She yanked her hands away. "Yeah, well I do." She stepped back, out of my reach. "Now, will one of you dickheads get my clothes so I can get out of here?"
I looked to Bishop. He nodded and turned to head upstairs. After he'd gone, I turned back to Chloe. She stood, huddled in the blanket, barefoot and trembling.
I had never begged a girl before. I'd never wanted to. I'd never needed to. But now, knowing what I'd done, and knowing what I'd lost, I was ready to do anything.
I stepped toward her and fell to my knees. "Chloe, I am so fucking sorry."
She made a sound of disgust. "Yeah, whatever."
When I reached out, she slapped away my hands. "Touch me again, and I'll kill you. I mean it."
In spite of the brave words, she looked small and tired. I couldn’t help but remember that today was her birthday.
I'd known that already, but thinking of it now, the knowledge felt like a knife to my heart – a knife I deserved. Just yesterday, I'd held her in my arms. She'd been my girl. My birthday girl.
Now, she was the girl who hated me. And the sad thing was, I had it coming.
I looked up at her and whispered, "I'm sorry."
"Shut up," she said. "I don't want to hear it."
Too soon, Bishop returned from upstairs, carrying her clothes bundled in his arms. At the sight of me kneeling, his steps faltered. He gave me a look that said it all.You poor fucked-up bastard.
He was right. Ihadfucked up. And I was a bastard, literally.
Without a word, he delivered the clothes straight to Chloe and left as silently as he'd come.
Chloe and I were alone again. It might be the last time we were alone. Still on my knees, I reached out. "Chloe—"
"I don't want to hear it." She glanced away. "And for God's sake, get up."
My voice was ragged. "No."
"I mean it," she said. "And turn your back." She gave me a nasty smile. "Unless you want to get out your handcuffs again." Her lips twisted. "And get yourself a nice, good look."
The comment hit home. Filled with shame, I pushed myself up and turned away, listening as she started getting dressed. I couldn't see her, but I could make out the sounds. When she zipped up her jeans, I gave it a few more seconds and then turned to face her. She was crouched down, lacing up her tennis shoes.
I couldn’t help it. Ihadto tell her. "Chloe, please." My voice was desperate, and my eyes were damp. "Don't go. Not like this. I love you. You know I do. Stay, please?"
"And what if I don't?" she said. "What are you gonna do? Handcuff me again?"
"You've gotta understand –"
"No." She cut me off. "I don'thaveto understand anything. You didn't need to keep me here. If you wanted to know anything, about any of that stuff, or whatever, all you had to do was ask."
I felt myself swallow. It was true. And it wasn't. "Baby," I said, "I did ask. You never answered. I'm sorry, but –" I pushed a hand through my hair. "Look, I know I fucked up. Majorly fucked up."
When she said nothing, I kept on going. "But I guess it just all made me kind of crazy. I mean, I'd fallen so hard for you, and when I thought you were just using me like –" At the memory of Brandy, I shook my head and looked away.
"Like what?" Chloe said.
I met her gaze. "Likewho."
"Okay, then who?" She smirked. "Brittney?"
"No," I said. "Someone else."
"Who?" she demanded.
