“I have to go.” And then she left straight through the door without stopping.
She could run, but I was prepared to do anything for her now. I needed answers. I knew she wasn’t ready to tell me. I called the prospect, Blaze, the tech genius that knew what to do for his own good.
“I need anything and everything you can get on Amelia Flynn.”
His confused voice answered, “Melody’s nurse?”
Mine. The possessive beast inside wanted to say.
“Yes, and I’m feeling generous, I’ll give you twenty-four hours.” I said, hanging up before he could sputter something else. I laid back on the bed, with the pill bottle in my hands. I had another motivation to get better.
What were you hiding, peaches?
Chapter 8
Amelia
Ididn’t know if I wanted to cry or laugh. I don’t know what happened. What the fuck did I do? It was like another person took over my mind and body.
They always said that acting on your impulsive thoughts could be dangerous.
All I wanted to do was shut him up. Or even try to convince him to listen to me and let me do my job. There was another part of me that laughed and said “that’s not what that was, baby girl”.
I got lost in the moment.
I kissed Shooter.
Ikissedhim.
What the hell came over me? Had I been so touch-starved that I was willing to do anything or anyone?
No, that wasn’t it.
He was just so frustrating, the stubborn ass that was trying to get under my skin and it worked.
It worked; what originally was a distraction turned into a key trying to unlock something buried deep. When our lips touched, there was a spark that lit up inside me. Like it awakened a deeppart of my soul that craved to be wanted, to be held, to be touched. I expected him to want more or hold me closer to him.
He let me lead it, to be the one to stop it. Yet, if I didn’t have a million thoughts in my head, I wouldn’t have stopped. I didn’t know which part was scarier to admit, the part where I didn’t want to stop or that I broke away.
I could still feel him on my lips.
My fingers traced where he once was, silently begging me to go back and do it over again.
I couldn’t let it happen again. I could argue that I didn’t know what came over me, but let’s be honest, I did. There was another side of me that didn’t want to admit it because I did want Shooter and knew I shouldn’t.
Would you listen to me?
In an untwisted world, I wouldn’t have been married to Chris, and maybe it wouldn’t have bothered me as much to think that it wasn’t okay. Fuck, I was still technically married in the eyes of society and the law. Though where it mattered the most, I was already divorced in my heart and mind.
Shooter was nothing like Chris, even in the early stages of our relationship. Shooter was observant, watched for every detail, noticed even the tiniest changes. Chris brushed the “little things” off like he simply forgot and tried to convince me that he knew every detail. Shooter knew how to get under my skin, but in a way that still could make me smile.
Whereas with Chris, it was like walking on eggshells, never knowing if he was joking or not and if I didn’t laugh at the correct one, I was in the wrong. Yet I catered to Chris, changed my every move to appease him. I lost myself in the years I spent with him.
I couldn’t get Shooter out of my head. Even the way he wrapped his arms around me, it wasn’t trapping but comforting like we were just melting into each other.
That feeling was what I wished for so long with Chris, my own “husband” and was denied. Though how can you call someone your “partner” or your “spouse” if they never acted like one? And maybe I shouldn’t have been around Shooter, maybe he’d make me wish that I walked away a lot sooner rather than have a gutted guilt in my chest.
I wanted to cry. I was so confused. I wanted to slam something against the wall and scream into the void. There were so many conflicting feelings that I was ready to break something. After all that I had been through, I just wanted to be “wanted”.
