and higher, winding tighter and tighter.
He grabs hold of my hips and angles them upward so that he can fill me more deeply. His breath comes in ragged gasps when he reaches between us and touches me at my center. I come apart and spiral out of control. He follows seconds later, burying his head against my neck as he loses himself in me.
Spent, he collapses on my chest, his skin slicked with sweat. As he rolls to his side, he pulls me with him so that we’re lying side by side with our noses touching.
He kisses me softly, reverently on the lips, then once more on the tip of my nose. I snuggle closer against his side. With my head resting against his chest, I can hear his heart pattering beneath it, beating out a frantic pace. It only takes a minute for his breathing to turn deep and regular. This time, it’s me who follows him, and we’re both asleep within minutes.
Chapter 23
Luke
I wake to the smell of coconuts. It’s so out of place from the things I normally find when I wake up that it rips me to the surface of consciousness. As I crack my eyes open, I can see Sloane’s head tucked underneath my chin. Our legs and arms are intertwined around each other in a mass of limbs.
What did I do?
I want to hit something. I want to scream until my throat is raw.
I can’t even name all the ways that this is the most terrible thing I’ve ever done. I might not have taken advantage of her at her family’s party, but I didn’t have any qualms about doing it last night. I needed comfort, and she had given it to me. She’d given me her body to ease my hurt. Selfless to the core, she’d offered up all of herself, even to a screwup like me.
She’s never been shy about the way she feels about me, so I know without a doubt that last night was a pity fuck. I sobbed my heart out on her shoulder and she gave me what I wanted. What I needed. The thought makes me sick.
Everything I feel for Sloane is tangled up in what I’m feeling about Cash, and it’s too much. Her family thinks I’m scum, and if they knew how I used her last night, it would only serve to prove them right.
Sloane deserves better than this, better than me.
God forbid she actually feels something for me. I think that might be worse than her pity, because I can’t give her what she needs. I’m so messed up that even she can’t put me back together. Even if she could, I wouldn’t want her to waste her time trying. I should only be a bump in Sloane’s road, not the sinkhole that drags her down with me.
The best thing for Sloane is to do is to wipe me from her mind and forget about me. The pitiful truth is that Sloane is the one person left that I give a damn about, and it’s for exactly that reason I need to let her go. I ruin people. I destroy them, and I’d never survive if my carelessness landed her in a body bag like I’d already done to Cash. No—just because my life is going down the tubes doesn’t mean she has to take the ride with me.
I need to end this thing, whatever it is, before it goes any further. Sloane needs to get as far away from me as possible, and I know exactly how to make that happen.
I know full well that once I put this plan into motion she’ll never look at me in that way that makes my heart swell to the point of bursting. In all likelihood, she’ll probably never look at me again. Once she finds out what I’ve done, I’ll have to exist on only the memories I’ve been able to store up of her, and I’m not sure a lifetime of memories would be enough.
As softly as I can manage, I trace my fingers over her cheek, trying to memorize her face. Imprinting this moment on my heart, I store up the feeling, knowing that this is the best it’s ever going to get for me.
Chapter 24
Sloane
The bed beside me is cold and empty when I finally drag myself back to the land of the living. Rolling over, I brush back my hair from my face, surveying the room for any sign of Luke. If it wasn’t for his scent that still clings to the pillow, I’d think last night was all a vivid fantasy I concocted in my mind.
I hope he left to avoid an awkward confrontation with Gran, but I can’t help thinking that he completely regrets everything that happened last night. If nothing else, he’s probably embarrassed that he broke down in front of me. He is a guy, after all, and apparently showing any form of weakness is the worst thing that could ever possibly happen.
Shoving back the covers, I throw on some clothes and poke my head out into the hall. It’s deserted, along with the rest of the house. Where is everyone?
Back in my room, I fish my cell phone out of my purse, finding a text from Blaire. She’s off at the mall doing some “much needed” shopping. I roll my eyes at the screen. The last thing Blaire needs is more clothes; she could probably clothe the entire state of California with the massive amount of clothing she has in her closet back home.
I can’t help wishing she’d stuck around this morning; I could really use someone to talk to. I’m teetering on the precipice of disaster, and there is only the slimmest chance that this could possibly end well. I want to tell Luke the truth about how I feel about him, but the timing is terrible. On top of that, I’m almost positive he doesn’t feel the same. Why would he want to give up a different woman every night for me?
Determined to keep my mind occupied, I spend the day on the beach soaking in the sun, but I’m so restless that I can’t keep still. I toss and turn on my towel, the wires of my earbuds getting tangled around my neck. The hours seem to drag on and on, until I finally can’t stand it anymore.
There’s no rule that I have to wait until tonight to talk to Luke. I’m done waiting.
By the time I shower and change, it’s nighttime anyway. I’m not sure where I’ll find him, but my best bet is that he’ll be at The Edge. If nothing else, it’s a good starting point. Hopping into the car, I take extra care to pay attention while I’m driving, since my mind is all over the place.
Throwing it in park, I clench the steering wheel in my hands, wrapping my fingers around the smooth leather. I’ll just tell him how I feel, and that’s that. If he feels the same, great, but if he doesn’t, then I’ll be fine.
I’ll be fine.
If I keep repeating it to myself, then it must be true. When, in another few minutes, he shrugs me off and tells me that he’s not the kind of guy who only sees one woman and that he doesn’t feel the same, I won’t let my heart shatter into little pieces. I’ve already reinforced all the cracks with superglue so that it will hold.
I still can’t believe that I did it—I’ve fallen in love with Luke Evans.
I blow out a heavy breath through my mouth. I need to get it over with before I give myself a heart attack from all the anxiety.
My heart is doing a tap dance in my chest when I push open the door. I do a quick sweep of the room but don’t see him. I do, however, see Archer. If anyone knows where he is, he will.
Sweeping through the crowd, I grab Archer’s attention. “Hey, have you seen Luke around?”
He takes a swig from his beer bottle and nods. “Yeah, he’s here.” He tilts the brown bottle in the direction of the side door. “He went around back a few minutes ago.”
“Great, thanks.” I flash him a smile and waste no time making my way toward the door he pointed out.
Through the door is a small alley. It’s empty except for a lone black trash bag propped up in the corner against the brick wall. There’s a closed door a few feet up ahead. I can only assume that it might lead to a storage room of some sort. Is he working tonight?
Before trying the knob, I go a little farther to the window to see what might be behind the door. The blind has been drawn up, so I lean forward to peer through the grimy window.
When I do, my heart stops. It actually stops. It feels like someone dropped an anvil on my chest. I can’t breathe.
I clap both hands over my mouth. To stop myself from screaming, or crying, or throwing up—I’m not exactly sure.
Luke leans against the wall with his eyes closed and his lips slightly parted. His fingers are fisted in a fall of dark brown hair, as a head bobs up and down, sucking him off. There’s a neon
Heineken sign hanging off to the side of his head, throwing green slivers of light around the room.
Running a hand up under his shirt, the girl pulls back just slightly and looks up at him. It takes me a second to realize that it’s not the light that’s making her eyes look green. They are green.
The realization hits me like a baseball bat to the stomach—it’s Blaire.
I’m stumbling backward before I even know I’m moving, but my feet are moving faster than my brain. I fall, landing heavily on my hands and knees. The asphalt bites into my skin, and when I stand, a stream of blood trickles down my leg.
I run for my car as the tears start to fall. My lungs gasp for air, but no matter how many breaths I take, it still feels like I’m drowning. Slamming the car door closed behind me, I thump my head against the steering wheel. My tears fall like warm raindrops against my leg, plummeting over the edge of my knee and mingling with the blood that’s trickling down my legs.
I am so stupid. So dumb to believe that this was anything more.
Luke Evans didn’t just shatter my heart, he pulverized it.
Swiping my hands across my face, I swallow down the pain, the hurt, and the tears. I sweep all those ugly emotions under a rug and let my mind go blank. I back out of the parking lot and put Briscoll Bay in my rearview mirror, knowing that I will never let myself fall for someone like that again.
Correction: I will never let myself fall for anyone again.
I’ll never let the small remnants of my heart become part of the equation, because no matter what, I’ll always lose this game.
I push down on the accelerator, reaching for the numbness that I found after Cash’s death. I surround myself with it, injecting it into myself like a drug. My phone vibrates in my purse, but I ignore it. The road blurs in front of me in an endless stretch of black, the sky shifting through shades of blue as the hour grows later.
I make it to the Point in record time, and by the time I pull into my driveway, I’ve wiped every emotion from my face. Taking a quick peek in the mirror, I survey my face. Other than the raw rims of pink around my eyes, I look completely composed, if a little pale.
