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“This problem you say you don’t have with Leland, is it going to affect you here?”
More than it already is?
But I can hear it in her words, her concern over the wedding. Because they’re going to do that, fast. And it’s not me ruining it. That’s not Dakota. That’s a million miles from her. No, she’s concerned that I’ll be uncomfortable and . . .
Shit.
I look down at my hands.
“I do have a problem with him, but it’s not going to affect anything. I promise.”
“I care about you, Sarah.”
“Hell, Dakota, remember when we met? You’re the only person I told about my ex. And we got drunk and put that away, never to talk about him again.”
“You didn’t want to.” Dakota shrugs.
“I still don’t. But that weekend I said I went away?” I look at her. “I didn’t.”
She doesn’t say a word, just waits.
“I slept with him.”
Her eyes almost bug out and she sucks in a harsh breath in shock. “Your ex?”
“Leland.”
“Oh my fucking God.”
“Not my finest moment.”
“I knew there was something between you two. The air practically crackles with electricity when you two are in the same room. So, what’s the problem? That was four years ago. You’re different people, but not that different—”
“I was twenty-three, I had that short black hair and . . . I met him at a bar. We went back to his room, and it was more sex than talking, but it was amazing.”
“Do it again.”
“No.” The quietness makes her go still. “Never. No matter how hot he is, I’m not ever going there again.”
“But—”
“You know what he’s like, I know what he’s like.”
She comes up and puts her hand on mine. “People aren’t always what they seem, and people change.”
“He’s not worth any heartache he might bring. I’ve kept away from relationships for a reason, I don’t want to be tangled in a man. I want to focus, and my ex . . .”
“I know,” she says gently. “But he’s not your ex, Sarah.”
“And he’s not worth it.” I turn and meet her gaze and tell her my shameful secret. “Leland Conley uses women. And in my own naivety, I thought he was different. I wasn’t expecting a ring, but I wasn’t expecting him to leave twenty bucks for me on his bedside table. Worse?”
“There’s worse than that? Right now, we can flail him alive, feed him toes up to the crows.”
I laugh because I’m not going to cry. Even though there’s pressure at my eyes and my throat is swollen. Thick. Hot. “Yes, worse. He doesn’t even remember me.”
And now my shame is complete.
Because after all that tonight, not even one little glimmer.
