How could I have been so wrong to think I could ever forget this, or pretend it didn’t matter?
As if a light goes off in his head, reminding him why this isn’t okay, he pulls back, cheeks flushed, lips slightly swollen. His fingertips touch them before his brows knit and he takes another three steps back, nearly into the street.
“We can’t do this,” he spits out.
“You kissed me,” I growl, fed up that he’s trying to turn this on me. He’s the one who followed me out here, he’s the one who started fighting with me, and he’s the one who kissed me.
He shakes his head. “Forget it. Just fucking forget everything I said. We were a mistake, we’ve always been a mistake. Go be with my mom—your wife—I hope you two live a happy fucking life together.”
Before I even have a chance to say anything, he’s gone. He storms down the sidewalk, going who knows where, without so much as a backwards glance. It’s right there on the tip of my tongue to try to stop him, but even I’m not stubborn enough to think that would end well. Maybe some distance between us will do some good.
By the time I make it back inside, and sit down beside Valerie, I can still feel the pillow softness of his lips against mine, and my body is still vibrating. Somehow, I’m able to make it through the rest of the party without issue.
Valerie and I get home a little after eleven, and as I’m pouring a nightcap in the kitchen, my phone goes off in my pocket. Grabbing it out, I’m surprised to see the name flashing across the screen.
“Enzo?”
“Hey, Zeke. Sorry to call you so late.” I can tell he has me on speaker inside his vehicle.
“What’s up? Is everything okay?”
“Well, yes and no.”
I roll my eyes at his half answer as I take a sip of my whiskey. “Spit it out.”
“Val’s son is in custody.”
My eyes bug out as I choke on my drink. “Elias?”
“He got into a fight with some out of towner at the bar on fifth and Dale. The kid may press charges. Elias is sitting in the drunk tank for a while until he can sober up.”
“I’ll be right there.”
Shit.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Elias Carnell
The sun is unforgiving as it beats down on me, sweat soaking my hair and trailing down my back. I’ve been at this track at the local high school for the last hour, half walking, half running around it, trying to clear my head.
One of my best friends and old college roommate, Bodhi, is a runner. He always talked about how running cleared his head and how well he was able to work through shit. All it’s done for me, though, is make me wish for fall and realize how out of shape I am, despite all the yoga I do on a daily basis.
Every step I take, I’m also reminded in the form of body aches of the big fucking mistake that happened last night. Well, both mistakes, because if I’m being honest with myself, fucking my stepdad wasn’t exactly my first wrongdoing of the night. Yes, it was the most severe of the offenses, but it wasn’t the first.
I never should’ve let Jordan fuck me. He said he was down for some fun and that he doesn’t want anything serious, but I slept with him knowing it was to get my mind off someone else. And that’s so fucked up. Nobody deserves that.
Taking the cowardly way out, I sent him a text this morning, telling him I’ve got a lot going on in my life right now, and adding sex to it probably isn’t a smart move, and that I hope we can at least remain friends.
It’s a lie. All I seem to do lately is lie. And more than that, it was a shitty lie. Thankfully, he responded quickly, and didn’t seem too bothered by it. He agreed to remain friends, and said there were no hard feelings.
And then there’s Zeke… Christ, what the fuck was I thinking?
I wasn’t thinking; that’s the problem. Around Zeke, my brain turns to mush. And something he said last night while he was fucking me has been nagging at my brain all morning.
“What was it you said that night you got arrested? Nobody compares to me… do they, baby?”
The thing that’s tripping me up is that I don’t rememberanythingfrom the night of my arrest.
