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“Cassidy may have understood better than most, but that doesn’t change you,” Amy said as she brushed at the tears as they fell. “You’ve clung to this pedestal you put Cassidy on because she shared our trauma. But you haven’t realized that by saying you could’ve had a life with her because of that trauma and understanding, a part of you knew you wouldn’t have hurt Cassidy or your future family if it had gone that route. You won’t hurt anyone.”
Every part of me locked up tight as each of Amy’s soft words slammed into me with brutal force. My mind rebelled what she was saying even though, deep down, I knew she was right.
From how I’d been fascinated by just the idea of Cassidy to my subconscious knowledge that I never would’ve touched her that way.
“I know you won’t turn into him—part of you does too,” Amy went on. “But if you won’t let yourself believe it and have the life you deserve, end things with Maci. Because if she hasn’t already, she’ll realize you’re in love with her soon. You’re going to break her heart if you lead her on when you have no intention of giving her what she’ll inevitably want.”
I’d been nodding subtly as she spoke, but by the time my lips parted, my head was shaking. “I can’t,” I admitted with a defeated huff. “It’s like I’m trying to make up for all the time I’ve already lost with her, and I can’t get enough of her. I hate when I have to leave her for any reason. I hate that she’s mad at me. And it’s fucking killing me because, as anxious as I am to see her and make things right, I know I still won’t tell her about our life or my fears.”
“You have to.”
“Amy—”
“Tell her or stop wasting her time,” she said firmly. “Maci isn’t just some girl you see once or twice and forget about completely. She deserves to know who she’s falling in love with.”
The urge to deny what she assumed built, but I forced it away. And I hated that, beneath all those fears, my pulse raced at the idea that Amy might be right.
But it didn’t matter because I didn’t know how to burden Maci with the shit I’d lived through. Didn’t know how to scare her with the images I was plagued with while I slept.
More than that, I was afraid of how she would look at me once she knew.
* * *
MACI
Facing Amber, I blew out a deep breath and asked, “I look hot, right?”
“For the tenth time, yes,” she said, exaggerating the last word before she waved me off. “I still don’t know why you’re trying to make him drool over you when you left his bed just this morning, but whatever.”
Amber wouldn’t understand my argument with Connor this morning. She would think it was stupid—most likely on my part. Then again, she liked to keep her relationships extremely open and free from ‘trivial things, like emotions.’
Twisting around to face the bar my brothers were at with Connor, I squared my shoulders and said, “Just want to make sure I drive him crazy tonight.”
A snort left her. “He’ll break and come for you before we leave. Bet.”
I smiled to myself as I nervously ran my hands over the scrap of a shirt I was wearing.
The ridiculously high heels I was precariously balancing on were Amber’s. The dark skinny jeans were mine. But the shirt? We’d gone hunting for it today. It’d cost a stupid amount of money, considering it just barely covered my boobs and stomach and left my back bare, but I hoped it’d be worth it.
As soon as we walked in, I spotted them sitting at a table with a pitcher of beer between them. And like he could sense I was there, he glanced our way, his eyes widening when he saw me there before they slowly raked over my body.
By the time his gaze drifted back to mine, those blue eyes were narrowed with heated promises and carnal need.
Good.
Walking past their table, toward the bar, I stilled when Dakota called my name and whispered, “Amber, please remember to stay away from my brothers.”
“But they’re so—”
“You’re dating Aaron,” I hissed before turning toward their table and asking, “Can I help you?”
“The fuck are you wearing?” Dakota asked as I punched Dylan’s arm for checking out Amber.
“Clothes.”
“Not enough,” he scoffed and grabbed his jacket off the back of his chair.
“I’m not wearing your jacket if that’s what you’re about to try to have me do,” I said and bit out a curse when Dylan pinched my arm.
