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I catch the scent of him when we walk in, and I look around when the light flips on. The alcohol has taken its toll on me, and I keep quiet while moving to the couch from my past. Nothing in this room has changed.
Gage moves in front of me when I collapse onto the couch and holds out his hand. “Your legs not functional enough to walk to the bed?”
I swat it away. “Under no circumstances am I sleeping in that bed.” It’s where I lost my virginity. “I’ll sleep here.”
He drops his hand and takes a step back. “The couch it is.”
A blanket and pillow are tossed to me, and I close my eyes the moment my head hits the pillow. I fake sleep while hearing him move around the loft, and my breathing shudders when I sense his presence next to me.
I tense when he runs a hand over my cheek.
“Why did you hurt me?” he whispers. “Why’d you leave?”
I stay silent and hope he doesn’t notice the goose bumps crawling over my skin, and a tear slips down my cheek when he steps away. The light shuts off, and I drift to sleep.
Six
Gage
If she wakes up,she’ll kick my ass.
A dim light comes through the blinds. I lean back in the tattered chair that was once my mother’s favorite and feel shame as I watch the woman I love and hate sleep.
She’s still gorgeous, still my favorite view. Lauren is the only woman I’ve looked at and not seen through. I’ve seen her at her worst—drunk, ridiculous, breaking my heart, in tears—and there hasn’t been one instance when I didn’t think she was breathtakingly beautiful. She consumed me before I hit puberty. Breakup or not, you don’t heal from a love that pure, that real, that deep.
The attitude, the smart-ass woman I fell in love with, still shines brightly. She’s the same. I’m not. If she knew the torture I’d been through, she’d never look at me the same.
Years ago, I loved the fact that I was the only man to ever touch and kiss her. Sliding inside her was always a high. I no longer have that privilege. And, as much as I want to convince myself she has never been with another man, I know there’s no way that could be true. She wanted—needed—sex regularly when we were together. My nails sink into the arms of the chair at the thought of it.
My thoughts are broken when she squirms, kicking off the blanket, and I gulp when her smooth, bare legs go on display as her dress piles up around her waist. Her heels are still on, her hair messier than what it was, and the sight of her black lace panties causes my dick to stir.
I lick my lips.Damn, I should’ve given her something to change into.
Not that she would’ve accepted it.
When I saw her walk across the restaurant in that black number, there was no way I could stay away. The dress was short and showed off her toned legs and plump, perfect ass. I finished my drink before standing and followed her into the hallway, not sure what my plan was when I reached my destination. Pushing her against the wall definitely wasn’t it. Neither was my cock growing hard as a rock or bringing her home with me.
She receives one last glance, and I pray it’s not the last one I’ll have in a while as I pull myself up from the chair. The sky is dark, the full moon shining bright, when I walk to the main house, kicking my feet against the gravel drive.
My dad is in the living room, leaning back comfortably in his recliner, and he looks away from the TV at the sound of the door shutting. “I thought you were going out.”
“I did. And, now, I’m home.”
He grabs the remote and flips off the TV. “There a reason you’re not sleeping in the loft?”
“Thought I’d spend some time here tonight. My childhood bedroom, complete with a Ninja Turtles comforter, is calling my name.”
He nods in understanding and what looks like devastation. “She’s on your mind, isn’t she?” He sighs with sadness in his eyes when he realizes I’m not entertaining the conversation. “You ever think she regrets what she did?”
I gently knock my knuckles against the wall. “Doesn’t matter anymore. She did what she did, and my life has been hell since. Sure, she might be sorry, but I can’t give her the same man I was in high school.”
* * *
“Care to tellme what happened with you and your arsonist sweetie?” Kyle asks when I walk into the station. “No police report was filed on your behalf.”
After arresting and dropping off Lauren at her parents’ the other day, I went back and picked up Kyle. He briefly took some bullshit report from the landlord, fully aware I wasn’t going to stick Lauren in jail, and pressed me for details about where my prisoner was. He didn’t get shit.
I called in the next day, given I had a mild concussion from my father’s roof incident, and yesterday was my night off. He’s had a few days to come up with his interrogation, so it’s going to be a long shift.
