And now, here I was, lying naked beside her, watching her sleep, and all I could think about was how to escape. How to get out of here with minimal damage and crawl back under the rock I never should’ve left the safety of.
Except there was no way to escape, not without causing an avalanche of hurt to a woman who didn’t deserve it.
I’d flirted with her, I’d chased her, I’dwonher. And now… I had to leave her.
Aspen was tough. She’d get over it. I wasn’t so egotistical to think that one lust-filled night and several orgasms were enough to ruin her life. Give her a week or two, and she’d have forgotten I existed.
Me, on the other hand? I’d remember last night for the rest of my life.
Which was the reason I couldn’t stick around. Aspen wasgoodin all the ways I wasn’t. I was only one bad day away from reverting to the drug and drink addict I’d been when Caroline reached out for help and I’d ignored her. Eight years sober didn’tmean a damn thing. Every addict knew that a cure didn’t exist for the disease we had. That was why it was calledrecovering. Never recovered. Never fully able to shake the demons that plagued us.
Better to live my life alone and lonely than to ruin someone else’s with my poison.
I wasn’t the same man I’d been back then. I knew that, but knowing who I’d been then and who I was now didn’t matter. My heart didn’t deal in logic. It dealt in trauma, and every beat right now was a warning bell.
I slipped out of bed as gently as I could. She stirred but didn’t wake. The weak glow from the sun as it cast an angelic light across her face seemed a cruel joke. The perfect woman on a perfect morning after a perfect night… and I couldn’t stay.
My discarded clothes lay scattered over Aspen’s living room. I quickly dressed, then searched through a couple of kitchen drawers for a pen and paper, grateful they didn’t scrape or creak when opened. I found what I was looking for and wrote her a note.
I’m sorry.
That was it. Two words that explained nothing, would answer none of the questions she was bound to have, and still,stillI gave her nothing more because I didn’t trust myself with more.
More would turn into confessions I had no business making. Once I started pouring that shit out, I wouldn’t stop. Not until she saw through to my rotten core and turned away from me anyway.
The lift doors silently glided open. By the time I reached the lobby, I’d already ordered a cab to take me back to my hotel to pack, and moved my return flight. Three hours was tight to do all that, but I’d make it work. I could finish the album in London. The only reason I’d come to New York to record was because Aspen had asked me to, and I’d wanted to be close to her.
You’re running away.
Yeah, I knew that, yet even knowing what a fucking coward I was didn’t stop the relentless march that would get me the hell out of America and back to the safety of my loft apartment in London. Back to familiar territory, where I could control the situation far easier than from here.
Aspen wouldn’t let this go. She’d demand answers I didn’t have, and sooner or later I’d have to face her and explain the unexplainable. But space and time would allow me to create an excuse that sounded plausible.
She’d probably see right through my bullshit, but if I stuck to the lie, what could she do? She couldn’t force me to tell her the real reason I was a waste of fucking space, a mess, a man she’d do well to stay away from.
I never should’ve chased her in the first place. I thought I’d had it all under control, but one night with Aspen had turned my life to rubble. I couldn’t afford to fall for her even more, to risk exposing the truth I’d spent the last eight years burying beneath layers of fraud and angry outbursts to repel intrusive questions.
As the car pulled away from the hotel, I didn’t look back. Didn’t look at my phone. Didn’t let myself think about Aspen still asleep in her bed, tangled in sheets that smelled like sex and regret.
I fucking hated myself.
Chapter 21
Aspen
FFS! Not again!
Consciousness slowly crept in,the early morning sun warming my face. Keeping my eyes closed, I slid my hand across the bed, reaching for Joz. He wasn’t there, and the mattress was cold. I opened my eyes, blinking to dispel the sting as light hit my retinas.
“Joz?”
He didn’t reply.
I cocked my ears for sounds of the coffee machine brewing a much-needed cup, or running water from the shower, or a reporter on TV relaying today’s dose of bad news.
Nothing.
I slipped out of bed and shrugged into a silk robe hanging on the back of the door. Tying the belt, I padded into the main living area.
