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It had been stupid of me to hope, stupid of me to think this time would be any different to the first. “You don’t need to apologize, Chase.” I pulled open the door, no longer looking at her. I couldn’t—not as the hurt, shame, and embarrassment all collided in my gut.
“I’ll speak to you tomorrow?” she said, edging out the door.
“Yep.”
“Keep me updated on Nash.”
“Yep.”
“Okay, night, Mack.”
“Night.” The door closed and I stood there staring at it, eyes stinging.
Part of me hoped she’d change her mind, but I knew her well enough to know it was wishful—delusional—thinking. I stalked back to the kitchen and picked up my cell.
Me:Text me when you get home.
I stared at the screen for a full five minutes until her reply arrived.
Chase: home.
The three dots danced and disappeared, danced and disappeared. I could see her, leaning against her front door, lip trapped between her teeth as she tried to find the right words. But there weren’t any. I shut off my cell and went to the refrigerator, yanking out one of my Thanksgiving tester pies. I didn’t care that it was almost three in the morning, I didn't care that this was probably going to make me feel sick. I retrieved a spoon and dug the chocolate espresso filling right out of the center before shoving it into my mouth.
How long didit take for muscles to go into atrophy? Logically, I knew it was more than a couple of hours and yet there was no denying the sluggishness in my quads and calves the longer I sat here. Nash and I had been in the same positions for what could have been hours or days. Side by side on the couch, him in sweats, me in basketball shorts, staring with unseeing eyes at the television. Lost in the mess of our heads. I hadn’t even bothered to shower this morning, something I was paying for as my own stench mingled with that of fried chicken and whiskey. It wasn’t a great combination. Not that I cared right at the moment, not that I cared about much of anything right at the moment, aside from—
“I kissed Chase.” The words leapt off my tongue like a base jumper from Angel Falls, running on pure adrenaline. Despite not being able to get the memory of that moment out of my head, I hadn’t intended on saying it like that. Or at all.
I kissed Chase. And I was changed. It had shifted my gravitational pull. It had rearranged my fucking DNA. How could I not have seen what had been right in front of me all this fucking time? It was Chase, it had literally always been Chase. Maybe I had known it, deep down, and I was too much of a chicken shit to actually do anything about it.
I’d barely slept, unable to stop myself thinking of the feel of her lips on mine, the small, breathy sounds she made, the taste of her tongue. It drove me fucking crazy. I’d seen the sun start to slant through the windows before I managed to quiet my mind long enough to get to sleep.
Nash’s head turned, slow, exorcist style. He looked like shit, pale and drawn, though I probably didn’t look much better. He scratched his cheek. “Youwhat?”
“I kissed Chase. Maybe she kissed me. We kissed.” And I sounded like an idiot.
“When?” He croaked.
“Last night.” Right about the time your world was imploding. I didn’t add that.
“Wow.”
“Yeah.”
“So, what now?”
She wanted to pretend it never happened, of course she did, but I was pretty sure that was going to kill me—eat me alive from the inside out. “No fucking idea. You got any suggestions?”
He laughed then, long and hysterical to the point of wiping tears from the corners of his eyes. At my obvious confusion, he said, “I’m probably not the best person to ask, what with being in love with one woman and married to another.”
I winced. I’d had a feeling things with Jemma were more serious than they looked, but he was in love with her? He hadn’t said too much since waking up this morning. He had coffee, took a shower (unlike me), then returned to his place on my couch. Now here I was talking about kissing our best friend. But I needed to say it. I needed to talk about it with someone. And it was clear I wasn’t going to be able to talk about it with her.
I don’t want to be another woman you throw away.
Did she really think I’d treat her that way? Did she really think I treated any of the women I slept with that way? And her, her of all women? Just the thought soured the contents of my stomach. Did she know me at all? Worse, did she know me better than I did myself? I needed to get the fuck out of my own head.
“I’m really sorry, man, I didn’t know you loved her. You wanna talk about it?” I asked.
“Nothing much to say. I don’t know if I realized I loved her until it was too late.” He blew out a breath. “Despite everything, I don’t know if I’d actually change any of it.”
