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But from behind me, a sleep-clogged voice asked, “Leaving so soon?”
I gasped and whirled around, slapping my hand over my heart. “Oh, shit. You’re awake.”
“Yeah,” he said. His voice still raspy, he sat up and ran his hands through his hair to cup the sides of his head. The sheets fell to his waist, revealing a warm, toned chest that made my mouth water.
I wanted to return to him so bad, crawl back under the covers and cuddle into his heat, stay for the rest of my life. But...yeah.
Reality was such a bitch.
And in reality, he winced, reminding me he must be suffering from a hangover and was truly sober for the first time in hours. Sober and cognizant. Which was why I was sneaking out and should stay away from his bed and delectable body...before he kicked me out and yelled at me for being a tramp who couldn’t keep her hands off him when he was vulnerable and out of his own mind.
I winced, feeling his pain. “Sorry, I wanted to be out of here before you woke.” Shifting my weight from one bare foot the other, I bit my lip. “In case, you know, you regretted last night and didn’t want to see me.”
He stopped clutching his head and dropped his hands to his lap so he could look at me. When he said nothing, I shifted again, growing more uncomfortable than ever.
Looking up at the ceiling, I cleared my throat and asked, “So, do you? Regret it?”
He didn’t answer immediately, and I couldn’t handle the suspense so I shifted my gaze back to him. He wasn’t reassuring me, telling me he regretted nothing, so that had to mean he did. He must wish last night between us had never happened.
The tears and devastation moved in. I hoped I could keep them at bay long enough to leave before he saw any, but I also wanted to stick around another second in case, by some miracle, he decided to...I don’t know...forgive me, or something.
But then he went and admitted, “I’m not sure.”
I blinked, wondering at first if I’d heard him right. Then I shook my head.
Had he just said I’m not sure?
What the hell? I scowled, suddenly no longer crushed, but just plain pissed. But he wasn’t sure? Surely, he knew whether he regretted having sex with me or not. Hell, the only reason a nice guy like him wouldn’t be reassuring me by now had to be because he did regret it.
So, why didn’t he just grow a pair and tell me that already?
“You know,” I muttered, glaring hard, the pain and anger bringing out my sassy. “I realize I fucked up. Bad. I lied to you for over a month. I betrayed your trust. Hurt your feelings. And tricked you in the most horrendous way imaginable. And I am sorry for that. I regret it like hell. That last thing I ever wanted to do was hurt you. If I could take that back, I would, but...” I shook my head. “I don’t know if I’d do everything again differently a second time through. Because if I did, I would never have gotten to know you as well as I did. I never would’ve learned what an...amazing person you are. I...fuck, I wouldn’t have fallen for you as hard as I have. And I can’t regret that part. But I also can’t let you use my feelings and guilty conscience against me again. The next time you’re horny and want sex from me, it has to mean something. Got it?”
He drew in a tormented breath and ran his hand over his face as he averted his gaze. “Yeah,” he mumbled. “I got it.”
“I’m going to go,” I said as I whirled around, but a strange empty spot above the stairwell opening caught my attention.
Frowning, I whirled back. “Where the hell is Mozart?”
His face shot up, and his expression crumbled. “He’s gone.”
Gasping, I staggered back a step. Clutching at my chest, I blinked at him, trying to make sense of his words. “What do you mean gone?” The little critter had been so full of life, and Asher had taken good care of him. He couldn’t have just...died. Could he?
“I mean he’s fucking gone,” he snapped, scowling at me for pressing the subject. “I came home, his cage was open, and he was nowhere in the apartment.”
“But...” My brow wrinkled as I shook my head. That made no sense. “He’s a squirrel. There was no other way for him to get out of this apartment except through that doorway up there, and he couldn’t have opened that himself.”
“Well, then he must’ve gotten free when I was coming in or going out. I don’t fucking know.”
I sent him an I’m-not-buying-it glance. “And you don’t think you would’ve noticed him darting out between your legs when you opened the door?”
“I told you, I don’t know. I just know I came home, and he was gone.”
Chewing on my lip, I turned back to study the bare stretch of wall where Mozart’s cage had once hung. “I think someone else let him out.”
Asher let out a tired sigh. “Impossible. No one else has been here...except you.”
I turned back slowly. “It wasn’t me.”
