“I’ll go,” Christian husks, broken.
“I—”
“I know. It’s okay,” he says. He gently lifts me off his bodyand onto the couch. His hands around my waist linger before he finally—reluctantly—lets me go. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I watch him leave the same way he came, and the yellow door closes behind him. The sound of a car door closing comes next, and I curl into myself on my sofa, waiting for the engine to roar.
It doesn’t, and somehow that hurts more.
I force myself off the couch and kick off my heels, my vision clouding. The only light coming into the living room is from the street lamps, no headlights. I pad over to the window and split the blinds with my thumb and forefinger, blinking, and I find him in his driver’s seat. The seat is reclined and he lies there with an arm bent under his head and the other on his chest.
I want to invite him in, tell him to stay in the guest room. He is sleeping in his two seater car and his long legs and his back are being tortured—my Christian.
But then what?
I know better. I know that if I let him in, I’ll let him off easy and I’ll let him kiss me when there needs to be boundaries. There needs to beproof.Actions.
I cry in the shower and some more against my pillow, my heart twisting knowing he is in his car when he could be next to me. But at least he’s near, right? I think I actually like having him here.
CHAPTER 6
Christian
Isigned up for the gym in town last week—the one Julian owns.
The gym became the alternative for drinking and other reckless things I rather not think about. And I’m fairly certain it’s the only reason I look like this.
On particularly rough days, I would spend hours in the gym—much longer than necessary. Sometimes it wasn’t enough, and sometimes I was scared to go home because I knew what would happen.
I would wallow in self pity, in my sadness, and think about her, and want a drink so it could stop. It was unhealthy, all of it, I know. It got better eventually, with some therapy and rehab. And now I can’t go more than two days without a workout. But I suppose it’s a good habit, right?
It’s better than being shitfaced and waking up in a pool of your own vomit.
I’m also here to give Lana space. I know she hates me in her driveway, invading her space. Trespassing on her property and all, but if it weren’t for her I don’t think I would havecome back or recovered at all. I would have allowed myself to die and begged them to let me.
I feel like I haven’t been able to breathe since last night.
I kissed her the way her lips were meant to be kissed—the way we’ve always kissed—and brought her inside. I sat her down on that table and didn’t want anything else but to kiss her and hold her.
I didn’t want to take off her clothes for any reason other than to feel her skin on mine. I wanted to remember what it was like to feel like we were one person, one entity that would never be separated.
I had her once. She was mine and I loved her more than I ever loved anything. She wasmineand I would have—still would—taken a bullet for her. Torn the world to shreds, burn it to nothing. She wouldn’t even have to say please or ask.
But today, I’m here with the guys who insisted on me running them through my usual workout for push day, and they’re all dying already.
“You guys are pathetic,” I laugh at them.
Julian comes toward us in the corner in a tight t-shirt and his sleeve of tattoos. “Ladies.”
“Shut up,” Nico grumbles.
Julian chuckles. “I see you’ve ruined them.”
“They can’t keep up, not my problem.” I shrug. “How are you, man? How’s Grace?”
Julian rolls his lips, nodding. “She’s good, yeah.”
I hate seeing him like this. “She’s cute.”
