I narrow my eyes when I spot the folded blanket and pillow stacked by his sofa bed. Why would he have extra bedding out? A small piece of paper is crumpled on the floor beside it. I move forward with uneven steps and pick up the note. A strange lump forms in my throat as I read it, even though I don’t know what it means or who’s apologizing.
It’s not hard to guess though.
Joshua’s dad enters my mind. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s showed up without notice. Breaking his son down all over again. Making him question himself.
The feeling in my chest squeezes, and I turn to look at the door Joshua walked out of. The door he closed behind him without a second thought.
I can’t pretend to understand what he’s feeling right now, but he could have stayed. He could have talked to me. Instead, despite everything that just passed between us, he chose to leave me in the dark. It’s not the first time, and I have a sinking feeling it won’t be the last.
Hunt
Fuck.Fuck.
My fingers are shaking when I rake them through my hair, pacing barefoot across the yard, eyes on the grass. What the hell is wrong with me?
I hurt her. The one person I’m so desperate not to hurt, and I go and fuckingmarkher. Push her up against the door. Dive under her dress like some rabid animal.
I swallow, my head spinning as I yank open the door of my truck, no clue where I’m headed.
I just needed to feel her, to hold her, to listen to those words over and over.
Always, Joshua.
Always yours.
Shit, I never knew it could feel so good to hear those words. And to hear them from Blue ... it set something off in me. Something that slid down my chest, hot and smooth as liquor, and I wanted to drink it down forever.
I’m still trembling when I shove the keys into the ignition and tear my truck away from the curb.
What’s wrong with me? I want to blame my dad, but I know I can’t. I can’t. My dad treats women like shit, but as far as I know, he never hurts them. Bruises them. Disgust burns in my throat as I picture the marks peppering her flushed body. Her innocent eyes widening at the look on my face.
I had just wanted to ... to ... I don’t know ...
But my knuckles whiten against the steering wheel because that’s not true. I do know what I wanted. I wanted to love her. To make love to her. To cradle her in my arms and tell her how lucky I am to have her.
Instead, I fucked her like always. No, worse than always. Up against a door, quick and hard, starving and relentless.
And I honestly and truly don’t know what the fuck is wrong with me. Why can’t I love her like a normal boyfriend would? Like a good boyfriend would? Why do I have to be so dark inside? Why can’t I get this sick, obsessive black oil out of my skin? Out of my pores?
Is this what Dad saw? Is this what makes it so easy for him to leave me? To use me?
Maybe he saw it in me all along. Maybe it was never him to blame to begin with—something inside me is just broken.
He never forced me to follow in his footsteps, plowing through girls without ever getting too close. He never suggested I seek out illegal fighting, then go back even on the nights the money’s crap; even when I know I might get caught.
Even when I know the future I’m risking.
A decent boyfriend would have stayed. Apologized a million times over. Told her everything she means to me, every way I want to love her. But I’m not decent, and words are just words. Iwantto love her. Iwantto be good for her. But with my insides ugly and confused, I don’t know how to show it. I don’t know how to fix this, how to be what she deserves, and that fact only makes me more hopeless.
I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.
Taking a deep breath, my gaze slides to the passenger seat where a stack of schoolbooks are piled, then to the clock.
It’s Sunday. I’m supposed to be headed to a tutoring session. I flick my tongue across my lip, exhaling as I think about Principal Lori’s last conversation with me.
“I’ve got my essay, ma’am. It’s done; I just need to rework a couple—”
“This isn’t about your essay.”
