“I didn’t even want to go,” I whispered. My stomach tightened, and I didn’t know if I should rat Melissa out to her own father or keep my friend’s drama to myself. But after a few moments, I sighed. “Melissa … made me feel uncomfortable.”
He arched a brow. “What did she do?”
I tightened the towel around my torso. “She, um, asked me to sleep with her boyfriend.”
Michael clenched his jaw even harder. He parted his lips, pressed them back together, and furrowed his brows, looking me up and down. “Did you?”
“No! I would never sleep with Victor. But she was so adamant, and …” I shook my head. “I didn’t have anyone who could take me back to the hospital, and I didn’t know what to do. She had never acted like that before. I was … scared.” I shook my head yet again. “I’m sorry I just left her there.”
A heap of guilt washed over me. God, I wasn’t only a bad girlfriend to Mason and a badthingto Michael, but I was also a bad friend to Melissa. I had left her at a party, drunk out of her fucking mind, with guys who wanted to fuck her senseless. I should’ve stayed and made sure she got home all right instead of running out like the loser I was.
Michael sighed deeply through his nose. “Melissa,” he muttered under his breath, rubbing the creases in his forehead with his index finger and thumb.
I wrapped the towel around myself, wiping the beads of water off my chest. “I should’ve stayed and made sure she was okay, not left.”
What was wrong with me? I was a mess. I had family problems, boyfriend problems, friend problems, every freaking problem I could think of … and I had no way of solving any of them. I continued to dig myself deeper and deeper into a hole.
“Victor texted me earlier. She’s with him. Don’t worry about her.”
Someone knocked on the front door, and my stomach tightened. He had company this late at night? Maybe … maybe I should leave and get out of his hair. He didn’t need someone like me fucking up the rest of his life.
He handed me a spare change of clothes—his shirt and sweatpants—and excused himself. I finished drying myself off, stared at my puffy red eyes in the mirror, and got dressed. I parted my lips and thought about what I should do to excuse myself without being rude about it.
I’d already ruined one of his dates tonight.
After coming up with some lame excuses and deciding that they wouldn’t cut it, I hung the towel on the hook and walked downstairs to find him. Ready to tell him that I was leaving, I parted my lips … but then I stopped.
Michael stood at the bar with a box of pizza, a bottle of wine, and two wine glasses. He looked over at me, eyes drifting down my body and then back up it, and the smallest smile crawled onto his face. “You look good in my clothes, Mia.”
“I, um …” My cheeks flushed, and in that moment, I made the one decision that would change my life forever.
I wasn’t going to leave. I wanted to stay with him—for more than the night. He had done so much for me that Mason wouldn’t have ever done. He had stayed with me, even when I’d told him he didn’t have to. He made a damn effort, and I had been nothing but a bitch to him.
I hopped down the last stair and smiled at him. “Thank you.”
CHAPTER24
MIA
After handing me a glass of wine, he brought the bottle and the pizza to the coffee table.
“Sit,” he said.
I walked over to the couch and plopped down onto it.
He sat next to me and grabbed a slice. “We need to talk.”
The words I had been dreading this entire night.
“About what?” I asked, trying not to burn my tongue on the cheese.
He raised a brow at me and cleared his throat. I expected him to say something along the lines ofYou know exactly what we need to talk about, but instead, he asked, “Are you okay?”
I raised my brows at him, surprised at the question, and stuffed the slice in my mouth, not caring how hot it was. I took some time to chew and to calm myself down. “I’m fine. Tonight was just—”
“I’m not talking about tonight.” He paused for a moment. “I never asked you if you were okay. I doubt anyone did after what happened to your mother.”
My gaze fell to the wine glass, and I picked it up. Thinking about the whole situation made me feel like becoming a damn drunk because I felt so helpless. I drew my finger across the rim. “It’s happened before,” I said. “I dealt with it then, and I’ll deal with it now.”
