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“We weren’t. That’s the fucking point.”
A point I don’t get. Because I’m stupid. “So why are you so upset?”
“Don’t you fucking get it? It’s my fault. If I hadn’t cut all ties...She died alone, man. I can’t imagine…” He rubs at his eyes. “Can’t imagine it, dying alone. Pneumonia. All the smoking, I guess. Nobody to call a doctor. Nobody by her side. She was still my mom. I thought...Thought we’d have time to somehow work things over, meet again.”
And he missed the chance. Now she’s dead.
Talk about regrets and what ifs. Because deep inside he still loved her, and he never told her, and now it’s too late.
Fucking hell.
“Gotta go.” I slide off my stool, throw some bucks on the bar. “Sorry, Zeke. Catch you some other time.”
I leave him to stare after me, and I feel kinda bad because I dragged him there and forced the sordid story out of him, but there’s someone I need to check on.
Need to make sure she’s okay, and tell her what I want, what I feel, even if it’s the biggest mistake of my life.
Chapter Fifteen
Paxtyn
I have the cold from hell. My nose is red and running, my eyes leak, and my throat feels like someone coated it in sandpaper. The coarse type, too.
Plus my head hurts and I’ve running a low grade fever for the past couple of days. Corey said that, in his professional opinion, I should skip college and stay in bed. So I did, because Corey knows how to wield a thermometer, a skill I lack, and besides, I feel like road kill.
Dressed in a fluffy house robe and bunny slippers, my hair a messy bun on top of my head, I get up from my spot on the sofa. God, if Riot saw me like this I’d die of embarrassment. Not that I’m in any shape for sex right now—even if the thought of getting naked with him again raises my temperature another degree.
Not today, Pax.
In fact, maybe it’s a good time to stop obsessing about the sexy, handsome escort and focus on someone else. Someone who might want me, and not get paid for it by the hour.
But it won’t be Riot.
My heart hurts at the thought of not seeing him again, of being with someone else.
Or maybe it’s the cold. That’s what it is, I tell myself as I shuffle into the kitchen for my hourly cup of black tea with honey, my nose stuffed with Kleenex to avoid leakage. It’s not that I miss Riot. That I have any feelings for him.
No. No way.
Need to eat something, and drink something warm. I take down the honey from the cupboard, set the mug on the table and grab the kettle—when the doorbell rings.
I freeze. Who can that be? It’s already dark outside. Even the snow has stopped falling. There’s a silence to the world.
Until the doorbell rings again, snapping me out of my daze. It has to be Corey. He’s been checking on me every day, and although he came by this morning, maybe he wants to see if my fever has broken—or to borrow my Friends DVD box set. It’s a toss-up between the two.
Putting down the kettle, I shuffle to the door, pulling out the Kleenex from my nose at the last moment before I open.
“Corey, if you came for the Friends box set, you’re—”
“Hi, Pax.”
I stare. Can’t stop staring.
It’s Riot. At my door. Hands in his jacket pockets, cheeks ruddy from the cold, his gray eyes sparkling like gems.
Maybe my fever has gone up. Hallucinations? I blink, and he’s still there, head cocked to the side, giving me an assessing look.
