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“I sent Trent to go and apologize,” Claire says.
Dad leans forward a little. “Are you okay, Ems?”
I’m
too shaken up to even respond to them. Instead, I sit in the booth and look down to find a small dish of slowly melting vanilla ice cream on the table in front of me. At this point, I can’t even guess if it was meant as a peace offering from Trent or another barb, but it makes my heart hurt either way.
Dammit. I will not cry again, I will not cry again, I will not cry again.
Out of sheer strength and will, I paint a smile on my face and look up at Dad. “Everything’s okay. He apologized.”
12
Trent
Liar. Liar. Liar.
I’m literally seething right now. And not only that, my chest is heaving because I’m totally out of breath. I’m angry as fuck at Emma for denying what she did and running away yet again, and I’m also pissed at myself.
How is it that I can still want her so badly after everything that she’s done?
And for her to play so innocent when I know she’s the one who tore my family apart makes it all the more infuriating. Why is she still lying about it? If she did it to hurt me, why hasn’t she stood up to claim responsibility? Why the fuck does part of me want to believe her lie?
When I look into her eyes, all I see is a fake innocence that makes me want to tear her apart looking for the truth underneath. And then this incredible attraction comes over me, like something bubbling up through the hatred. I go back and forth like a madman between hating her and desiring her.
As I stand in the dark hallway watching her run away, I shift uncomfortably. Thanks to our little encounter, I have a massive hard-on. Should I go jerk off in the bathroom?
Absolutely not. That would only be adding insult to injury.
Instead, I go into the men’s room to splash some cold water on my face and think of other things. I’m not going to go into that stall and rub one out like a teenager, and I’m also not going to walk back to that table with my hands in my pockets. I’m just going to have to let this one pass.
There’s a weird emptiness in my chest that I don’t know how to describe. Goddammit, I wanted her so badly just now. My lips came so close to hers, and I told her to tell me she wanted me, because I could feel viscerally that she did. Then, in pure Emma fashion, she ran away from it because she couldn’t handle the intensity. She couldn’t stand the lies, the deceit, and the deep fucking need. So she ran.
But she didn’t run far enough.
I need her out. I need her gone. I need her to stop fucking up my head with doubts and questions about what I’ve known for so long.
Leaning my hands on the countertop by the sink, I let my head drop. I’m grateful as fuck there are no other guys in here because I’m still rock hard. My thoughts turn to my mom and Paul, and that hard-on is gone within seconds. I want my mother to be happy. I seriously do. But how am I going to get through her dating the man she cheated on my dad with? The man who, along with his lying temptress of a daughter, destroyed my parents’ marriage?
It occurs to me that I could just start avoiding Emma. I could give up on the fight, leave her alone, and move on with my life. But the thought of that makes something in my stomach turn ice cold. I need more than that.
I need her to be sorry. Whether it’s actual remorse for what she did or just regret because the consequences that fall on her are so dire, I want her to be sorry she sent that anonymous note to my dad.
Checking my phone, I realize it’s already almost 9:30 p.m. We’ve been at Louie’s for a long time, and a lot of shit has gone down. My hard-on is totally gone at this point, so I wash my hands and exit the bathroom to head back down the long hall. It occurs to me that I’m gonna need my boys tonight because there’s a lot of shit to discuss, so I text Reese and West at the same time, telling them to meet me back at the house. Then I stop in the hallway for one last moment to compose myself, because I know Emma and her dad are still sitting at that table.
I come around the corner, and sure enough, there she is with an empty bowl in front of her. I guess she ate the ice cream, after all. It used to be her favorite thing in high school, and I hate that I fucking remember that, but I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forget it. The guys and I used to love taking her out for dessert. She got this look of pure bliss on her face when she ate something sweet, and it made my heart and my dick both ache.
My mom is drinking a coffee, and Paul casually has his arm draped over the back of the booth so that it’s practically around her. My jaw clenches. I guess this is the kind of shit I’m gonna have to get used to.
“Hey,” I say, sliding back into the booth at my mom’s side.
“Everything alright?” Mom asks, her tone cool. I know she’s pissed as fuck at me, and I get why.
“Yeah, fine.”
“I hear you guys settled everything,” Paul says, staring at me with narrowed eyes.
“Sure.” I nod once and glance across the table at Emma, who refuses to make eye contact with me. “All settled.”
