Jamie McCade wasn’t anything good or right or safe. I was sure of it. He didn’t respect relationships, meaning he was the worst kind of man to build hopes and dreams on because he would look at those hopes and dreams and laugh at you for building them. So I wouldn’t be that girl. I wouldn’t want him.
Only … I totally wanted him.
A little, if I was lying. A lot, if I was being honest.
So okay, I would try not to want him. I could fight it. I was getting good at fighting it. These feelings I had would go away. The echo of tonight would go quiet, and I’d forget how his body felt beneath me.
Another hour and I wouldn’t feel anything. Another two and I’d forget tonight ever happened. The idea seemed promising enough. I was hopeful.
And my house was quiet. Quiet enough to hear the slightest noise coming from outside as I sat knees bent and legs tucked underneath me on the couch with my notepad resting on my thigh and my pen in my hand. I was darkening the “m” on my doodle with a heavy outline when a car door shut, too close to be a neighbor’s or someone parking along the street.
My hand stilled. My eyes lifted, head following a second later. I stared at my bay window.
A knock sounded at the door. My stomach fluttered and warmed all over.
Jamie.
I stood and dropped the notepad and pen on the couch, and my mind, that was left there, too, along with any sense I had in me, then I tucked overgrown bangs behind my ears as I crossed the room with quick, anxious steps.
“Jamie,” I whispered, hand reaching for the knob.
He was here. And I was going to let him in. I wasn’t fighting. I wasn’t thinking.
Clearly …
There was no other explanation for what I was about to do.
Pulse racing, I opened the door and my mouth to greet him, but my “hey” got stuck in my throat and swelled until I choked on it.
I coughed, hand to my chest and eyes wide and watering. The man who took my heart and squeezed the life out of it smiled and braced his forearm on the door frame, angling closer. His deep brown lying eyes did a slow, meaningful appraisal.
“Goddamn, sugar, I’ve missed you,” Wes said, his voice carrying that thick Southern drawl I used to find sweet and endearing as he looked me over.
He was still in his work clothes, meaning he most likely hadn’t gone home yet to his beautiful wife and adorable-looking daughter, who I was now very much aware of thanks to our shocking introduction at the mall a couple of months back.
I had been shaking, on the verge of tears or my first panic attack as my boyfriend smiled at his wife and introduced me as an old friend from school. She tried to take my hand, but I couldn’t offer it.
I wanted to die. He had made me the other woman.
I hadn’t seen or talked to Wes since and I had zero plans on doing either one ever again. I hated him. He made me sick.
He broke my heart.
“What are you doing here?” I half questioned, half cried in his face as I stepped closer so he wouldn’t enter. “Get off of my property,” I hissed. “You aren’t welcome here, Wes.”
“Calm down, Tor. I get why you’re upset. I do,” he replied, sounding sincere as he straightened. He rubbed at the back of his neck. “I really didn’t want it to go down like that. Honest. That sucked for me.”
“Excuse me?” I snapped. “It sucked for you?”
What a dick!
“Yeah, so I get why you’re pissed right now,” he returned.
“You get nothing.”
Wes stepped closer, trying to move inside, and when I didn’t step back or away to give him room, he sighed and cocked his head. “You have no idea what I’ve been dealing with. Kim was suspicious before. Then meeting you like that? Come on. Why do you think I’ve been staying away? She’s been all over my shit.”
“You have a wife, Wes. She should be all over your shit. It’s hers!”
“Don’t be like that,” he said, looking almost apologetic. “I’ve missed you, sugar. It’s been hell. You know how bad I’ve been wanting to come over here or call? She was even checking my phone. I couldn’t do shit.”
“Don’t call me sugar or anything else you might call your wife,” I snapped, sliding my hand up the side of the door and readying to slam it. “I never would’ve gotten involved with you if I had known you were married. I cannot believe you kept that from me.”
“Fucked you on our second date. If I told you I was married after that, knowing how good that was, would it have mattered?” he questioned.
I flinched, unprepared for that accusation.
“Of course it would’ve mattered,” I shot back. “You’re married. I never would’ve let it happen again. I would’ve ended it.”
“After the sex we had? The way I worked you? Come on.” He tilted his head and breathed a laugh as his arms crossed over his chest. “I took your ass and had you coming so hard you nearly passed out. You told me you’d never been fucked like that before. Is that still true?” His eyebrows lifted.
I pinched my lips together and felt my face burn hot.
“It is, ain’t it?” he asked, smiling darkly. “Probably had plenty of opportunity since I’ve been away but you didn’t take it. Why?”
“Get off of my property,” I snarled, tipping forward.
“You didn’t take it ’cause you’re wanting it from me,” he said, ignoring my command. “No one else. It doesn’t matter I’m married or not, you want it.”
“Leave, Wes.” My voice shook. I felt my lip tremble. “I mean it. You need to leave.”
Wes moved closer, stepping up so he was filling the doorway and our bodies were grazing each other’s. “You want to fuck,” he growled, looking down at me. “That’s what you really want, and you’re in luck, sugar, ’cause that’s exactly what I’m here to do.”
I felt his hand on my hip, squeezing the same spot Jamie had been gripping, and something snapped inside me, breaking me open and bleeding me out.
“LEAVE!” I screamed with tears wetting my cheeks, fists flying and connecting with his chest as I pounded on it and pushed, putting all of my weight behind me. “I hate you, you fucking asshole! Get out! Get out! GET OUT!”
“Jesus. What the fuck?” Wes jerked back onto the porch. “Tori—”
I slammed the door shut and locked it, yelling, “GO! Don’t ever come back here! I don’t ever wanna see you again, you sick fuck!”
“Don’t be like this,” he pleaded, twisting the knob. “Come on, Tor. Seriously.”
“GET OUT OF HERE!”
“Hey. There a problem?”
I heard a man’s voice. It sounded like Tom, my neighbor from next door. He liked to sit on his porch at night and smoke cigars. The smell always bothered his wife.
“No, man. No problem here,” Wes answered, his voice growing softer as if he were stepping away.
“Lotta yelling going on. You sure?”
“Yeah. All good.”
I dropped the side of my head against the door and held my stomach. My throat was burning and my chest was quaking with the breaths I couldn’t seem to hold on to.
A car started, then a door closed. Wes pulled away from my house. I heard the unmistakable sound of his engine revving as he made his way down the street.
Only … I totally wanted him.
A little, if I was lying. A lot, if I was being honest.
So okay, I would try not to want him. I could fight it. I was getting good at fighting it. These feelings I had would go away. The echo of tonight would go quiet, and I’d forget how his body felt beneath me.
Another hour and I wouldn’t feel anything. Another two and I’d forget tonight ever happened. The idea seemed promising enough. I was hopeful.
And my house was quiet. Quiet enough to hear the slightest noise coming from outside as I sat knees bent and legs tucked underneath me on the couch with my notepad resting on my thigh and my pen in my hand. I was darkening the “m” on my doodle with a heavy outline when a car door shut, too close to be a neighbor’s or someone parking along the street.
My hand stilled. My eyes lifted, head following a second later. I stared at my bay window.
A knock sounded at the door. My stomach fluttered and warmed all over.
Jamie.
I stood and dropped the notepad and pen on the couch, and my mind, that was left there, too, along with any sense I had in me, then I tucked overgrown bangs behind my ears as I crossed the room with quick, anxious steps.
“Jamie,” I whispered, hand reaching for the knob.
He was here. And I was going to let him in. I wasn’t fighting. I wasn’t thinking.
Clearly …
There was no other explanation for what I was about to do.
Pulse racing, I opened the door and my mouth to greet him, but my “hey” got stuck in my throat and swelled until I choked on it.
I coughed, hand to my chest and eyes wide and watering. The man who took my heart and squeezed the life out of it smiled and braced his forearm on the door frame, angling closer. His deep brown lying eyes did a slow, meaningful appraisal.
“Goddamn, sugar, I’ve missed you,” Wes said, his voice carrying that thick Southern drawl I used to find sweet and endearing as he looked me over.
He was still in his work clothes, meaning he most likely hadn’t gone home yet to his beautiful wife and adorable-looking daughter, who I was now very much aware of thanks to our shocking introduction at the mall a couple of months back.
I had been shaking, on the verge of tears or my first panic attack as my boyfriend smiled at his wife and introduced me as an old friend from school. She tried to take my hand, but I couldn’t offer it.
I wanted to die. He had made me the other woman.
I hadn’t seen or talked to Wes since and I had zero plans on doing either one ever again. I hated him. He made me sick.
He broke my heart.
“What are you doing here?” I half questioned, half cried in his face as I stepped closer so he wouldn’t enter. “Get off of my property,” I hissed. “You aren’t welcome here, Wes.”
“Calm down, Tor. I get why you’re upset. I do,” he replied, sounding sincere as he straightened. He rubbed at the back of his neck. “I really didn’t want it to go down like that. Honest. That sucked for me.”
“Excuse me?” I snapped. “It sucked for you?”
What a dick!
“Yeah, so I get why you’re pissed right now,” he returned.
“You get nothing.”
Wes stepped closer, trying to move inside, and when I didn’t step back or away to give him room, he sighed and cocked his head. “You have no idea what I’ve been dealing with. Kim was suspicious before. Then meeting you like that? Come on. Why do you think I’ve been staying away? She’s been all over my shit.”
“You have a wife, Wes. She should be all over your shit. It’s hers!”
“Don’t be like that,” he said, looking almost apologetic. “I’ve missed you, sugar. It’s been hell. You know how bad I’ve been wanting to come over here or call? She was even checking my phone. I couldn’t do shit.”
“Don’t call me sugar or anything else you might call your wife,” I snapped, sliding my hand up the side of the door and readying to slam it. “I never would’ve gotten involved with you if I had known you were married. I cannot believe you kept that from me.”
“Fucked you on our second date. If I told you I was married after that, knowing how good that was, would it have mattered?” he questioned.
I flinched, unprepared for that accusation.
“Of course it would’ve mattered,” I shot back. “You’re married. I never would’ve let it happen again. I would’ve ended it.”
“After the sex we had? The way I worked you? Come on.” He tilted his head and breathed a laugh as his arms crossed over his chest. “I took your ass and had you coming so hard you nearly passed out. You told me you’d never been fucked like that before. Is that still true?” His eyebrows lifted.
I pinched my lips together and felt my face burn hot.
“It is, ain’t it?” he asked, smiling darkly. “Probably had plenty of opportunity since I’ve been away but you didn’t take it. Why?”
“Get off of my property,” I snarled, tipping forward.
“You didn’t take it ’cause you’re wanting it from me,” he said, ignoring my command. “No one else. It doesn’t matter I’m married or not, you want it.”
“Leave, Wes.” My voice shook. I felt my lip tremble. “I mean it. You need to leave.”
Wes moved closer, stepping up so he was filling the doorway and our bodies were grazing each other’s. “You want to fuck,” he growled, looking down at me. “That’s what you really want, and you’re in luck, sugar, ’cause that’s exactly what I’m here to do.”
I felt his hand on my hip, squeezing the same spot Jamie had been gripping, and something snapped inside me, breaking me open and bleeding me out.
“LEAVE!” I screamed with tears wetting my cheeks, fists flying and connecting with his chest as I pounded on it and pushed, putting all of my weight behind me. “I hate you, you fucking asshole! Get out! Get out! GET OUT!”
“Jesus. What the fuck?” Wes jerked back onto the porch. “Tori—”
I slammed the door shut and locked it, yelling, “GO! Don’t ever come back here! I don’t ever wanna see you again, you sick fuck!”
“Don’t be like this,” he pleaded, twisting the knob. “Come on, Tor. Seriously.”
“GET OUT OF HERE!”
“Hey. There a problem?”
I heard a man’s voice. It sounded like Tom, my neighbor from next door. He liked to sit on his porch at night and smoke cigars. The smell always bothered his wife.
“No, man. No problem here,” Wes answered, his voice growing softer as if he were stepping away.
“Lotta yelling going on. You sure?”
“Yeah. All good.”
I dropped the side of my head against the door and held my stomach. My throat was burning and my chest was quaking with the breaths I couldn’t seem to hold on to.
A car started, then a door closed. Wes pulled away from my house. I heard the unmistakable sound of his engine revving as he made his way down the street.
