Page 11 of The Triangle

“I’m glad you’re back,” he finally says. “I don’t care what you did or how you got here, I’m just glad you’re back.”

“Me too,” I say. And I mean it. I don’t know who I really am. I don’t know who Alec is. I don’t know why I love this man holding me right now.

I just know I do.

CHAPTER FIVE - DANNY

We almost did it once. Almost stepped over that imaginary line and changed our relationship from friends to lovers. But I stopped it.

Her fingers were already dealing with the button on my jeans. Our mouths heading in the direction of a desperate kiss. My hands wanted to touch her everywhere all at once. It felt so inevitable in that moment and then like a dumbass I let myself imagine what things would be like tomorrow. Not tomorrow tomorrow. It might take weeks or months. Hell, years. People go years blinded by that one mistake they made, refusing to see it for what it was.

But even though I want one—desperately—there’s no way Christine and I could have a relationship. Not after all we’ve done together. Not after all we’ve been through. There’s too much sadness there. So much anger. And blame.

Blame for all the things that went wrong. For all the reasons why we’re here right now. Dealing with whatever the fuck she’s into. Sitting in this stupid one-bedroom apartment above a dingy garage that has become my whole life.

She got down on her knees and I don’t know why, but that scared me. And then her fingertips were about to wrap around my cock and pull it out. Her lips puckered up against my swollen head were just moments away.

But I got a glimpse of the future and it was not pretty.

She wasn’t even eighteen. After all that time together, after all those jobs, after all that killing… she wasn’t even old enough to vote yet.

She would’ve blamed me when it all went to shit. And then I’d have lost her. For good.

She blamed me anyway. She left me anyway. And I lost her anyway.

What was my point again?

“You have a nice security system.”

“What?” I turn my head slowly to look at her. God. I shouldn’t even fucking look at her because those hazy green-brown eyes are staring back at me. I could get lost in them. So easily.

“I mean,” she stammers. “You seem to take your security seriously. Two alarms. And it’s a good company. I don’t know how I know that, but… forget it.”

I let out a breath and a smile comes with it. “You know how you know that?”

“How?” she asks, leaning into me a little.

“Because that’s the only company we never got past.”

She squints those beautiful eyes. Searching for the memories, maybe.

“That’s why I use them. They’re the best and we never got past them.”

“Oh,” she whispers. “I only meant… I just meant I feel kinda… safe with you. That’s all.”

And that sets off a cyclone of what-ifs and coulda-shoulda-wouldas in my head. How I could’ve done things different. How I should’ve been there for her, even after she walked away. How I would’ve been so much better off if she was in my life these past few years.

But that’s the thing, right? What’s good for me was never good for her.

“I used you,” I say. “For a very long time. And one day you just said, ‘Fuck you, Fortnight.’ And we were done.”

She takes a deep breath and holds it. I count to five in my head and she lets it out.

I know her so well. Even when she has no idea who she is or why she does things. I know her.

“Maybe,” she says, turning her back to me. Turning her body. Stretching out on the couch. Reaching for a pillow and laying her head on it as she tucks her hands underneath. Her legs find their comfort zone across the top of my lap.

Like old times.