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There were no feelings. Just fun and excitement. The thrill of sneaking around, possibly getting caught, was an adrenaline rush.
Our interludes were infrequent. He was often on the road with my brother’s band. I was busy being a college student, doing the things college students did. Study sessions, deadlines… parties.
But over time, each occurrence lasted a little longer than the previous one. We talked more between sex and orgasms. We began texting back and forth when we were apart. There were still no strings, but it became more than casual sex. He became my best friend. The person I told everything to, and I believed I was that for him. I knew I was.
When I walked away before his birthday, I had no intention of returning to the toxicity. Then he made me a promise, and I clung to it. Believed it. But I never had time to see if he’d keep that promise. It all came tumbling down like a house of cards.
At first, I blamed myself. If I hadn’t broken up with him, he wouldn’t have called her. If I hadn’t let him believe I’d gone home with someone else, if, if…
A reasonable person would not get upset if their ex, no matter how recent or temporary, slept with someone else during their separation. It’s human nature to scratch itches and urges. A physical need that must be sated. And sometimes, it’s about getting lost in another person, desperate to forget the one you want. Throw in copious amounts of alcohol, and meaningless rebound sex is inevitable.
I am a reasonable person. Mostly. He could’ve slept with the whole goddamn bar that night, and I wouldn’t have cared.
But he didn’t sleep with a stranger. Or even someone he knew but had no history with.
He fucked his ex-wife.
The woman he lost his virginity to at fifteen. The one that made him a dad at sixteen.
The same woman who treated him like utter trash for years. She cheated on him multiple times when they were together. Once they were divorced, she deprived him of Casey as best he could. She ripped him apart every chance she got.
The woman he confessed to me years ago that he would always love.
And he didn’t have the balls to tell me what he did himself. Instead, he conveniently omitted that piece of information when he got on his knees and made promises I’ve since convinced myself he never intended to keep.
I still wonder why she looked at me when she said the words.
Shattered doesn’t begin to explain how I felt at that moment. The pain that wrapped itself around my heart, ripping the organ out and shredding it into a million pieces, I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy.
Until that moment, a man had never been worthy of my tears. Until him, no one had ever been worthy of my heart. I just didn’t know he wasn’t either.
Two days later, I was in California. Being in the same city as him was too painful. As cruel and childish as it sounds, seeing Casey every day was as well.
It was supposed to be a few days—weeks, at most. Weeks turned to months, and I decided I wasn’t going back. I’m still uncertain why I did or why I convinced myself we could be in the same city and never cross paths. I should’ve known I couldn’t return without seeing him. Then again, haven’t I put myself, intentionally or not, right in his path?
I allow the burning anguish behind my eyes to transform into muffled outrage echoing in the gilded box. Anger I can handle. It can be used as a weapon or as a defense. Pain… it’s crippling, debilitating. It sucks you into an abyss that takes everything from you, and I won’t allow him to have another piece of me.
“Fuck!” I yell as the doors slide open, missing that the car has stopped in my outburst. Maddox and Ryder stand with raised brows as heat rises to my cheeks.
“Something wrong?” Maddox asks as they step into the elevator, each taking a place on either side of me. My lips press into a thin line. He makes a noise, shoving his hands into the pockets of his dark denim. “Meeting go okay?”
I look at him from my periphery. His sapphire eyes face forward, devoid of emotion, as if I don’t know what he’s done.
“Fine,” I clip through gritted teeth, finding it more difficult to maintain the façade when I’m aware they are the meddlers responsible for the catastrophe waiting to happen.
“Ended rather quickly,” Ryder adds.
My attention snaps to him. Like his friend, his expression gives away nothing.
My eyes narrow, but I bite my tongue. I have to admit, their meddling makes me question why they offered to let me record. I asked them to listen to my songs over Christmas, looking for constructive criticism. They told me to sit tight; they had a plan. When they offered the deal, I was blown away. They liked my music, telling me the songs were good enough to release and any issues they would work on during production. Now, I wonder if they liked it or saw an opportunity.
“Does that mean you worked everything out?”
My fists clench at my sides, itching to swing. Irritation grows with every word out of their mouths. I was in that office with Liam, alone, for five minutes. What do they think got worked out in that amount of time? I stare at them through the mirrored surface of the elevator doors, catching when their ambivalence turns to smirks. Assholes! “What exactly do you think could get worked out in a few minutes?”
“I can think of a few things.” Maddox teases as he wags his brows, and his smirk stretches wide, showing off those stupidly perfect teeth and that famous smile.
I spin on my heels, my patience at its limit, and wag a finger between them. “You. Both of you. This is your fault.”
