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“You would,” I grit out, finally bringing my gaze up to meet his. “You shouldn’t have come here, Jace. You should’ve never come back.”
He’s still standing there as though I’ve slapped him when I unlock the door and slip silently from the room.
Emily is blowing up my phone. She has been for the past two hours. I haven't been able to bring myself to answer her calls or texts. She's already asked about Jace in three of her five texts, and I know that the moment she hears even the slightest waver in my voice, she'll know damn well something happened between us. I'm just not mentally prepared to admit the truth yet.
Not to her, and not to myself.
I just had sex with my ex-boyfriend in the bathroom of my workplace. Mind-blowing, intense sex. It doesn’t seem real.
And it sure as hell isn’t right. The biggest problem is that it’s not even the amazing sex that’s bothering me now.
Fuck, Izzy, I love you. The words had come from his lips with so much conviction, like he had the fucking right to speak them. I can still hear his voice as it caresses my ears, just as I can still feel the ghost of his touch on my skin.
Showering, standing under the hottest water I could handle and scrubbing my body until it stung, hadn’t helped.
“Damn you,” I mutter to no one. The house I rent from old Addie Phillips is empty except for me and Lucy, my black cat. Lucy glances at me with narrowed eyes from across the room, where she’s perched on the back of the couch, basking in the sunlight streaming through the window, glaring at me like I’ve just interrupted her by speaking out loud.
“Sorry,” I say to the cat. I turn back toward the kitchen, intent on brewing a pot of coffee. One quick glance at the clock reminds me that it’s almost four o’clock.
To hell with this.
I pull the fridge open and grab a beer instead. “It’s fucking five o’clock somewhere,” I mumble as I twist the top off, casting a quick glance back toward Lucy. Sure enough, she’s glaring at me.
“Oh, stop it. I own you, you don’t own me,” I remind her. We both know how untrue that statement is.
My phone suddenly lights up on the counter, and I roll my eyes as I take a long pull from the bottle. I know it’s Emily again before I even see her name on the display. “You’re persistent, if nothing else,” I greet her.
“You can’t hide from me,” she replies. “If it went to voicemail, I was coming over there. I have a key, remember?”
“Remind me to take that away from you.”
“Remind me to hide the fucking thing before you get the chance,” she chuckles. “Now, why are you avoiding me?”
“I’m not. I’m just tired.”
“Bullshit,” she replies simply. “What happened? You two get into a scrap? You know if you don’t tell me, all I have to do is go into Edna’s and someone will tell me what went on. There’s always an audience here in Brooksville.”
Oh God, I hope not. “Did you get your car back?” I ask.
“Yes, and I’ll drive it over there in two seconds if you don’t spill whatever it is you’re trying to avoid saying. Christ, it’s not like you did him on the countertop or something.”
Fuck. “Close enough,” I admit with a defeated sigh.
“Pardon?” That’s got her interest piqued.
“I had sex with him, Em—”
“Jesus! Where?”
“Ladies’ bathroom?” I reply weakly, like I’m not sure it really happened. But, it did. It really happened.
There’s a pause of silence on the other end. “Holy shit,” she says finally. “You and Jace...in the public
bathroom at Edna’s? Holy fucking shit, Izzy. That’s bold, even for you.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, willing the alcohol to flood my veins faster. “I really don’t want to talk—”
“I thought you hated him?” Emily blurts out.
