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“There’s another guest bedroom down the hall, and a main bathroom. There’s a storage cupboard opposite where you will find fresh towels and bedsheets. My office is the last door on the left.” He pauses for a second before adding, “It’s been a long day. Can I get you anything before we turn in?”
I stand from the bed and walk towards him slowly. With each step, his eyes are tightly fixed on me, and I can feel his gaze rake over my body in a way that sets me on fire. As if he hadn't meant to do it, he quickly turns around completely, so he’s facing me, keeping his eyes locked on mine.
We’re so close now, our fronts are almost touching, and I feel his hitched breath across my face. I have to look up to meet his gaze, and I’m reminded again of how small I am compared to him.
It’s much more noticeable now that he’s bulked up, and I’ve gotten thinner. With him this close, I’m flooded with his smell, and it’s just like I remember—spearmint, vanilla, and something that’s all Evan.
I bite my lip to stop the moan from escaping, as my brain is flooded with thoughts of how fucking amazing he smells…and looks.
Focus, Teigan, I mentally yell at myself.
“Would you mind putting this on for me, please?” I ask, holding up the silver pendant.
He gently takes it from me without a word, and I turn to face away from him. I reach back and gather my hair up, pulling it to the side, so he can see my neck clearly. He’s so close, I can feel his warmth against my back, and nibble harder on my lip as a distraction.
Soft fingers lightly trace along my neck, moving some stray pieces of hair out the way, and I have to ignore the shiver that shoots down my spine. He reaches over and loops the necklace so it sits on my collarbone. His fingers lightly graze the back of my neck again as he fastens the clasp.
Once the necklace is in place, he uses his fingers to lightly trace around it, making sure it’s sitting right. His warm fingers heat up my skin, leaving a blazing trail in their wake. My stomach flips like it’s full of butterflies, and my core heats in a way it hasn’t for a very long time.
For a fraction of a second, I feel shame. After everything I’ve been through, all the abuse I’ve endured, the thought of anything sexual at all should make me feel sick. I should want to shy away from it for a good long time… That’s what I told myself every time something awful happened to me.
I promised no man would ever use me for his own sick pleasure again. But the shame I feel is more because I don’t feel sick or guilty with Evan. I feel alive, and that scares the shit out of me.
Evan’s breath tickles my ear, and I hold my breath, waiting to see if he’s going to kiss the spot beneath my ear—like he used to do.
Before I know it, the warmth is gone. Evan takes a few steps away from me, and I spin quickly to see what the hell just happened. His face is crumpled, like he’s in pain, but he’s quick to let the mask of indifference descend.
“All done,” he mutters, at the same time I say, “Thank you.”
We both give each other a small smile, waiting for the other to say something. When Evan doesn’t, I know I’ll have to make the first move. “Maybe…if you’d like…we can have breakfast together in the morning? We can talk some more then,” I ask, hating how hopeful my voice sounds.
“Yeah, we can do that,” Evan replies, his voice sounding tight and strained.
Evan takes a step back. He’s outside of my bedroom now, and I take hold of the door, so I can close it behind him. Just as he’s about to turn away, my words rush out. “In case I didn’t say this earlier…thank you.”
I don’t need to elaborate… He knows what I’m thanking him for. Blush spreads across his cheeks, and he grimaces, clearly not comfortable with the thanks.
“It’s the least I could do. I will see you in the morning. Goodnight, Angel,” he says, before his eyes widen comically. “I mean, Teigan.”
He retreats before I have the chance to say anything more, and I close the door quickly. I try to ignore the way my heart is racing at the mention of my old nickname, and how easily it slipped out. My chest aches as I try not to think back to that easier time.
They say you never forget your first love, even if they hurt you, and I know that’s true. Evan Doughty is etched into my soul, and even though he’s left scars on my heart, a part of me will always belong to him.
Idon’t know what the hell I was expecting when I let Bree talk me into staying in a safe house with Teigan, but this was definitely not it. There was a time, a decade ago, when I wanted nothing more than to live with Teigan, to be with her all the time. But that was a long fucking time ago.
After the emotions of that first night, I had no idea what to expect. I saw the look on her face when I accidentally called her Angel. The truth is, it just slipped out. When I’m near her, it’s like all conscious thinking goes out the window, and I start behaving like a prepubescent teenager again.
There’s no denying that she grew up to be even more beautiful, which I didn’t think was fucking possible—but she did. Anyone with eyes can see it. But that doesn’t change the situation. I can admire her as a gorgeous woman without wanting anything to happen between us.
I let her in a long time ago. I gave her everything. I let her see the real me, and I would have given up my family for her. She’s the one who threw it all away. She hurt me in a way I never thought possible, and I haven’t been the same since. I don’t view women the same now. I’m happy to have a random fuck with a girl who means nothing to me—no names, no repeats, no expectations—but that’s all it will ever be.
What’s left of my shrivelled black heart is encased behind so many layers of bricks that nobody will ever get inside. The only problem is, when I put those walls up, I’m not sure if the piece of Tee’s heart that she gave me is still buried under there, too. If she’s already behind my walls, I need to find a way to get her the hell out of there, as there’s no way I’m going to let her burn me again.
After the over-familiarity of that first night, I’m not ashamed to admit that I’ve spent the last two weeks trying to avoid Teigan. We had a very awkward but quick breakfast the next morning, and I’ve seen her in passing in the kitchen a few times since. She always offers to make me a drink whenever she’s having one, or to cook me a meal when she makes her own. I’ve declined every time, coming up with new ridiculous excuses each time.
The real reason I keep saying no is because I can’t bring myself to spend time with her. I know it will be all too easy to fall into that same familiar pattern of talking like we used to. Combined with the knowledge that she’s even more fucking beautiful than before, it’s almost a certainty that I will start to like her again—which can’t ever happen.
I also have a somewhat selfish reason for avoiding her—I can’t hear about what she’s been through. The small parts I already know are enough to haunt my dreams, and if I were to learn any more, I feel sure I’ll lose the last couple of hours’ of sleep that I’m desperately clinging to.
