Page 132 of Craving Consequences
The sweet folds of her lips settle over mine with such heartbreaking sadness.
“No.” She draws back, fingertips whisper along my jaw. “You will lose Lauren. She will never forgive you.” Her touch whispers over my mouth, silencing me when I start to speak. “You are her clause. Her one rule as my friend was that I never touch you. I have already burned my bridge with her, but she will never speak to you again if you stay with me and I know that will devastate you.”
I can’t argue her logic. I can’t pretend I would be fine cutting my daughter from my life. I love Lauren. I made a promise to Terese that I would never abandon her.
“I’m sorry I’ve made this so complicated,” she whispers. “It wasn’t supposed to be.”
It shouldn’t be. That’s the problem. In a normal situation ... okay, so nothing about this is normal, but no one would have given a shit who I have in my bed in the city.
Still ... Lauren.
She never liked me dating. Never approved the idea of me with another woman for longer than a night. And I get it. She wants me loyal to her mom — and that was fine in the beginning because I had no interest in finding another person. I probably never would if it wasn’t for Everly.
I love her.
It may not be the same love I had for Terese. It may not be safe and comfortable, and easy, but she makes me happy. She gives me a sense of peace I haven’t felt in years. I look at her and I feel like I’m home.
But I know that won’t matter to Lauren. Everly is ... was her best friend. That’s a betrayal unworthy of forgiveness. She will never speak to me. And with all the losses, she may revert back to the drugs and destruction, and this time, I won’t be able to pull her out.
“Fuck!”
Everly’s bottom lip quivers like she can feel my heart breaking. “I’m sorry.”
My fingers close into the back of her skull and I drag her in. I kiss her hard and angry. I pour my frustrations into the grinding of our lips.
“I’m going to figure this out,” I snarl into her mouth. “I’m not losing you.”
Rather than answer or look relieved, she slips her arms around my shoulders and buries her face into my neck.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
LACHLAN
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What a fucking mess.
I jerk on the cords keeping the tarp securely pinned in place over the patio chairs. The neat stalk is braced against the side of the house, untouched by the storm. It’s more than I can say for the chaos of broken branches and debris strewn across the yard. Van has most of it pulled into a pile, but there is no way we’re getting this place set up in the short time we have left.
I turn away from my friend, ignore the hard set of his shoulders, the angry strides of his legs as he throws himself into the task like it’s the most important thing he’s ever had to do.
I get it.
Speaking the words out loud, putting them into unfaltering perspective was gutting. Hearing the facts and knowing there is nothing we can do to alter the course of our future is a kick to the gut. It doesn’t even matter that I’ve known this was coming since the night at the bar. I prepared myself. Braced, and still I feel knocked to my knees.
“Fuck sakes,” I breathe under my breath.
My gaze squints out over the sea of damp green to the soft roll of murky gray reflecting the overcast sky. The wind is starting to stir again, disturbing the trees and creating choppy waves across the lake. It carries the scent of rain sprinkled with pine sap and wet earth.
It’s all for show. The weather doesn’t call for another storm, but I still pick up my pace; I won’t put Everly’s life at risk if I’m wrong and we’re caught in another downpour.
I stalk across the patio and down to join Van. The earth sinks beneath my boots and the wet blades soak the hems of my jeans, but I close the distance.
“We’re not getting this set up today,” I tell him as he chucks a branch onto the pile.
Van straightens and faces me. His wide chest expands beneath the thin fabric of his t-shirt and bunches across the broad width of his shoulders when he lifts a tree trunk of an arm and swipes at his brow with his forearm.
“No,” he agrees reluctantly.
