I downplayed it because I was feeling defensive about Sloane implying Kristen was a blind spot for me, but I’m not just blind. I’m stupid too. Because I truly believed Kristen understood me when I said this was over.
“What are you doing?”
Her smile fractures a bit, the first vestiges of doubt wrinkling her brow. “I’m… Do I need to spell it out for you, babe?”
She pushes the covers away, revealing the rest of her slender form as she gets on her hands and knees, crawling to the edge of the bed and reaching for my belt. I take a step back.
“Jesus, Kris. You know that we’re—” I pull in a sharp breath, biting back the harsh words crowding my tongue, because they sound too muchlike my father did when he was berating my mother. No matter how annoyed I am right now, I won’t turn into him.
It’s too late for that. Stringing women along was Gabriel Alexander’s bread and butter,a nasty voice whispers in my head.How many women did he use up and throw away just like you’re about to do this poor girl?
“We’re not doing this anymore,” I finish finally, backing away to put some distance between us. I won’t go back to Sloane smelling like Kristen’s perfume.
“Nic.” She pouts, stumbling off of the bed. “I need this. I need you. You never used to have a problem with helping me relieve stress from work. What’s so different now?”
Everything.
“We’re not together, Kristen. I told you I wasn’t doing this with you anymore.”
“You said that before, Nic, but you came back to me.” She crosses the room to me, arms trying to close around my waist. I put my hands on her shoulders to stop her from coming closer. Undeterred, she runs a hand down my chest and smiles. “You can’t deny that we’re good together, baby. Come to bed with me. Let me remind you how good I make you feel.”
“No.” I ease her back gently.
Thankfully, she keeps her distance, but both of her brows pinch together, and her mouth turns into a thin line at my gentle rebuff. She crosses her arms over her chest in a protective gesture that makes no sense considering she’s the one propositioning me in my bedroom.
“What’s your problem? Everything was going so great with us until a few weeks ago. We were getting back on track! Working our way back to each other, back to where we were before you lost your fucking mind and broke up with me!”
She plops down on the edge of my bed and glances up at me with teary eyes.
What? In what world were we working our way back to each other? Having casual sex is nowhere near trying to reconcile.
I brace both hands behind my head, and my threaded fingers dig into my scalp. “That was never the plan, Kris. You said you wanted a casual situation after we broke up, and I was good with that for a while, but I’m not anymore. I want more for me, and quite frankly,youdeserve more than I could ever give you.”
“I don’t want more, Nic. I want you!”
Tears spill over her cheeks as she searches the room for something to shield herself from the truth of my words. I hate seeing her cry, even more so while she’s naked and vulnerable on my bed. I cross the room, turning my back to her while I rummage through my dresser and pull out a shirt and some shorts for her to put on.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, probably a message from Sloane wondering what’s taking me so long, and frustration bubbles in my chest. I want to get back to her, to go back to the magic of our night together before Hurricane Kristen swept in.
Making your own storm and getting mad when it rains? The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, huh?
It takes everything in me not to look at my phone, to keep Sloane waiting again, but all of my attention needs to be on Kristen right now. Getting her calm. Getting her out of my apartment, so I can get back to Sloane.
The room is quiet as I make my way back to the bed. Kristen’s unanswered confession hangs in the air between us. I place the clothes in her hands, and she stares angry daggers into the space above my head.
“I’m sorry,” I say, backing away to give her some space. “Put the clothes on, Kris. I’ll be in the living room.”
A sarcastic snort leaves her as I walk toward the door. Then the sound of glass shattering on the left side of my head rings in my ears. I turn towardthe noise just in time to see a framed picture of me and my mom clattering to the floor. Frozen, I stare at the glass shards scattered over the image. It’s from the last birthday I got to celebrate with her before she died.
She recruited Eric to keep me busy all day, so she and Mama could decorate our small yard with balloons and streamers and other cheesy decorations for a surprise party. No one knew my dad had ruined the surprise earlier in the week during a rant about how worthless I was, so they didn’t catch the disgusting smirk on his face when he watched me pretend I was surprised just for my mom’s sake.
The picture laying on the ground was taken right after I walked in. My mom’s frail arms are wrapped around my torso, and she’s beaming up at me, looking beautiful even though her hair had long since fallen out and the treatments kept her rail-thin.
Annoyance flares in my chest, and it’s narrowly beaten out by the shock simmering in my veins. I’ve always known Kristen had a temper, but she’s never been violent or cruel like this. A triumphant grin twists her features as she comes back around to the foot of the bed. The clothes I just gave her lay discarded on the floor as she struts past me.
“A temper tantrum.” I follow her out into the living room. “How mature.”
Wary of having yet another one of my belongings thrown at me, I give her a wide berth. Tension rolls off of her in waves as she slides on her coat and fastens the belt.
