“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you when it happened. I wanted to, but we promised not to tell anyone.”
“I get it.” She smiles, leaning closer. “Sooo, how was it?”
“It was good.” I groan, covering my face as I flop backward onto the bed. “It was really,reallygood.”
“If I was having really good sex, I would not be sulking around like you’ve been.”
“We agreed we would just be a summer fling. Then things got complicated and we got in a fight—I ended it almost a month ago…and regretted it…and then Ireallyfucked it up and ruined everything.”
“Because you ended it early?”
“Confession time, part two.” I hesitate. “I got really drunk at Lucky’s last weekend and hooked up with Emmett.”
I brace for her reaction but she’s eerily still, just staring down at the bed.
“We only made out, nothing more. So maybe that’s not hooking up? I don’t know, but we both agreed it was a mistake and willneverhappen again.” I grab her shoulders through the quilt. “I don’t love him like that. We were drunk and trying not to feel. I don’t have a brother, but it felt like kissing my brother.”
Lydia gags. “Fucking gross.”
“Exactly.” I grin weakly. “I promise, the only Morrow boy I want to kiss doesnotwant to kiss me back.”
Her voice softens. “Why do you think it’s ruined?”
I blow out a breath, pulling my knees to my chest. “Because the morning after, Wesley saw me sneaking back to my room wearing only Emmett’s shirt.”
“Oh.”
“Yep. It did not look good, and I don’t blame him for assuming it was more than it was. But he didn’t let me explain…and that was it. The end.”
“I’m sorry, Sades,” Lydia murmurs, holding her arms open.
I collapse into her embrace and she wraps her arms around me tightly. Iris wiggles into the center, attacking both of us with wet puppy kisses.
Yeah…I’m sorry, too.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
WESLEY
Outlawshiftsbeneathme,restless and moody as hell, like always.
We’re both sweating after spending hours in the evening sun. He’s over my shit and I probably should’ve called it a night an hour ago, but I need the distraction. I need the repetition. The routine. The illusion of control. Anything to keep my mind from circling back to her. Tothem.
Every time I close my eyes, I see it—Sadie tangled up with Emmett—and I wonder if his hands traced the same paths mine did, if every brush of his hand over her skin erases mine.
Did she arch for him like she did for me?
Did he find that spot at the base of her throat that made her breath hitch, where I used to press my mouth just to hear her fall apart?
Did she whisper his name in the dark like she used to say mine?
The thoughts make my stomach curdle, but I can’t stop picking at it, can’t stop feeding the jealousy until it consumes me from the inside out.
Replaying her confession is the worst part of it all. How she admitted she was thinking of me while she was with my fucking brother. Maybe the honesty was supposed to comfort me. Proof that she hadn’t completely erased me from her heart—but it only adds another layer of torment.
Because if I was in her head then, I’ll never escape it now. I’ll never stop wondering why she held onto me while she was under him.
She’s woven beneath my skin, in my veins, stitched into every fucking beat of my heart. It doesn’t even feel like it’s mine anymore—it only beats for her.
