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I saw his mouth parting, and I knew he was about to speak—and that sent pure panic through me. Because what if his words did make me forget? What if he did change my mind? What if I were lying to myself saying I would never love him again?
Before a word came off his lips, I took advantage of the fact he wasn’t standing in front of the door, and I moved around him so quickly, it stunned him. I pushed open that steel door so fast that my head was spinning from my sudden movements.
I made a beeline for the house, basically running up the path. Why was I acting like this? Why was I panicking? Why was I nearly running in the opposite direction? Because I felt it. I fucking felt it again, even after everything he had put me through, after all the chaos that was him and me. I was standing there, looking into his smouldering ash-grey eyes just before he was about to speak, and my heart pulsed an emotion I didn’t want to feel ever again—especially not for him.
So as I pushed open my family’s front door, tears filling my eyes again, I had to face the fact. I still loved Creed Winston. What the hell was wrong with me? My heart was blinded to all the pain he had made me feel. I thought I had stopped loving him. Now I had to face it. I still loved Creed, even after the heartbreak, the endless nights crying, the hollowness that he cast over me, which suffocated me for months. It was undeniable. My love for Creed had caused insanity within me—because a sane woman wouldn’t feel what I felt for him.
So the fact was, I was insanely in love with Creed Winston. And if him breaking me didn’t stop me from loving him, then nothing would. He was toxic, and I was addicted, and that hit me as I slid down our front door, my head falling to my knees. What the fuck was wrong with me?
15
Creed
I was drinking at the bar, and it was barely fucking two in the afternoon. But I didn’t give a flying fuck. I couldn’t take it any more. I didn’t even last a few minutes handling the emotions. Instead, I walked from the garage to the bar and grabbed a bottle—not a glass—intending to drown her out.
“You all right, mate?” Kobra questioned, pulling up a stool next to me.
My eyes were locked on the burning cigarette between my fingers.
“Just fuck off, Kobra,” I said. I wasn’t in a mood to be nice. I needed to drown out these feelings. I lived a life at one speed, fast—accelerating through most of it.
“Noticed my sister disappeared.” He didn’t fuck off as I had wanted.
Putting the cigarette to my mouth, I took a drag and didn’t say anything.
“So you gonna tell me what happened, or you going to drown yer sorrows with a bottle like a baby?”
My eyes flash to him, glaring. “Fuck off, Kobra.” If he were smart, he’d listen.
He cracked a smirk. “Did my sister have her wicked way with ya?” He had a cockiness to his tone.
I scoffed. “She hates me. She even said I needed to pray to save my soul. Listed my every fuck-up, and you know what?” I glanced back at him. “She’s right. I am toxic.”
I don’t know why, but my words caused his expression to drop off his face. He stared at me as if I had just killed a woman or something.
“Wait, she didn’t fuck you?”
“No, Kobra! She doesn’t want anything to do with me. She didn’t even really let me have it. She didn’t yell at me as if she loved me. No, she made it clear that I was some dead thing to her, that she wanted nothing to do with ever.” I scoffed. “Fuck, if you asked her, she would say the devil wouldn’t even want me.”
He cursed. “Great. My sisters are fucking addicted to no good men.”
“You not hearing me? She hates me.” I turned to look at him fully. “She doesn’t even feel hate for me, Kobra. She made it clear.”
Kobra pulled out his cigarettes, tapping them on the bar, looking like he was having a meltdown.
“She’s scared.” He said two words that confused me. “I know ’cos I’ve felt it. See, us Kincaids, we are fucking backwards. When we feel love, we panic. I think we get it from the old man.” He pulled out a cigarette. “Do you know what scared her?” He glanced at me.
I just stared at him, completely lost.
“She thought that when she confronted you, and you argued, that it would end the feeling inside. You know, confirm to her that she was right, she doesn’t love ya.” He lit up a cigarette. “Instead, she felt something, and it scared her.”
“How the fuck would you know. You weren’t there, and you aren’t her.”
Kobra remained quiet. He cursed under his breath as if he was having this debate with himself. He glanced at me. “I’ve always had a problem with doing the right thing. Part of me always leans for the wrong decision. So…I’m gonna say this and then I ain’t ever mentioning it again.”
I continued to stare at him. Half wondering if I’d had too much to drink and that was why I thought I saw Kobra looking like he was in pain.
“You need to decide if you love her, Creed.” His eyes flashed off the pack of smokes to me. “I’m not saying this ’cos I like you. I’m not saying this ’cos I want her with you. I’m saying this ’cos I love my sister, and I’ll always put her happiness before my own.” He inhaled sharply and then shook his head. “And she fucking loves you so much it scares her. So if you want her, you need to patch back, or you need to get the fuck out of town and let her try to find something or someone else without being suffocated by feelings for you, who ain’t gonna love her back.” He pushed the bar stool back. “And for the record. When you leave and let her go, that feeling you’ll feel when you ride in the opposite direction of her, it won’t ever leave ya, and the what-ifs, they don’t ever go away. Take it from me, being a fucking coward weighs heavy on a soul at midnight.”
