They always need him.
And he always needs them.
It’s an endless cycle that defines his life. Why should I expect that to change just because he married me to keep me safe?
I maintain a cool expression. I’m not giving him a show or begging him to stick around. I refuse to beg a man. I’m either worth it to them or not, and clearly, Hayes has more important things to take care of tonight.
Hayes frowns, and for a moment, I feel guilty because it's not his fault that I’ve made my problems his, but I quickly shove that away. Charlie is as much his responsibility as mine. If we have to play this game for her, then so be it.
I turn to walk away, but Hayes catches my elbow.
“I mean it, Emery. I’ll be back tonight. I know it’s shit timing, but—”
“He's the president.”
Hayes nods, scratching the back of his neck. “Give Charlie a kiss for me."
“I will.” My irritation doesn’t mean I won’t make sure Charlie gets the best of both of us.
By the time I make it inside, Tempe is half asleep on the couch, and Charlie is already in bed. I say goodbye to Tempe, and a prospect meets her outside to walkher home. Clearly, the club president doesn’t pull any punches when it comes to his old lady if he doesn’t let her walk home alone after dark, even in the neighborhood. Their house is barely a few feet away.
Charlie doesn’t stir when I give her two kisses. One for me and one for her father.
With the windows open, a soft breeze filters through the house. The scent of lemons fills every inhale. I’ve slowly cleaned the musky smell out of the furniture. The stale, dusty air has been replaced by the fresh scent of potpourri. All around are dots of color and life.
By the time I finish brushing my teeth, I practically fall into bed. Between lack of sleep and the surprise wedding, I’m exhausted. I drift off to sleep quickly but toss and turn. Dreams melt into nightmares, and every little sound wakes me, stirring hope that it’s Hayes coming home.
After waking up for the tenth time, I tap my phone and see it’s already almost three in the morning, and he hasn’t come back.
I should have expected it, but some part of me hoped my husband would actually be here on our wedding night. To the point where I left the bedroom door open in hopes he might try to sneak in.
Maybe I really am the only one who wants this.
Why would he?
He has a clubhouse full of beautiful women willing to take care of his needs. Why bother with the girl who still has no idea what she’s doing in bed? I should have told him that I refuse to marry someone who isn’t going to befaithful. I’ve gotten so used to not questioning my uncle I’ve forgotten that I have a spine.
No more.
Tomorrow, I’ll tell Hayes what I’m thinking.
I kick off the sheets, and the breeze tickles my skin. Outside, a storm is brewing. The air is changing.
I toss and turn, burying my nose in the pillow and grumbling. It smells like Hayes even though he doesn’t share this bed with me. He lingers everywhere. On my clothes—in this house. I’m irritated with him, and I crave him, and it’s so incredibly frustrating.
He’s the addiction I can’t kick.
A shock to my system.
I close my eyes and let myself cling to that for a second. I picture Hayes’s face like I have so many times over the past ten months. He might resent me, but I crave him. It’s undeniable. My core burns as my hand drifts lower, pausing at the hem of my T-shirt.
Given the heat, I skipped wearing shorts. No one is home but me and Charlie, so it doesn’t matter. But still, in the darkness, it feels like I’m crossing a line. Touching myself to thoughts of Hayes was different when he was a memory I’d cling to in the middle of the night. Now he’s my husband, and I still can’t figure out if he wants me.
This is wrong.
So why does he always feel so right?
Sagebrush rustles outside. The gentle sounds of the desert are calming. I brush my fingertips over my thighs, and my skin prickles.
