Page 108 of Worth the Risk

Track her down. Say you’re sorry. Beg if you have to.

Fuck. The past few days have been miserable without her constant presence in some way, shape, or form. I’ve felt it. Luke’s felt it.

It isn’t just the lack of sex I’m missing. If it were, I could fix that with a phone call.

It’s the companionship. It’s the ability to laugh over something stupid. It’s the wish to tell someone something after a chaotic day and have someone care. It’s the need to share and not feel so fucking alone.

But I don’t chase after her.

I walk into the house, see the bag of food on the counter and cringe, the sight of it reinforcing how much of a prick I am.

Fuck, yes I tested her.

Fuck, yes I waited to see if I’d get the whiny texts complaining about how she hasn’t been able to see me and how she wants me to just get a babysitter. I waited for her to send that so that I could then sit around and wait for her silence after I told her I couldn’t.

But I received none of the above.

Instead, I got text after text asking me how Luke was doing. Seeing if I needed anything. Asking if I wanted her to watch him for a bit so I could get a break.

It was a great fucking test.

Great way to make me look like more of a fucking asshole than I already am.

Great way to try to mess up her feelings because I can’t figure out my own.

Nah, I can figure them out all right.

They’re just ones I swore I’d never let myself feel again.

“You’re being a miserable fuck.”

“Grady Malone. That is no way to talk at the dinner table,” my mom says, shooting him a scowl that can make any one of us shrink.

“He kind of is, though,” Grant chimes in.

I glare at both of them and then tip my Coke back and make sure my middle finger is front and center, so they get the point.

“Is there trouble in Sidney-ville?” Grady asks as he scoots back to avoid the quick kick to his shin I just missed.

And despite my mom’s ears perking up like a damn jackrabbit at the sound of Sidney’s name, she says, “Leave him alone.”

“We fought.” It comes out of my mouth without thinking, but I’ve been sitting on it and stewing about it for the better part of a day, and the longer I keep silent, the more I feel like a jackass for the things I said to her.

“Best part about fighting is the make-up sex,” Grant says as he eyes Emerson. Her response is a swift swat to the back of the head before she presses a kiss there and takes off to make sure their girls haven’t gotten into too much trouble with Luke.

“What did you fight about?”

“Drop it, Grady,” I say.

“You’re the one who brought it up.” He shrugs and grins at me over his beer. “Did you finally tell her you want more than just slipping and sliding and she said screw you?”

We all burst out laughing at the look on our mom’s face, and she just shakes her head.

“Not quite.”

“Oh.” The chorus rings out around the table, and Dylan twists her lips as she stares at me.

“Let me guess, you told her there was nothing there when there is.”